Strange Ways

One of the best things about being a man in Japan - especially a foreign man - is that there are a lot of beautiful women who want to talk to you - get to know you - and perhaps find out if you are worth hiding from their family while you enjoy a relationship.

Girlfriends. Lovers. Romper Room partners. Consorts. Afternoon Delight. Whatever the heck you want to call them - the women in Japan were great. Now... this blog isn't an ode to Andrew's sexual prowess - though perhaps one day I'll write about that... no, perhaps a three-part series in hardback, of course... no, rather this blog is about a lost opportunity.

Within three days of arriving in Japan, I had a girlfriend. An American girlfriend named Ashley Benning, whom I adored while she was there. Unfortunately, it was only partially reciprocal, as I'm sure I was a jealous ass every now and again. I was insecure, as she was only my second ever girlfriend, and I was 25.

Almost within the first month of setting down my luggage in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, I began teaching night school English language classes on the side.

And that's where I met her. Her name was Shoko. She was tall - close to 5'-8", slender, brown eyes, black slightly wavy hair. She like to wear hats, was stylishly dressed - and had a nice tan-coloured skin that seemed to me to be flawless.

When I saw her, my heart skipped a beat - but I quickly put her out of my mind because she was too beautiful for me. There was also that language thing... she was in my beginner's English conversation class, and I was certainly a beginner in knowing anything about Japan, let alone the language.

Oh yeah... I also had the proverbial albatross around me neck. My girlfriend, Ashley.

It was the beginning of October 1990, and Ashley and I had only had one argument by this time though that would change with alarming frequency come late October.

And yet... there was Shoko. It turns out this cutie -patootioe could actually speak more English than she let on - and probably should have been in Matthew's more advanced English conversation group. But she continued to smile, glance up at me when I wasn't staring at her, and put up with my lousy teaching techniques.

I was free to be the dog I had always pictured myself to be, as Ashley was not part of our extra-curricular teaching activities - having been asked, but preferring instead to stay-it at home and get some sleep.

While I admire Ashley's desire for sleep, I had arrived in this country with one purpose in mind. Well, actually with several purposes in mind. Along with getting laid (mission accomplished), I wanted to learn as much about Japan as possible by talking to the so-called common folks.

Oh gentle reader, it's true that I can teach you a load of stuff about Japan - but like any real student that seeks to surpass the master (me), you need to go there yourself and experience it first-hand.

Anyhow... week after week, Shoko and I would play our ever flirtatious eye-contact game with each other. I couldn't even talk to her after class, as she would quickly run out, eyes cast down, books hugged tight to her small bosom.

But then, one day Suzuki-san (mister Suzuki)... no, not that Suzuki-san, the other one... the one who is a farmer in Ohtawara (Suzuki is a terribly common name in Japan) ... he threw a party for all the local gaijin (foreigner) in the city (about seven of us), plus all of the members of the Ohtawara International Friendship Association - at his farm.

I, of course, had to accompany Ashley to the event. Fortunately, she was mad at me for something she says I said or did, or didn't say or didn't do - who knows? She never really said what it was or wasn't that I did or didn't do... so she left the party early - probably to take a nap.

Just as well... I had been force fed a steady diet of alcohol and alcohol-related products there, as everyone wanted to see the stupid foreigner (including Matthew and myself) get hammered. Who were we to deny them their fun?

Little did I realize, that sipping on a beer, Shoko had been watching my interactions with Ashley. With Ashley gone, Shoko came over to me and began pouring beer into my half-filled cup - because, in Japan, that is what polite people do for others.

She stopped suddenly as she realized I wasn't drinking beer at the moment. Bowed many times in quick succession and ran away holding her face in her hands.

I didn't know what to do. But my heart and groin did. I put down my mixed drink, and slowly walked over to where she had gone to hide.

I gently called her name: "Shoko." She stiffened (and I have to admit, I did, too). She still held her face in her hands, and wouldn't look up at me. But, quite audibly - in English - I heard her mutter: "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

At first I did a Japanese-thing, as I couldn't figure out what Japanese word she was saying over and over again... but... I realized she was speaking English?

I smiled, took another step closer to her and before she could yelp, or move away or pour more beer in my non-existent drinking vessel, I hugged her, resting my chin on a spot just above her right ear.

And then I kissed that spot.

Through braided fingers, she looked up at me and smiled - reached up a couple of inches and kissed me on the lips. Just a brief touch.

And then... nothing.

That kiss was just long enough to know that despite our physical attraction to one another, we didn't feel that spark.

We both awkwardly moved away from each other. Smiled and turned in the opposite direction.

She didn't show up for my English class again.

Somewhere guessing this is what it feels like to kiss your sister,
Andrew (no-sister) Joseph
Today's blog title is by KISS. You can listen to this song here: ACE.
As well, here's a Megadeath version of the same song that sounds HEAVIER:
PS: A sister kisser is best described as a hard fought tie... no one loses, but more importantly, no one wins.