Real Talk . . . Love in Japan

One of the main questions that I get from friends and family at home is . . .

"So do you have a Japanese boyfriend yet?"

My answer is always, "I can barely get a date in my own language." (Which of course, is not true at all . . . but I try to stay humble, you know? ;-) Regardless, finding a man is the furthest thing from my mind right now. I'm just trying to get through the day without beating up a child or running over little old ladies on my bicycle. (Ever see the TV show, "Locked Up Abroad"? That's my daily motivation to stay legit.)

Don't get me wrong, I am flesh and blood, I do have eyes and I am attracted to the opposite sex. In other words, a sistah be lookin sometimes. Occasionally a tall, handsome father will come to my job and drop off his child or a good looking business man will be walking down the street, but when this happens I am caught off guard and find myself sneaking glimpses here and there. I guess it's because I'm surprised and delighted. Regardless, I'm not looking for love (aaand I'm terribly shy) so I keep the "blinders" on and try to avoid all eye-contact.

I've been told by the ladies out here that Japanese men are not interested in any woman who is not Japanese. "Be prepared for a year of never getting hit on," one of the girls told me. I smiled and pretended to sympathize, but on the inside I was thinking "Speak for yourself sister . . . I will not only get hit on, I will get approached!" Sure enough, my speculations were correct. It took 3 months, a few flirty Konnichiwas and someone following me around in Tokyo, but I was finally approached "for real" when I least expected it . . . while I was getting my bike at the train station one day.

I had just come back from my Fuji/Tokyo Obon vacation. I was exhausted from traveling all day while lugging around a bunch of bags (as well as climbing up a whole mountain), and all I wanted was to get home and get out of my sweaty, smelly clothes. My face was super greasy and all of the bags that I carried were digging a hole into my shoulders. The sun beat down on my brow and I carried a permanent scowl on my face as each step on the hot concrete sent shocks through my flip flops and up to my pounding brain. Needless to say, I looked like . . . (fill in the blank - and be creative!).

I went to the bike parking garage. Up and down the aisles I walked, looking for my bike. I turned around and saw a guy (not bad looking) about my height, big Japanese hair, not skinny, not fat . . . looking for his bike as well. He was walking in my direction and then stopped suddenly.

"Hello!" he said, pleasantly.

"Hello!"

Him - English teacher?

Me - (laughing) Yes!

Him - (laughs) Okay. (pause) Give me your number!

Me - (laughing dies down) Huh-what?

Him - Give me your number?

Me - No (stops and tries to make sense of it all)

He asked if I was an English teacher, and then asked for my number.

Me - Oooh! I see! Do you want to learn English?

Him - Ehhto (long pause . . . thinking, thinking) . . . yes!

Me - (relieved smile) I can give you the number of my company.

Him - (laughs) no, that's okay.

Me - I can't teach you English outside of my company.

Him - You teach me English at you house?

Me - Um, no.

Him - Where do you live?

Me - Down the street, across from the McDonald's.

because apparently, in Japan I feel comfortable telling strangers where I live . . . Sorry Mom!

Him - Okay!

Me - How about, I take your number and call you later so you can find out about taking classes?

Him - Okay! 0-9-0-5-5-5-5-5 My name, Masako. (pause) call me.

Me - Yes, I'll call you.

Him - Now.

Now I know that trick from a mile away.

Me - (laughing) No! I'm not going to call you now.

Him - Do you have a boyfriend?

Me - Yes.

Him - (sad face) Oooh, okay.

Me - (smiling, "sorry for ya" face) Okay, Masako. Sorry!

Him - Sayanora!

Me - Sayanora!

And with that he walks out of the bike parking garage, which leads me to believe that this man was not looking for a bike at all. I saw Masako one more time at the 7-11 down the street from my job. He was very friendly and waved really hard to get my attention, (because my blinders were on.) "Heeyyyy!!!" I heard. "It's me, Masako!"

"Oh, hello Masako!" I said and smiled. I haven't seen the guy since, although sometimes I think about calling him just to see how the date would go and also, it would make for some good writing material. (But I would never waste someone's time like that, and I wouldn't want to waste my own time either.)

I write all of this to #1 - tell you a funny story and #2 - shut down any myths that people may have about Asian men and Black women. I understand that we are the two largest demographics that do not date/marry outside of our races, but that doesn't mean that we aren't attracted. Human beings were just not built that way.

I've heard some of the ladies out here sigh and say "nobody wants us foreign girls" and I even heard someone say about one of the other Black girls here (concerning the odds of landing a relationship), "she doesn't stand a chance!" My mind was blown when I heard this. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to ask, "Why doesn't she stand a chance?"

Sidenote: The "foreign" people out here can be a little strange. They say a lot of things based out of insecurity and fear.

Any woman that believes that a man is not going to look at a (human) female because of their country of origin or their race, is sadly mistaken and confused about the nature of men. Some of these men have never seen a foreigner before in their life, but I assure you, this means absolutely nothing when it comes to attraction.

I know a few (cool) girls out here who have dated and been pursued by "the natives" and the stories are pretty interesting. Maybe I'll have them do a guest post one of these days (hint, hint J and K - if you're reading).

Ah . . . I can talk all day about this, but I have to go to bed. I will conclude this by saying don't limit yourself. Don't limit others. This world is huge, but people are all the same.

Goodnight!