Victim Of Love

It's November 17, 1991 - a Sunday here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.

Junko, my secret-girlfriend and ex-stalker came over last night for some fun. Since she no longer seemed crazily obsessed with me, and I am ready to move on past Ashley, my ex-girlfriend with whom I still sleep with occasionally (just not for the last month and a half), I asked Junko if she wanted to be my real one and only girlfriend.

I received a polite 'maybe', which is Japanese for 'no'. Non-plused, I accepted that and was quite content to continue having sex with a sexy young Japanese woman on the weekends and screw the brains out of any other woman I please.

A pity I am not currently pleasing any other woman, but Junko seems to know that and takes care of me accordingly. I do things with her that none of the other women I have slept with in the past 15 months would even contemplate.

Maybe. Who knows, right? People are all freaks and no one wants others to know that, and so things get left unsaid and undone. Junko... she has no such problem, and while half of what we do is stuff I never thought about doing, it doesn't bother me to do it. I do it because Junko wants me to do it, and that's enough. No one is getting hurt, and it's just sex between two consenting adults.

And yet... Junko has a boyfriend... some young, dumb schmuck of a Japanese university student at Utsunomiya University where she goes to school. Junko, in her perfect English calls him her little boy.

I don't ask, but I assume their relationship is not as fascinating as the one I have with Junko. If it was, I wouldn't be needed by my secret girlfriend.

And yet... this 'little boy'.... he makes me jealous. She'll probably marry him because that's what she is supposed to do in this Japanese society. Find a nice young man with a good job, get married, quit your job and look after the home.

I would start drinking if that was my life. I suppose Junko realizes that her life might come to that, and so she is simply sowing her wild oats before the end of her life. Nothing wrong with that!

But I think I have become her secret addiction. There's a pun there, but won't beat it to death.

Actually, I am her outlet... but truthfully, she has become my secret addiction. Over the past couple of weeks I have looked forward to seeing her and have wanted to see her more often. Junko had that effect on me. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was willing to have sex with me and currently no one else is. The real reason doesn't matter, of course. I just know I am jealous of some dumbass Japanese guy I have never met because she and he are a known commodity, and I am hidden away.

Stop whining right? At least she wants to be with me for several hours a night. Sex is intimate, isn't it? It's something all right.

I've always been a happy-go-lucky individual. I might be down for a minute, but I usually bounce back up and bounce higher. But lately the downs have lasted longer, and the bounces not quite so high.

But, there is that glass-half full mentality... at least I'm still bouncing.

I get up at 7:45AM when an election truck blares by extolling the virtues of a particular candidate. The message starts with an extremely loud apology for disturbing me, notes that such-and-such-san is running for city Councillor, please vote and then another apology for disturbing me.

I look over to my left... Junko is not there. Her clothes are not on the tatami mat floor but the neckties I had used to tie her up last night are lying on the edge of my queen-sized bed.

I get up at 11AM when Matthew phones. He knows nothing about Junko, and I admit that I am ashamed I hadn't told him earlier - and even more ashamed when I don't tell him now... especially after the rejection. I envy Matthew and his beautiful girlfriend Takako Kurita.

Hey! Did I hear the name Kurita blare by this morning?!

I really get up at 1:30PM. I sit around the apartment, watch three television shows on video tape from home while doing a load of laundry.  

Despite the excitement of last night and the need to place an ice bag on my bag, I am bored. Or depressed.

Mister Akazawa of Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko (Kaneda North Junior High School) calls me and asks if I wouldn't mind coming to the school between Tuesday and Friday instead of my regular Monday through Thursday visit.  One day a week is spent at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) office.

No problem I tell him.

Mr. Hanazaki, one of my two bosses at the OBOE calls to inquire about my scratched cornea. I tell him about the change of plan for the week. He tells me to stick to my original work plan and to go to school tomorrow.

Okay. Whatever.

I don't really seem to be in control of my life, but then again, I still have my Junko, sort of have Ashley, could have Karen, should be having Kristine, could play it better with Shoko... and then there are the Japanese women I meet at bars here in Ohtawara - for whom little cajoling is required by them of me to sleep with them.

Yeah... as long as I don't lose that, Japan will remain for me a wonderful rife.

Yeah... but...

Somewhere I'm still jealous, 
Andrew Joseph
Image above is from Cerebus The Aardvark written and drawn by Dave Sim of Kitchener, Ont. (and additional art by Gerhard). This was my favorite comic book from issues #1 to #300. Dave is one of the main reasons I like writing. I've met him twice - and he's been a gentleman and I would so love to have him draw a story I write.  
Today's blog was inspired by me listening to The Eagles earlier this morning. Here's the video: 

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