A Million Vacations

It's Sunday, December 22, 1991, and unlike today in 2012, I am in a good mood. Too much went according to plan - and it wasn't my plan.

I've been in good moods and bad moods while living in Japan.

The only thing that puts me in a bad mood are women. Actually, I don't know if that is correct. It's not a bad mood... it's  a sad mood.

I've just left behind Ashley, who has gone home for the holidays - and she managed to piss me off while doing so.

And while I do get angry, I find that I actually am sad that things aren't working out, and pray to whatever gods there are out there who might be listening to please don't let my life be this way. (2012 Andrew: It is).

But, in 1991, despite women problems, I am ever the optimist, knowing that that glass is half-full. Screw 2012 Andrew and his reversal of fortune. With any luck, I'll be dead by the time it hits 2012.

The 1991 Andrew may be optimistic, but he's also a dick.

I'm a junior high school assistant English teacher (AET) on the Japan Exchange & Teaching (JET) Programme. I arrived in Japan in late July of 1990, and have now been living here in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan for about 17 months now.   

I'm heading to Singapore with my good friend and fellow AET James Jimmy Jive Dalton. I actually call him James.

James is perhaps the funniest, nuttiest person I have ever met. He always has a smile on his face. He's always helpful and kind towards others. He wants to be liked and does his best to ensure that it is happening. He is considerate of other people's feelings. He's a taller, more slender and whiter version of me.
It's how I know he is covering up for a bunch of insecurities a mile deep.

Why would I say something as stupid as that?

Simple. Despite his bravado, physical comedic genius, charm and wit, and decent looks... he's actually quite shy.

He's like I used to be. He obviously likes women... but he's afraid of rejection...
And... because misery loves company... when I am around James... I become a darker version of him. (Darker, not like a Darth Vader-thing. I mean because I have brown skin).

So... the two ass clowns of Tochigi-ken's JET participants are going to Singapore. We already know that we will have a good time, but we won't do anything crazy. Unless, like in Thailand, I find two women that want to screw each other as much as they want to screw me. Since it happened before, it could happen again, right?

Play the video below and read on while it plays in the background!

James and I leave his home-town of Mamada, taking the slow train down to Ueno-eki (Ueno station) in Tokyo and then hop a train to Narita Airport in Chiba-ken (Chiba Prefecture).

We meet mutual AET buddy Tim down there - and we all chat a bit before parting.

Our flight is at 6PM. As we go to sign in, about 10-minutes before take-off, I do not have a seat.

Apparently I got bumped.

But a few moments later, myself and somewhat hefty lady and I bitched and bitched and bitched to the airline... and it worked.

You have to try, eh. You never know what will happen if you don't at least try.  

As it turns out, the two squeaky wheels sat beside each other on the airplane. She was very nice. Her name was pat and she was a writer. Figures. I guess all of us writers have a big mouth and attitudes to match.

She and her friend Karen were going the same route as James and I... but I'm sure they had their own agenda, and I am not one to force myself upon them, unless they really would like us to accompany them - besides... James is asleep and I'm not making a decision without talking to my traveling buddy.

Pat wrote freelance for some vacation magazines. That's so cool. I wish I could do that, but I doubt I have a style any magazine would ever want. She and Karen seem to have traveled everywhere.

The flight is somewhat enjoyable, and I don't suffer any inner ear pain as I did when I first arrived in Japan from Canada or when I traveled from Thailand with my mom back to Japan.

As boring as this all seems to be... I'm going to leave off right here. I'll finish the rest of this tomorrow.

How interesting this is to 2012 Andrew. Here he was presented the concept of being a travel writer back in 1991, and he thought he wasn't good enough to do it. In 2012, not only am a magazine writer in my day job, but I've written comic books, television scripts (someone buy them!) for shows my friend Deb and I have fleshed out, and I've even written a play (wordless) that was performed in Japan, and write this blog, a second one detailing things that I hate, and even a third one that is a survival guide for men (which I'm sure you can see down to the right under "blogs I follow"). And yet... I was either too afraid to try and be a writer, or simply lacked self-confidence in myself.

All pretty strange considering I seem so full of myself when it comes to getting laid. You have to remember... less than 17 months ago, I was a virgin living at home in the basement of my parent's house watching re-runs of Star Trek. I may have some confidence, but confidence can be a fragile thing... easy enough to lose when one feels rejected... which is what I feel right now.

Ashley, Junko... and many more... do I push people away?

And that's probably why James and I are friends. Two ass clowns that enjoy making people laugh and feel good, but have a difficult time actually feeling it themselves.

Screw that. Maybe James and I will have some decent adventures on this trip. You know we will. This is me, afterall.

I'm a weirdness magnet.

At least, even when things screw up or don't go my way, it's never a dull adventure.

Somewhere full of angst,
Andrew Joseph         
In the telephone card up above, that's James Dalton on the left, mutual buddy Colin McKay in the middle, and yours truly Andrew Joseph. James is from Stoney Creek, Ont., Colin from Calgary, Alberta, and I'm from Toronto. Apparently we are pointing to each other as in: I'm with stupid. I'm outnumbered 2-1. Dammit. As well, apparently in the photo, I am growing my hair - it's in a ponytail - but it's still not quite long enough in the front. Aw... those awkward teenaged years when you are 27.
Today's blog title is by iconic Canadian rocker Kim Mitchell. He still rocks on, but also does a day gig as the afternoon DJ on Q107 radio station.  

Painted Ladies

I spent the rest of yesterday in das funk.

I had just kicked out the second woman I had ever loved - Junko - because she is, quite frankly, a bit of a psychopath. The problem for me is that she was also one of the hottest women I had ever seen - whether in a magazine or in real life, so letting go was very difficult.

Today... today is another day. It's Friday, December 20, 1991 and it's Ashley's 23rd birthday.

I'm 27 years-old myself, and Ashley was the first woman I ever loved.

I live in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan, and I'm a junior high school assistant English teacher (AET) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.

Ashley is a high school AET here in town, mostly at the boy's school. She lives in Nishinasuno-machi, a town about a 20 minute bike ride to the northwest.

Junko... she's originally from Utsunomiya, but I met her at Ohtawara Junior High School when she came up for a week to learn teaching methods. I'm unsure what teaching methods she learned, but after meeting her, I learned that for one week, neither of us needed sleep... just lots and lots of orange juice to replenish ourselves.

Man can not live on sex alone. He needs juice!

Ashley and I had broken up months earlier, though we were still sleeping with each other on occasion... mostly when ever she felt like it. Since I was never sure when that was, I would make a play for her every time I saw her. Hey! I make no excuses. I was a young and horny man (now I'm not as young), who lost his virginity to Ashley about 16 months earlier - about three weeks after we first arrived in Japan - she from Augusta, Georgia, and me from Toronto.

The very sexy Japanese woman named Junko, well... after our one-week fling, she decided that she really enjoyed the wild sex life I offered her, and began to stalk me rather than go back to University. She would hide out at my schools' parking lot wherever I was teaching, and - hell... she probably slept. Me? I sleepwalked through weeks of classes. Every night after work, and after my friends would either leave my apartment or stop telephoning, Junko would appear on my doorstep accompanied by a puff of smoke and apple blossom-scented shampoo that must have covered up the stench of sulphur and brimstone. She would knock on my door, I would let her in , and before either of us had said anything or the door had fully closed with a bang, she would move her arms outward and drop her clothes with a flourish. That was talent. I enjoyed the sex, but we never ever slept. We just screwed all night long. I was starting to go loopy from sleep deprivation and requested help from my Japanse co-workers to please stop her from screwing my brains out. She wouldn't leave me alone, and only wanted to have sex. God, that sounds so good to me right now. What the hell was wrong with 1991 Andrew? Oh yeah... the sleep deprivation. Anyhow, I begged Junko to give me a break, to go back to school, to have a few hours of sleep without screwing, but perhaps she just liked the fact that I could get it up, keep it up and had no more sperm left inside of me at all to get any one preggers. I had to have her removed from my life. And she was - taken away by strange comedic men I'm pretty sure I recognized despite their dark clothing and my astigmatism - and I watched them put her in the back seat and drive away to get some help. That's the five-yen version.

Hmm... I wonder if she bartered sex to let her go? Despite the Japanese men wanting to do a solid for me, they are Japanese men - married, so you know they are up for anything with a pair of tits...

We met a month later when I went to Utsunomiya University for some JET AET speech function.  I smelled her apple blossoms long before I saw her, and realized she had spotted me as well. That smile of her could have melted the ice caps. She now had a Japanese boyfriend, was back at school and seemed... sane? Except, after the 20 seconds of chit-chat, she was leading me to an empty classroom nearby so that we could screw our brains out. I never did hear anything about the JET speeches, because she had her tongue down my throat which apparently makes one deaf.


Days later.. Ashley came over to my apartment moments after Junko had left moments earlier in the morning. How she avoided detection I'll never know, but she was like a ninja. The only clue, a never-ceasing smell of apple blossoms and a trail of sexual destruction that also permeated the air. Ashley  guessed correctly from the taste of sex on my face that I had been sleeping with someone. Writing that sentence just now turned me on. Ashley did not seem to mind that I was moving on and screwing other women, as it probably meany she could be in my company without me pawing at her. Not likely. It's just sex. What's the big deal?

There... and that's what you missed - well... except for the part where Junko has a boyfriend, but I knew that, plus she has four pseudo-boyfriends who just buy her stuff. I just want Junko. I want her to be all mine, but she's having none of that, as she seems to know that you don't buy the cow if you're already getting the milk for free.

Moooo.

Her boyfriend is for appearances, and I'm the dirty little secret boyfriend she has that does all sorts of dirty, nasty things to her that other men have only read about in a Japanese comic book.

What pissed me off about Junko, however,  is that I took offense to her stringing along the four other guys who had no chance of being her boyfriend or screwing her. They were just being used. I thought that was wrong, wanted her to stop, was laughed at, and so I bid her adieu. I'm unsure if Junko's actions were ticking me off, or whether her laughing at me was the straw that broke the camel's back. I hate it when people make fun of me. It's a lack of respect, thing. Hunh. Twenty years later... I think I finally get it! Thank you blog!

Back to Ashley's birthday.

I cleaned my apartment up after moping around all day thinking that Junko was so freaking hot, and that I am an idiot who just should have kept his mouth shut and kept on screwing her - have my cake and eat it too... sometimes with my cake tied up.

When Ashley arrives at my place at 4PM immediately after school, I give her a hug and get ready to ride out to her place.

I have a birthday present for her, of course... and I give it to her at her apartment in Nishinasuno. She opens up her Girl's New Year's present - a music box. She loves it, and I get the first real kiss from her in weeks.

The two of us ride out to Nishinasuno-eki (train station) and hop a train to go down south to Utsunomiya where we are supposed to meet Karen, Lisa and Stephanie - all three are AETs on the JET Programme, and all are reasonably quiet, shy and nice, though Karen isn't as shy, and like me, probably puts on a good act.

Karen wants to screw me - but only if I am her boyfriend, but I just want to screw. I want to screw Stephanie, but she doesn't really like me. Lisa I think is hot, but she knows better than to get mixed up with a male slut like me, because while screwing is nice, she would probably end up screwed.

Anyhow... out with four women - three of whom don't really seem to care about me sexually - well, that's a bloody mistake. I feel like I don't belong - as usual.

I hate most of the other AETs. There's a few I like, and who like me right back, but most seem to only tolerate me or treat me with contempt because I'm not as serious as they are. Or as serious as our position in Japan seems to dictate we should be.

I think that is what galls them the most. By acting like I don't care, but at the same time showing friendship to all the Japanese, I am treated better by the Japanese that they ever will. You work hard, have fun and party hard. That's the Japanese way, and I'm all for that.

It's not just respect that I get...  I get their friendship, too. People also like my buddy Matthew, too - he gets it, and he is well liked by the natives here for being... what's the word... more Japanese. I don't know how a slender, 6'-3" strawberry blonde American can be so Japanese, but he pulls it off with aplomb. Work hard. Have fun. Party hard.

Back to the women. We go to German restaurant (I'm pretty sure the German's aren't world renowned when it comes to fine cuisine, but whatever - I like schnitzel and spetzla.. oh, and their beer!.. oh and their women!!). I assume the German restaurant was chosen because Ashley once lived in Salzburg, Austria for a year, and can speak German pretty well... in fact... she likes to softly repeat some German poem to me all the time.

You know what's scary? In 2012, my current wife hates me writing about Ashley because she believes the two of them look similar. My wife also likes to utter a German poem at me because she too once stayed in Salzburg, Austria for a while. I've never told my wife that, and since she doesn't read my blogs, she'll never know!

At the restaurant, Ashley leaves to go and phone AET David Livermore to come out and play, but he doesn't want to, which disappoints her. Ashley likes him. I'm a bit jealous of her interest in him and am actually glad he stays away. I think he asked for a head count and when he heard I was there - with my 'ex-girlfriend' - he shied away. He's pretty dull anyway, in looks and personality and Ash has probably chosen someone almost 180 degrees polar opposite of myself. Ego? You should have met this (yawn) (sorry) guy.  

I buy Ashley her dinner and drinks (not sure why, but I would do that for any woman I escorted out)... which seems to make Karen even more bitchy. Karen and Ashley like each other. But because Karen likes me, whenever I pop up in relation to Ashley, she gets all sketchy. Who could blame her? I mentioned to Ashley earlier that if I say anything mean to Karen that might upset the evening, to simply give me a look or kick me under the table.

I should have worn shin pads, because Ashley has clearly forgotten all about the look.

She and I catch the last train home to Nishinasuno...  I don't know about her, but I drank enough booze to kill a rhino. Fortunately, I'm not a rhino and seem to have a high tolerance for booze, but not bitchy women, which makes me want to drink more, which puts me over the edge.

I ride back to Ashley's. It's cold, blustery and I'm freezing. I ask Ashley if I can spend the night (because the alcohol has thinned my blood) because I am cold and so tired.

Ashley makes excuse after excuse, which does not escape me despite my level of intoxication. She finally relents with an "Oh... all right!!!" in a huffy manner.

Gee... with that type of attitude and invitation, I'd rather freeze my ass off riding home, and pretty much say just that.

As I leave, she wishes me a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

I say, "Yeah." and get on my bike and ride home.

I don't freeze because I am now madder than hell which warms my black thoughts and cockles.

Bitch.

Tomorrow will be better.

Somewhere with a limp,

Andrew Joseph    
I hate women tonight - and I never thought I would ever say that,
Today's blog title is sung by Ian Thomas, brother of the legendary Second City comedian Dave Thomas who is not related to the Dave Thomas who owns the Wendy's fast food restaurant chain. I was in the same high school as Dave Thomas' Second City alumni Catherine O'Hara, who was the mom in Home Alone and a loony in Beetlejuice and lots of other great movies. I don't hate Catherine O'Hara even though I'm sure she doesn't want to sleep with me either.

Starseed

Back to my personal diary of Thursday, December 19, 1991...The first two parts of my day are here:
Part 1
Part 2


Just let the video above play while you read...

I've been living in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan since late August of 1990, arriving here to work as a junior high school English teacher for the JET (Japan  Exchange & Teaching) Programme.

The teaching part has been easy. I'm a journalist by trade, graduating from university with a degree in Political Science and from college in journalism.

I've coached women's soccer for about seven years, and taught piano for two... I have an ego and I don't have an ego. It just depends on the form of introspection I am performing. I'm a high IQ slacker who until arriving in Japan had never lived on his own, had a girlfriend longer than three months or slept with a woman... I was not quite 26-years-of age then.

Now, one year later, I am 27, and have have: survived living on my own, learned how to cook a few meals that were actually quite decent, communicated with the Japanese well enough so that I am not isolated, and have slept with 13 women.

Lucky number 13.

I can't complain - at least not really. I had gone, in one fell swoop on a long airplane flight, from dud to stud... and I can't understand why - not that I am trying to figure that out.

Maybe I'm just more confident, and have been exuding that confidence since arriving here... you know... everyone is shy and nervous, but when someone has the appearance of being out-going, people tend to gravitate toward them.

That explains my first girlfriend Ashley, but doesn't explain why or how I've slept with a lot of beautiful Japanese women.

Want to know how? I just kind of just sit around and wait for them to approach me. After we say hello (me in Japanese, they in English), we might have a drink, or if we are not in a bar, perform small talk. I tell them they are pretty, they get all gooey,  and off to my apartment we rumble. Rocket-science it ain't.

I'm not bad-looking. I'm tall, in shape, have a decent personality and a great sense of humor - plus, should it matter, I'm goofy but intelligent. To the Japanese, I am not quite the standard, garden variety gaijin (Ho-ho-ho!), as I am of Indian extraction (dot not the feather), but have all the mannerism and idiosyncrasies of a Canadian - though I don't say 'eh' a lot and never say 'oot and aboot' (for out and about) because I don't know anyone who has ever been out and about. And, just because I wrote it, it doesn't mean that you heard it as 'oot and aboot'. 

But this recent fling-thing with Junko has me both confused and proud of myself.

Yes, I'm confused because of what she is doing to herself, but I am proud that I was able to screw the brains out of a woman who should have been a fashion model or adult-video star. And even more proud for ending it. That last bit of pride confuses me.

Hey - want to know what we did to each other? Use you imagination and think of the most hot, wet and sticky things two people can mostly legally do to each other sexually...  done? Good... well, Junko and I did that as a part of our normal sex life. And we went off the rails from there.

So, yeah... Junko was young, intelligent, experimental, gorgeous, flexible, and into me. The problem was that she also had a Japanese boyfriend - for appearances.

She occasionally slept with him, because that is what boyfriends and girlfriends might do. I didn't have a problem with Kenichi. He didn't know about me, and I was doing all sorts of sexual things to the woman he would walk hand-in-hand with down in Utsunomiya-shi where they went to university together.

Kenichi was out of Junko's league... not in the looks department... he was a good-looking guy - more handsome than me, I think... and that's why they were together, in my opinion. But still, Junko was hot.

It's better to look good than to feel good.

Kenichi and Junko looked like the Japanese version of Ken & Barbie. Again... no one really wants Ken, but everyone wants Barbie.

Me? I made Junko feel good physically (which made her feel good mentally). She and I only left my apartment once where we were be seen in public together, and that was only because she thought we were far enough away from my home base of Ohtawara where she thought she would be safe from people recognizing me, which would in turn cause people to wonder who she was, which could get back to her Ken doll.

Silly Junko. There was one fatal flaw with that line of thinking... while it is true that I am a very recognizable gaijin (foreigner)—especially in the northern sector of Tochigi-ken—Junko has the kind of looks that makes both men and women stare just that extra second longer.

I noticed (because that is what I do) that the Japanese locals would look at HER first, and then glance over at me to see who was lucky enough to be with this goddess.

But that's not the problem. I am jealous, a bit, of Kenichi, because while I don't envy him being screwed around on by his girlfriend, I do want Junko to be my girlfriend. Why am I good enough to have intercourse or whatever it is we do, but not good enough to be with all day and night? I want what he has, along with what I had.

I said 'had' - past tense. But that's not why I had to break up with Junko. She also had four more boyfriends. When the hell did she find the time? She was with me in the evenings and night (and we never slept!), at school during the day... so what's with the four other guys?

Apparently these other four men were the real suckers. They would buy Junko presents (apparently at her urging), all for the hope that she would sleep with them. Even if one would rebel, I am sure a new fish would come along and buy her what she wants.

What the hell does Junko need that for? Kenichi as the boyfriend or I, as the lover, would buy her things.

Don't get me wrong. I don't mind buying a woman presents - but only when I feel like it. It's not a quid pro quo type of thing. I don't buy a woman presents hoping to get sex or to thank her for sex... I do so because at the time - when you really like someone or are in love with them - it seems like the right thing to do.

And that's why I think there is more to Junko than meets the eye. She gave me a book months ago when she was stalking me for sex. Hell... maybe she bought it, and maybe it was given to her by one of her lazy, diamond-studded monkeys - who knows?

The point is, she gave it to me. The thing I figured out aboot (dammit!) about Junko is, even with the presents she was getting from the other men, it was presents she suggested she should receive. That means she must have suggested someone get this book for her... because she wanted to give it to me.

But you know what? That's all bull. She told me she bought me the book because she thought I would like it. I believe that because I want to believe that, and because I think it's true.

The book Junko bought me? It was a book on zen philosophy.

And that was when I fell in love with her. She bought me a book. And it wasn't a book that I wanted or even thought I wanted to read. It was a book she liked that she thought I would enjoy.  

She looked inside me and thought: I don't know if he will like this, but I want him to, because I do.

It wasn't a test... it was just a way for us to connect in a non-sexual manner, which, when you think about it, is really quite sexual.

I only just thought about it as I sat here alone in my large, three-bedroom apartment. I had just kicked her out... three hours ago... and I haven't moved - frozen in time and space.

So... I get up slowly, grab a Coke from my fridge, and then mosey over to my bookcase and pluck the book Junko gave me. I never read it before.... probably because she and I were screwing our brains out every time we saw each other, and I was sleepwalking through work during the day.

Now... with her gone... I finally have time. But, despite knowing that losing Junko is a good thing for me... I can't help but feel the loss... and so, to honor her, I begin reading the book on Zen Buddhism.

I know what you are thinking. The main focus behind the concept of zen, is that you don't think about the past or the future and instead concentrate on the present, because that's all you have. Me reading a book on zen given to me by Junko - that's screwed up! It is.

Here's what's even more screwed up. And I know it is when I make it my plan.

I only read one page, and then put it down.

I'm going to do this everyday. And when I finally finish, I hope I am over her. But... I doubt it.

On the plus side, at least I won't have to buy Junko a Christmas present.

On the down side, I already have something for her.

Somewhere feeling screwed, screwy and screwed up and missing her terribly,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Our Lady Peace - a damn fine Canadian rock and roll band. I went to Our Lady of Peace grade school in Etobicoke (now a part of Toronto). No relation.

Keep Yourself Alive

One of the things that hit me suddenly as I sat on the defensive end of my couch in my living room in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan listening to Junko make me think I was defective, was that she was full of sh!t.

Her colored lights may hypnotize, but they can sparkle someone else's eyes.

No. I'm not the one who has done anything wrong. I was a shy person maybe three years before arriving here in Japan in late July of 1990. But I did a modeling course, and did a couple of shows here in Toronto. It helped me get over my shyness.

I'm not great-looking, but I'm okay... and I could walk the walk.

Three years later, after working as a newspaper reporter for the Toronto Star (I was the first Canadian College student to ever get into their summer internship program), I got over a lot more of my shyness. It helped me learn how to talk the talk.

Here in Japan, I've learned how to put it all together: to walk the walk and to talk the talk.

Yes I have slept with 13 women in the past 16 months - this despite having a girlfriend in Ashley for eight months... and never cheated on her.

We've broken up many a time. The last time six months ago for good, and until recently we were friends-with-benefits. I always wanted more, of course... but please don't take that for pussy-whipped weakness from me.

No... I just hate to lose. I don't mind losing, because it happens - but that doesn't mean I have to like it. No. If I am going to lose, I'm going to exhaust every option to avoid it. That was me and Ashley.

And.. I'm not a poor sport either. You could ask any of the people I ever played soccer or baseball with, or the teams I coached - I never show how much I hate to lose and will always congratulate anyone for being better than me at that time... but then... I try to ensure I don't lose again.

What the heck is wrong with that?

But this is Junko. 

No. I'm not the damaged individual in this relationship. I'm not the one who stalked anyone, day and night or quit school. No... that was Junko. I had to get my school board to intervene to get her the hell away from me - to get her help - to make sure she didn't jeopardize her future by quitting school for sexual liaisons.

She seemed better when we began hooking up again a few weeks later - but now she had a boyfriend and didn't want to leave him for me, despite her always coming around to my place for Sex Ed 101. Hell - scratch that! We were performing grad-school sexual relations! I have no idea what that means.

With my thoughts racing in piqued anger, I ask her: "How many boyfriends do you have?"

I saw it in her eyes - for just that second... she did not expect me to go on the offensive just then.

"Why? You know I only have the boyfriend at school (Utsinomiya University) and you."

"Really? Just the one boyfriend for appearances - at school;  the one boyfriend for sex - me; what about the boyfriend to buy you stuff? A hot-looking babe like you... I'm sure there are plenty of men who want to buy you stuff."

I knew I had her now... because she had never seen me angry before. I've always been good ol Andrew. Happy go-lucky, Andrew. Big stupid Andrew who was happy to have any one acknowledge his existence,

She just kind of stared at me for a second before answering: "Four."

And then added for effect, "But you are the only one I have sex with!"

Well, thank goodness for that. I'm being sarcastic. Personally, I don't care if she's boinking other guys - I had assumed she was boinking her university beau... but I do want to be her one and only boyfriend now - only she doesn't want to.

"So, you have four boyfriends?"

And just when I think she can say nothing to surprise me after what we have done together sexually, "No. I have four boyfriends who like to buy me things."

Now... I'm no longer angry. In fact, I am damn curious. It's that part of my nature that drives me to know as little about everything as possible so that I could talk to anyone about anything. 

In my head I am pretending to be Ricky Ricardo talking to his wacky redheaded wife: "Lucy - You got some 'splainin' to do."

Instead, I grind out a disgusted look and vomit out: "Explain." Hey. I'm curious, but I don't want to lose whatever advantage I think I have.

She reiterates that she has her boyfriend for appearance, me for sex and then says she has boyfriends who buy her stuff - four of them!

"And you don't sleep with any of them?"

"My real boyfriend is waiting until we get married."

That 'real' crap stung a lot. Hell... I wanted to marry her when I thought she was sane.

"The four who buy me things only think they have a hope of having sex with me. They don't."

I'm unsure if my respect for her went up or down. Here's a person who knows how to use her feminine and sexual wiles to get what she wants.

Then again... she is using her feminine and sexual wiles to get what she wants.

Good for her for doing what she has to do to get ahead. But bad on her for doing it in what I consider aa dishonest way.

I should feel dirty, but I don't - probably because I'm the only one getting laid - if she is telling the truth. And... truthfully, Junko is difficult to read.

But I do know how to play people with human nature just as much as she does.

Ha. This is going to be a battle of wits against an unarmed opponent.  

Some background. When I was back in University, I majored in the psychological behavior of political science. Essentially, it's how to get what you want without people realizing they are doing it.

It's kind of like Tom Sawyer getting other kids to pay him for the joy of whitewashing his aunt's fence.

I've never used it before. It's why I was a virgin until one-month after arriving here in Japan at the age of 25-3/4 years old. That's the problem with university. Too much theory and not enough practical!

It's time to go back onto the offensive. Okay.. maybe it's time to start going on the offensive. It will hopefully throw Junko for a loop.

I may not get sex from her again, but at least I'll gain a bit of self-respect back.

So I says to her, I says (I love saying that with a dumb, tough guy voice): "Junko, I don't like how you are using people. You should leave."

Now... just so you know (or remember), Junko and I had spent a rollicking night screwing each other's brains out - as she had orgasm after orgasm. How do I know she wasn't faking it? It wasn't just the orgasm. She had the ejaculation. So... despite what else she may have been, she never faked with me.

Thank goodness. I'm unsure if I could have handled being faked with her or anyone. I have a fragile ego, I suppose, when it comes to things like this.

I repeat: "Junko... you should probably leave."

True to form, her response was wordless, as with a snap of her fingers, her clothes mysteriously drop to the carpet - including her bra and panties. How the fug does she do that?

Okay! You're getting distracted!

Man she's hot... FOCUS!

Damn, she's good. She's using her feminine and sexual wiles on me! Crap! The blood is leaving my brain.

Uh-uh. Because I know what's she's doing... I know what she's doing. I'm wise to your tricks, Moriarty.

"What are you doing, Junko? I said you should leave."

She drops to her knees and places her lips around me.

When the hell did she get my pants down?

The blood continues to flow out my head and down to my head where I am getting head, but I still have a head about me to head Junko off at the pass.

You know... I surprise myself when I write a sentence like that. I'm pretty sure that word has a different meaning for each typed utterance.

With teeth scrapping nearby, I know enough not to get her angry.

I thrust once, twice and then pull back far enough to pull out and turn around. I quickly pull up my pants, zip up and turn around to face her.

She's still on her knees - looking down at my feet. She looks up as though she can't believe anyone would ever do anything like that to her.

I don't tell her this, but I didn't do that to her. I did it for me. It makes sense in my mind.

Hell... I was sleeping with her when she was stalking me - and got help to have her stop doing both! She knows I can reject her and still want her.

I place my right hand under her chin and gently lift so she knows she has to rise. I continue to hold her there as I bend down and calmly look into her dull eyes: "You really should leave now, Junko."

To her credit, she does after getting dressed. I've never seen her work so slowly with clothing before. Even so, she doesn't say anything and neither do I.

To my credit (?) I watch her slowly getting dressed savoring every moment as though it may be our last together - because it might be.

I'm not jealous of those other guys. Not at all. I feel sort of sorry for them, because I'm the only one she is honest with.

But despite that partially satiating my ego, I'm still not HER boyfriend. I'm just the guy who screws her.

You know... 20 years later... I'm reading what I just wrote, and I'm thinking to myself - shut the fug up, Andrew!  Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free?

Oh, how completely idealistic I was! How naive! How naive? No... I just wanted to be her number one and only guy. I don't think that is weak or wrong.

And now I've kicked Junko out of my apartment - perhaps never to stink my room up with sex and apple blossoms again.

Still... this is Junko. The woman who stalked me for weeks... The woman who begged me to tie her up, gag her, do what ever I wanted to her (and I did)... where else will she find a sick and depraved sexual partner like me in Japan?

Oh yeah. Anywhere in Japan.

I feel like a whole person again, but a lot less manly. Oh god... I think when I grew a pair, I grew a pair of breasts. 

Shut-up! You did the right thing, Andrew. She'll be back. Just remember what your mentor, Doug McIntosh, wrote to you about: the 4F Club, where every heterosexual man can be a member: "Find her, feel her, fug her, forget her."

And what's that in my pants pocket? Her panties? When the hell did she put that there? Junko!!!

Somewhere the smell of sex in the room makes it extremely hard to forget,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Queen because song lyrics and band name fit so bloody perfectly:

 

Lost Together

It's Wednesday, December 15, 1991. I'm an junior high school assistant English teacher (AET) on the Japan Exchange & Teaching (JET) Programme. I live and work in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan - and I love my city and prefecture!

I'm in Gunma-ken in some city - I still have no idea where I am - and this is the second day of an AET conference to teach us better teaching techniques.

My room was lost. By that I mean they seemed to have lost the reservation my Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) office made for me. My office is nothing, if not efficient. They do not make mistakes. They have looked after me from Day One with a fervor that is inspiring. I have never lacked for anything while I have been here in Japan. So... I can only assume that the folks organizing this event are not competent.

Realizing I had no room, they put me in with a group of guys from Ibaraki-ken... but I spent the last night drunk in the room of Jeff Seamen (also from Tochigi-ken) and Susan Dixon. It was her room, but Jeff also had his reservation lost. See? Incompetence.

Anyhow... this morning Susan went and complained about having to share a room with Jeff. I guess she doesn't like Seamen. Anyhow... he then was displaced and the hotel was going to find another room for Jeff.

Jeff and I have had enough.

We decide to go home to Tochigi-ken - screw the JET meeting. If they can't look after us properly, who needs it?

Because Jeff refuses to eat Japanese food, we find a 7-11 so he can get a sandwich to eat, while I have a rice ball or two.

As Jeff pokes around in the 7-11, I step outside and eat.

And that's when I smell it. Apple blossoms.

I look around for Junko - she of the sweet-smelling hair - knowing it can't be her... but there she is. Looking awesome fully dressed from 20 feet away

I'm not sure what I smell like (desperation and sake, perhaps), but she looks up from the map she is holding and sees me and smiles.

I watch her eyes as she moves them to the side... she's with a guy... her boyfriend, I suppose. She wags her head from side to side to let me know I should not approach and then sticks her tongue out at me when she is sure only I am watching.

I can not be the only one watching.

She's gorgeous... the sexiest woman in Gunma-ken, Tochigi-ken and Tokyo... perhaps all of Japan. It's obvious to the way my head is exploding, that I am in love with her. But she... she is in love with the moment.

She once stalked me for weeks.... coming to my apartment when she knew I was alone... I would answer the door, she would immediately peel off her clothes and we would screw our brains out several times that night - stopping only to grab something to drink - and her dressing only when it was obviously time for me to go back to school to teach. I didn't sleep for weeks.
 
I loved the sex. She was good at it, as was I, I assume, which is why she kept coming back. Oh... if I could only tell you what I did to her and how I did it... but that's not the type of blog I am doing here. Let;s just say that sex with Junko was taken to a new level with every night's visit. We did things to each other that I had only read about in a Penthouse letter column - and then took that up several notches.

So what was the problem? Well... she was dropping out of university so she could follow me around during the day - sitting in her car outside my school - watching me - perhaps to see that I wasn't screwing someone else. I was - Ashley, my ex-girlfriend and ex-friend-with-benefits... but she didn't mind that... it's like she knew that she (Junko) had some sort of power over me... and that whatever I had with Ashley meant nothing in the long-run.

If it wasn't for Junko self-destructing her life for me, I would have been her boyfriend, husband, gimp, whatever... but she was killing me with sex... so I asked for help from the OBOE to have them stop her from stalking me. I just needed to sleep.

After several weeks of her getting some help, I ran in to her again... and we screwed our brains out during a conference at Utsunomiya University - in an empty classroom. We picked up where we left off... only this time, she said she now had a boyfriend...

She also wasn't stalking me - she said - and I found no evidence of that... but when I told her I loved her and wanted us to be a couple, she said no. And the spent the night and blew my mind, among many other things.

I probably should never have untied her from the knots I cast around her, but I did.... and we each went our separate ways, knowing she would track me down whenever she was horny. I did know how to satisfy her completely, after all.

Ahhh.. but I am getting lost in the memories... You know I do that... sometimes it's all one has...

I want Junko. She only wants a part of me.... and it's not my heart.  

I look at her and smile and wave her over... but she comes back with a quick shake of her head... and turns her back on me so I can either not distract her further from her man... or to drive me crazy as I stare at her rear end. It's quite spectacular.

That's when Jeff comes out. With nary a backwards glance (okay... I keep turning around to see if she's looking - but she's not), Jeff and I march over to the train station where we catch a train and go to Tokyo to shop for books.

I love books. I buy a few horror books by Stephen King - just to see what all the hubbub is about. I've never read a book that scared me, and I want to see why this guy is so popular that's he's had so many books turned into movies.

I leave Jeff in Tokyo and head back home to Ohtawara, arriving home at 6:30PM.

I begin reading one of the books, and it bores me. Really? It was the devil? Yawn. A whole lotta nothing going on.

The trick, I see 20 years later, is that he got paid a lot of money for that, and me, and this blog where a whole lotta nothing happened... well... I ain't making any money.

I put the book down, and rummage around for a video to watch.

Ding-dong!!

It's the doorbell.

I know who it is before I answer it, as her apple blossom shampooed hair fills the void in my soul.

Junko steps inside as I hold the door open for her. As soon as I close it and lock it, she is already out of her clothes naked as the day she was born.

She takes my hand and leads me to my bedroom.

Somewhere trying to figure out a particularly difficult knot,
Andrew Joseph
The image on top are apple blossoms. My nose and tongue are not built for for smells or taste, it seems... but every once in a while, something comes along to knock me off my feet. Junko's apple blossom hair was one of those somethings. 
Today's blog title is by Blue Rodeo. They are a Canadian group... and I must admit that I never cared for them until today, as I prefer my music with a harder edge, what with me being a suburban punk and all.  I heard this song by them on the radio (Q107) as I drove into work this morning and nearly burst out crying. I just knew I had to write about my life in Japan again in the blog. It still hurts. Beautiful song, though. 

       

 

See The Light

It's Thursday, December 12, 1991, and despite the events of last-night, all is not crap for me here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. It only just seems like it, though.

The alarm clock was set for 6:30AM, and when it goes off, I re-set it for 8:30AM. Today is going to be a sick day. Despite the fact that my stomach feels like it was kicked by a mule, it was only some Indian curry that made it feel like I was partaking in the sacking of Carthage.

But... my head is also achy... probably from coming down with con-junko-itis, who yesterday fooled me into believing she had called my office (the Ohtawara Board of Education) on my behalf to beg for a day off for me.

It was something I thought Junko might actually do for me considering she used to stalk me and I had to tell my OBOE to get her off me so I could sleep. They came and got her and took her back to school in Utsunomiya, and hopefully got her some sleep. But she's been better lately... while she and I meet for sex, there is no relationship. Odd, because we are both single... no wait... I am... she's not... she does have a boyfriend who buys her things, though. Me... I just give her things... if you know what I mean.

To be honest, I am afraid to talk to her about what she was going through. But never again. I will ask the tough questions. They don't have to answer, of course, and I will hate them for it, but at least I will have tried.

I make the call in to Hanazaki-san, who seems to understand as I tell him exactly how I am feeling. I have no reason to lie to him. The man knew I was being stalked by a sex-crazed Junko - and even though she was super hot - he knew I would never have complained if I didn't need to.

Hey... I was younger then.

Anyhow... my stomach is still out. I'm sure it's because of that curry diner I had with Matthew. It really shakes me.

... no wait a minute! That's an earthquake! The whole place shakes for 17 seconds. That's not a guess... I read about that the next day in the newspaper.

Anyhow... I was sick... and just to prove a point - I have no idea just what the hell I was thinking - I decided to get up out of bed after the earth stopped shaking at 11:30AM and go see what was in the fridge.

Oh look! There's a container food given to me by Mrs. Matsuda from the night school class I teach at on Monday. Guess what the food is? Uh-huh... Curry and rice. On the plus side, it's just curry, and was not the type of chili hot curry that hurt my bowels so very, very, very much.

So... 10 minutes later and no gurgling... the indian food stayed down. So I ate some left over lasagna I had made a few days earlier.

Later on, Matthew calls me to discuss women. Or rather: woman. Last night at the curry house, he determined that of the three women he liked, that Takako was the best woman for him. I have no idea what the others look like, but she's hot. Still, despite him saying that, I felt the need to tell him to dump the others and concentrate on her... something he knew, but probably just wanted someone else to confirm foe him.

Guys do actually know what's good for them and what's bad for them, but until they hear it straight from another guy's mouth, they will never fully listen.

So... apparently after our meal, he called up Mayumi - perhaps to tell her it was over - but she revealed that she had been dating another guy along with Matthew since November. Matthew was pissed off at her because she was using him to get stuff she wanted, and was going to dump him soon enough.

Oh boy... It's 2012... and I can't believe I wrote this in 1991, and wrote it seriously:

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, Matthew."

My diary entry continues: I play video games, do some laundry, and tidy up my apartment. Feeling lonely, I call up Karen, a Canadian girl who wants me for a boyfriend, but I just want without any strings attached, and then call up Ashley... my ex-girlfriend and now apparent;y my ex-friend-with-benefits.

Karen describes herself as a 'whale', which for some reason makes her less appealing to me.

Ashley invites me over to dinner tomorrow. Oh god. It's either soup or spaghetti. How come I have never seen a bottle of anti-acid here in Japan?

I go to bed early at 11:30PM wondering what the hell ashley wants? If Karen's description is accurate? if Junko is crazy? Or if Matthew and I are.

Whatever... at least I'm still getting sex... and with the best-looking one of the bunch (sorry, Matthew, but it's true).

Somewhere blinded,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is played by the awesome Jeff Healey, who sadly passed away four years ago on March 2, 2008. I have watched Jeff, a blind guitarist and singer play maybe 20 times between 1988 and 1990, and I consider him to be one of the greatest rock guitarists ever. Though, depending on his woman situation, he was either bang-on bloody fantastic, or bang-on bloody awful. He really felt the emotions from his women, and it affected they way he played. Even when he was down... it could be great show or a bad show (relatively speaking)... there was just something - that little unknown something, by the way - that could flip his guiitar-playing one way or the other. His song, See The Light, is dedicated to Matthew... who obviously saw the light. I still have not... or perhaps have been staring at the light too long and gone blind and am just waiting for someone to come and ring my bell and let me see the light.

Thinking Of You

It's December 11, 1991. I'm at my apartment in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan having just got off the telephone with Hanazaki-san, one of my two bosses at the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE).

He had just called me to find out why I did not go to school today to teach (at Ohtawara Junior High School), and I was confused, because I had thought that the woman I had spend the day with, the sexy and effervescent Junko had actually made arrangements with the OBOE to get me the day off so we could spend some time together.

Turns out the sly and wily Junko made no such arrangements - she had lied to me - or was having fun screwing me around.

I'm unsure if that's funny or disturbing.

For anyone else to have done that to me, I would be on the floor laughing my butt off. 

But Junko... ahhh, Junko. She was my stalker, whom I had to get the OBOE involved to get her some help months ago. The fact that she is now back in my life - albeit with a boyfriend back at Utsunomiya University where she goes to school in anticipation of being an English teacher - well, she seemed far more adjusted.

She no longer stalked me, and only showed up when it seemed like I needed her the most. Junko has no clue, however, that I need her all the time... but only if we could do something together as a couple... like have lunch.... in public... and not just stay inside my apartment rutting like horny pigs... uh, not that there is anything wrong with that. In fact, in many scenarios, that would be perfectly acceptable.... but I feel there is nothing wrong with one's sexual partner being more than that... a lover, if you will. Where you care about the other and she doesn't merely become an over-night sperm bank receptacle. Again... there is nothing wrong with that scenario, either.

But Junko is Junko. And I guess I not only want my cake, but want to eat it, too.

So... is what Junko did just now so bad? We went out for lunch - albeit in another town... but we did go out. And you know what... it doesn't matter which town we go to in this prefecture... excluding the really big cities of Utsunomiya and Oyama, people seem to know who I am. And with a supreme looker like Junko, people pay extra attention - even if it's just to see who she is with... and then they see... oh... that's An-do-ryu-sensei (Andrew teacher). Sukebi (pervert).

Yes... I am that well know. I hope. Or do I mean, I hope not?

 Hanazaki-san was aghast at me having been in contact with Junko again - having thought I was smart enough to have left well enough alone. But man... I can't get her out of my mind. Not from the first time we saw each other... or rather, since that first time I smelled her apple blossom hair.

I have little sense of smell and my sense of taste isn't so good either, so when something slaps me in the face and makes me take notice, I take notice.

Fortunately, Matthew pops by wanting to know if I want to go out for dinner. Matthew is an assistant English teacher like myself, on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme. He's an American, I'm a Canadian and that's where the differences stop as far as I am concerned, which means there are no differences.

We ride out from my apartment and I spy Miss Yaita, a teacher at Ohtawara Junior High School who wanted to know how I was since I was sick and couldn't come to work today.

Crap. This is already starting to hurt. Junko!

I tell her I'm fine, muttering under my breath about how fine Miss Yaita looks. Matthew was impressed at her fine self and at how she gave me a hug good-bye. A Hug? A Hug? She never did that before! I'm betting she could smell the sex all over me from Junko. It's my opinion that that scent makes men more attractive to other women. Perhaps they should bottle that? Eau du Skank.

Anyhow, stupid joke aside, Matthew may have been thinking of me as being of Indian descent, I might enjoy going out for some curry & rice, I agree. Until I met Matthew 16 months ago, I had never eaten curry and rice, much to the chagrin of my parents and every woman who ever dated me hoping that I could help them find a really good Indian restaurant in Toronto.

I only look ethnic. In fact, I have relied on the kindness of strangers to make me more ethnic by getting me to try new things because I have only ever wanted to me more Canadian. Funny, because Canadians (at least those that I have known) really have no problem in trying new things. Ah, me.

At the restaurant, Matthew and I get the obligatory stares from the local townsfolk, but only for a few seconds. We've become more of a fixture here in Ohatawara. People know us and accept that we love being here in their country and so simply curiosity gives way to more acceptance that we ain't no big deal. By that, I mean no one calls us 'gaijin' (foreigner!) even if they might think it.

To show that I am still of Indian descent, I go mucho crazy and order the hottest meal they have. It was a #7, a volcano-style curry and rice. I am no longer sure what the meat was, but it doesn't matter because I couldn't taste it.

Yeeee-owwwtccch! Fire! Help me, Buddha!

I don't know how many people out there have ever had their hair sweat - and I don't mean their scalp - but it's not fun! Hell, even the hair on my arms and chest oozed chili hot sweat. I sucked back three Eagle beers (a beer from India) and a yogurt drink and some milk. Nothing helped. The sweat kept falling into my eyes burning holes in my contact lenses. Didn't matter. The excruciating pain had me squint my eyes for the 50 -minutes it took for me to finish eating... and I did, because I hate waste. As well, my parents used to tell me that there were plenty of starving children in India who would love to be able to eat what I waste. Being greedy, I've learned not to share. Kidding about that...

Between mouthfuls and laughing at me sweating (I think everyone at the place may have been laughing at my body panic), Matthew and I talked about women. Ashley, I talked about... my ex-friend-with-some-sort-of benefit - but I don't talk about Junko. That's still supposed to be a point of contention for the OBOE... and to be honest, I don't want to tell Matthew just how screwed or screwed up I am. He already thinks that, I am sure.

He also begins talking about women to me: Takako, Maymi and Ikiyo. Three of them? Hmm, maybe we're both screwed up!

Anyhow, during his talk about the three, it's obvious he wants out of whatever he has with Mayumi - especially evident when he said, and I quote 100% accurately here: "I think Takako is the best woman for me."

Oh my Buddha! In no uncertain terms, I tell him to get rid of the excess baggage and to concentrate on Takako. I am sure I over-stepped my bounds, but he didn't seem to mind and I think just wanted affirmation of what he already knew. But geez, louise.... at this point in time in my life, why is it that I can give somewhat sage advice about relationships to everybody but myself?

Thanks to some severe loud gurgling from my stomach, I have discovered that Indian food made by Japanese people is not something that will stay within my gut for very long.

I calmly suggest we go home because I am tired, pay our bills and we leave.

We go our separate way, and as soon as he turns his bicycle away, I put pedal to the metal and race home with stomach tight - no mean feat considering I'm bloated.

I race up the stairs to my third-floor apartment, fumble for what seems like minutes with my key and the lock, move in and then relax... on the toilet.

Oh my god! It burns twice! Going in and out!

Somewhere my hair is sweating again,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is sung by Canadian rockers Harlequin:

My Girlfriend's Back

It's December 11, 1991 and it's 7AM. I've been up for about 15 minutes and am just about to shave.

I had been waxing non-poetically about Junko... my secret girlfriend who enjoys my sexual company but doesn't want to be my girlfriend.

If I had known 16 months ago in Toronto that life in Japan would be simple and fun, I would have laughed in your face - it's an alien culture,  I don't speak the language, and I sure as hell don't know how to cook, clean, do laundry. I've also dated a few women, but I haven't been able to convince any to sleep with me.

And then arrived here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan back in August of 1990. While the culture of Japan is different, it's hardly alien, and I enjoy discovering things every day. I'm working on the language thing, but I'm not very good at it. I know how to do laundry, clean, shop and can cook a few meals - enough to satisfy my hunger pangs anyway.

Women - I've been in like Flint. It's been ridiculous. Can this many people in Japan either find me attractive or interesting? I have no clue, what it is. But I better get the getting while the getting is good.

Which brings me back to Junko. I'd suggest the refresher course written HERE to bring you up-to-date.

I'm not in love with Junko, but I do really like her. I'm not in love with anyone. Maybe not even myself. I have no idea what I'm thinking these days. It makes for interesting times, to be sure.

Ding-dong!!

I wonder for half a second who on Earth it could be, as I quietly sneak up to my peep-hole on the front door... but before actually looking through, I smell it. Apple blossoms.

It's Junko. I smile inwardly and outwardly, and I swear a part of my twitched involuntarily in excitement at meeting her again and again. (Did I spell that correctly? Note to self - check later before publishing)

How strong must that shampoo of hers be if I can smell it through my metal front door and paper-thin walls?

It's like ambrosia... and I feed hungrily at her altar.

She's sexy and stylish... a sharp dresser when I get to see her with her clothes on... which is not now, as I have just let her into my place less than 10 seconds ago, and she has already stripped down to total nekkidness and has her arms and legs wrapped around my erect posture as she thrusts her tongue maniacally into my mouth probing my thoughts like a Japanese porno cartoon tentacle.

I'm only human (mostly), and a heterosexual man, so I do what any guy would do in my place - I break our lips apart and ask: "What are you doing here?"

(Oy vey! 2012 Andrew, who has his own female issues, can't believe 1991 Andrew is such a schmuck).

Just so you know, having been a virgin until I was nearly 26-years-of-age, I have a very muscular right forearm, that may or may not have been developed from years of playing the accordion. I have dreamed about doing all of the nasty things Junko have done previously. No strings attached, through the occasional rope has been. Not my idea, but have always enjoyed going with the flow... however....

Stunned by Junko's stunned look, I repeat myself: "What are you doing here?

"It's Wednesday, and you are supposed to be at school (Junko is student at the University of Utsunomiya and wants to be either an English teacher, a porno queen or a housewife).

I'm confused/concerned - and apparently pragmatic - and want to make sure she doesn't give up school to be with me. We can do both.

"I'm taking the day off to be with you," she smiles with soft supple lips and dark brown eyes. If you never seen eyes dance ballet, I highly recommend it. Graceful, elegant. Leaping... basically, it's breathtaking. I've never seen a ballet, however, a hot friend did show me a clip once, so I do believe that qualifies me as an expert.

Now maybe I've been screwed around by women - and not in a good way - but while I certainly do believe Junko, I wonder about her timing. It doesn't stop me from screwing her brains out. Twice. Before taking a break.

Whack! Smack! I beat myself up. Yet another woman is using me for sex and doesn't want me for a boyfriend! What is wrong with me? Nothing, obviously. So what is wrong with these women?

I suddenly remember that I was supposed to go in to Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School) and teach today. Crap! I'm two hours late! (I like to take my time).

I swear out loud and tell Junko: "I have to make a phone call!"

"Silly Andrew,"  she mews like a naughty kitten unwinding a ball of yarn. "I already called the kyoikuinkai (board of education) for you.

"I knew you would be busy as soon as I arrived."

"You-you did?," I stammered... or did I stutter?

She grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

If any of you have ever read Garfield, you would know just as I do, that you can never trust a smiling cat... even one that is lying there lying naked beside you all sweaty and sticky and trying to bite your right nipple.

"What did you tell them?"

"That I had come taken a day off from school and wanted to see you."

"..., " I thought to myself.

"They aren't coming to rescue you, Andrew."

"What?!"

"I mean, there's no need. I'm fine."

She certainly is, I think as I stir from my position and pull her on top of me... mostly to stop her from nipping at my nipple. Okay... I know all of the women I've been with seem to like this sort of abuse, but I can take it once or twice and then leave it.

After more physical abuse of epic proportion that once appeared in letter form in a 1996 edition of Penthouse, we took a break.

I was hungry, and man can not live on Junko food alone. 

Expecting Junko to either pull some food out of some magic bad I did not see her come into my apartment with, she blew my mind...

"Come... let's go out for lunch."

Whaaaaaa—aaaaaaaat????" I asked with my voice getting higher on the second syllable.

You might think a Japanese sex kitten might not get my speech pattern joke, but she grabbed by testicular sac in her right hand and squeezed.

To quote Roger Rabbit: "Look, stars! Ready when you are Raoul!!!"

My eyes eventually rolled back to the front of my face allowing me to emit a thankfully low guttural growl of pain.

"I know you are making a joke of me never wanting to go out with you in public... but, Andrew... I want to."

Not wanting to screw up this opportunity, I instead asked: "What changed your mind?"

No-no-no-no! Why ask anything. Just shut up! She still hasn't let go of your gonads!

Looking down, I could see that the inner dialogue voice from the last paragraph was correct, as pulled down and then squeezed again in a whole new level of pain.

Wow! I'm going to have to buy her a leather suit.   

Idiot! She's already naked! Why do you need to cover her up?

Fortunately, I'm always right, and I pushed all thoughts of covering up her magnificent body with anything but myself.

And so... not getting answer to my last question, and afraid my secret-girlfriend would go nuts if I asked again, I got dressed quickly so that I could watch Junko dress. She knows I like to do that (with her), and actually did not start until I was ready to watch.

I want you to know that I never actually verbally communicated that I enjoyed watching her get dressed - but she knew.

While not quite finishing each other's sentences, we were at least on the same page of the book.

So we got dressed... and went down the elevator of my apartment building and as I walked towards the downtown food and entertainment core that was a three-minute drunken stagger to the west of my apartment - she stopped me and said: "Let's take my car."

Thirty minutes later in Kuroiso-shi north of Ohtawara-shi, we parked, and went into a noodle shop where we were welcomed loudly, seated in a corner and quickly served.

I paid - afterall, she drove and I insist on purchasing the meal of our first outside date.

After we eat, we get back into her car and drive. She's on the right side of me (she's driving).  I turn and face her and snake a left hand up along her jeaned leg and rub her zippered area.

"Pull over somewhere," I instruct her.

"No," she says as she slaps my hand away playfully. "We'll be home soon."

And lo and behold, we were back at my apartment, where a rehydrated Andrew and Junko made complete asses of themselves for a few more hours.

Ah... it's great to be with Junko.

It's now 4PM when she says she has to go.

"It's 4PM. I have to go, Andrew," she says.

I already new that a sentence earlier, but I stood holding her in my arms trying to think of something clever to say to make her never want to leave me again.

"...," I said. Bloody brilliant.

"I love you, too, Andrew," kissed Junko as she turned on heel and opened the door.
"I'll see you when you least expect it."

She needn't have added that last sentence. I knew that already.

As the door closed, my telephone rang.

"Moshi-moshi," I intoned and bowed into the telephone. Man, I've been here too long.

" - "

"Ah! Konichiwa Hanazaki-san. Kyo-wa o-genki desu-ka?"

" - "

"Sugoi"

" - "

"Genki desu."

" - - - - - - - - - - - - - -,  - - - .  - -  -  -- - ---- --- -?"

"Eh, nani?"

"---- - - - - ---- - ---- ------ - -! - - - -  - - - - ------."

Oh crap.

Apparently Junko did NOT call my bosses to tell them I would not be going in to work.

Still on the phone, I slide open the door to my north balcony (I also have a western one), I step outside in my barefeet wearing just a pair of white underwear and peer down to where Junko had last parked.

She's there leaning on the hood of her car with the cool wind blowing her hair in a sexy fashion.

She waves up at me and quickly glides into her car and drives off with her right hand out the top of the window waving - she without a backwards glance. 

"Hanazaki-san? Junko desu."

"Dame daiyo!" my telephone screamed at me.

Somewhere I've been had,
Andrew Joseph
Should you require a translation of the Japanese conversation I spoke with Mr. Hanzaki, here you go:
"Cease your panic, I am here to answer the telephone in a friendly greeting sir or madame."

" - "

"Ah! Hello Mr. Hanazaki. How are you today?

" - "

"Excellent!"

" - "

"I'm fine."

" - - - - - - - - - - - - - -,  - - - .  - -  -  -- - ---- --- -?"

"Huh? What?"

"---- - - - - ---- - ---- ------ - -! - - - -  - - - - ------."

and then...
"Mr. Hanazaki... It was Junko."

"Nooooo.... wa-ayyyy."

Today's blog title is inspired by The Angels who sing: My Boyfriend's Back for your enjoyment.

There's Something About Junko

The problem with Junko, is she is never around as much as I want, now that I want her around.

It's Wednesday, December 11, 1991 today, but months ago, I had my own private little stalker. We met at Ohtawara Junior High School where I was teaching that week as an assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.

I didn't have a girlfriend that week, so I was looking to fill a void... and then along came Junko.

Fresh from the University of Utsunomiya, Junko was studying to be an English teacher and was at my school as part of a week-long internship.

Gorgeous and sassy, brilliant and sexy, Junko immediately hit on me as I hit on her, much to the chagrin of every man - single of otherwise - who wanted to have a go at her. Yeah... she was that hot looking.

She also spoke English perfectly and did so effortlessly.

She came over that night and spent the night, and pretty much every night after that... a one week fling with a beautiful, young Japanese woman... that's all it was supposed to be... but Junko had other ideas... I have no idea what they were, but it involved her not going back to school and instead following me around to my next school, hiding in the parking lot and waiting for me to leave for home, watching who came and went from my apartment and when it was clear, would ring the doorbell looking for a marathon of sex and debauchery.

Now... for a guy who was a mere year earlier wondering if he would ever lose his virginity, Junko was a dream... she didn't want a relationship... she only wanted sex. Oh, and sex. And even more sex. And let's not forget about sex. Still, chafing was not possible, and the only soreness I felt was later the next afternoon when it became obvious that yet another day with sleep was not a good thing - despite the prospect with a Japanese babe who looked like she could make in the porno industry as a star.

After a couple of weeks of non-stop sex at night, my sleep-deprived brain thought there was something wrong with the body, and figured all of us needed a break.

Stupid sleep-deprived brain, screamed my weenis. We're getting and giving majorly deprived sexual relations with a mega-hot babe who doesn't want anything from us except for our salty secretions - and we were going to toss those out anyway.

But, being sleep-deprived, the brain had no idea what it was doing, and hallucinated that it was not feeling well and that it should get some of the local OBOE (my work - the Ohtawara Board of Education) to help get this girl off his ass (an interesting position somehow involving both of us being on top).

A teacher friend of his made a few calls, and later that night, they spirited Junko away.

Sleep-deprived brain of Andrew slept... and dreamed of hot sex with Junko.

Months later, Junko was long since back at school in Utsunomiya (the capital of Tochigi-ken), when her vagina and Andrew's penis sought each other out in a crowded university lecture hall. Like bloodhounds, the met. Like star-crossed lovers. Like a pizza delivery boy needing payment for the pie from the hot young chick lying naked on a blanket by a swimming pool that cost more than any pizza delivery boy ever made in his career. They were back as an item.

Despite screwing each others brains out in an empty university classroom (and getting caught - but who cares - look what I can do!), she told Andrew that she now had a boyfriend - a young Japanese kid - and that was that.

That was that apparently meant she would not stalk me again, but would on occasion make 40-minute car trip up from Utsunomiya to Ohtawara to visit my wang - but not me.

Just like before, she never wanted to go out in public with me - and no it wasn't an issue of shame - she just knew that any Japanese woman known to be dating a foreigner - especially this foreigner - would have to be sleeping with him. And despite the fact that when Junko was around, sleep was not part of the equation, she didn't want to come across looking like a slut.

Hmm... so I guess shame was a part of it. Or all of it. Plus, she did have a boyfriend...

I wanted her to be my girlfriend, and told her to dump him for me... but she hemmed and hawed in that traditional Japanese way of stalling that actually means 'no', but I am far to polite to ever utter the word 'no', so let me string you along with the promise of a possibility, even though by me doing so we are both aware that I am telling you 'no', so I am still being impolite to you, and I am so sorry I should commit seppuku.

Okay, I may be going a little over-board there. She knew I was not going to live in Japan forever, so why waste time dumping a Japanese guy will always be here for her.

Silly Junko. I would have stayed in Japan for you... but the sleep-deprivation did not allow me to realize that I should have said something to that effect.

Oh well... even though I don't have a girlfriend, or a friend-with-benefits, I still have a secret girlfriend.

... only she's not around when I need...

'Ding-dong!!!'

Somewhere hoping to be dehydrated,
Andrew Joseph

Been Down So Long

Do you know what's better than not having a woman who doesn't want to be your boyfriend or sleep with you?

Me either.

I've had one of those for months now, and the stress I felt while we were together would have broken me a long time ago if I realized I was stressed.

Do you know what sucks? It's having a woman who wants to sleep with you, but only does so on her terms. Why does that suck? Because it's selfish. I've also had one of those for months now.

Do you know what I want?

It's simple.

To feel like I am wanted. That I matter. And yet, here again, I sit with my pen and paper and jot stupid notes like this into my diary that I will never read again. I hope.

I've been down a lot lately. More than up, unfortunately. 

It's Tuesday, December 10th and it's 1991 and I'm living (sort of) in a small city called Ohtawara in the prefecture of Tochigi in Japan.

I've been pretending that nothing bothers me, but in truth, everything bothers me. Every single damn thing. About women.

I'm an assistant English teacher here, team-teaching with a Japanese teacher of English at seven junior high schools in the city.  I love the people around me. I do. I love seeing the kids and talking to them. I love being a small part of the lives of these kids - even for a fleeting moment - and wonder if one day they will think of me fondly. I really do think like this.

I just want to matter. 

Do you know what I want? I want to be able to communicate. In all of my so-called 'relationships' (you can tell I'm not pleased, as I used 'quote marks' and said 'so-called'), I have not had any problem in communicating my feelings or what I want from a friend or a girlfriend. And, to some degree, neither have they - initially. 

It's when things progress, or the rules change, so too do people. Some people handle change and roll with whatever life throws at them. Others need to formulate a plan of action or a plan of inaction while never really knowing just what the hell they actually want from life.

How can you make plans to do something if you have no idea what it is you want to do? You can't.

Sometimes, it's just best to let the chips fall where they may. That sucks, though.  I wish I had more control - any control... but I don't.


But I still know what I want. I'm still searching for it. You can tell I'm a communicative type of person. Do you know what I want? I want someone who can communicate with me. It didn't have to be all physical as it was with my secret girlfriend, Junko. It didn't have to be so intellectual as it was with my ex-friends-with-benefits Ashley.

I want a combination of both with the added benefit of emotional support. Someone to tell me I'm doing all right or there-there, things will look brighter tomorrow. I know they will... but sometimes it's just nice to hear someone else tell you stuff you already know.

Do you know why relationships fail? It's not because one person loves another more than the other - as Ashley tried to explain to me a few days ago - it's because people are unable to communicate effectively. That's just my own opinion, and right or wrong, at least I have one. 

How do you communicate with someone suffering with mental illness or a social anxiety disorder if they always have their guard up? I'm not saying you shouldn't try - by all means try. But it takes two to tango. Two to dance that beautiful dance of love. If one isn't pulling their weight, the tango suffers. And that would be such a shame for such a beautiful dance that everyone wishes they could do and do well, but so few are able to achieve.

I don't know how to dance, but I can dance well enough.

So... why am I so sad?

Because I'm going to do something stupid...

Somewhere I wander in communicado,
Andrew Joseph
Relax... I'm not a suicidal kind of guy. Never enters the equation. But, a lack of suicidal tendencies still does not mean I am level-headed. Never claimed to be anybody except myself. I think, however, that sometimes it sucks to be me. I should write that down.
Today's blog is by The Doors:

How To Survive Women - Now With More Junko!

Hey! My blog on how to date Japanese women was recently picked up by a friend of mine, Mister Manfred Mann and posted to his How To Survive Women blog. I've known Manny since we were teenagers, and as such, I have been following his first foray into writing since he told a couple of weeks ago that I better or he was calling in a loan.

Conniving bastard that he is, he still should have told me about his blog earlier! It's great!

Anyhow, since I now read everything he writes (writers need their ego stroked every once in a while no matter what Mike or Charles says) - and since then, I've learned a lot about writing and women and even how to dress. It's a good blog and fun to read and all of you loyal readers should follow it - despite the adult warning for some of the blue language he uses, but I wish he would write more often - hint, hint!

I mean - penis sizes from around the world? Thank god I'm not Indian and am instead Canadian! Actually, if I was in India, I'd be a porn star. Ahhhh, but I digress.  

When Manny asked... sorry, Mister Manfred Mann asked if he could use my blog, I updated it for him with some additional pictures.

Now... for those of you who read about my life and crimes in Japan from 20 years ago - well... check out the first photo in this revised version for a peek at someone who looks a hell of a lot like Junko. I did a double-take when I saw her, because... well, despite being one hot babe, she looks like Junko, my sexy secret girlfriend of whom I have no photographs.

Read my blog on that site HERE.

Did I date beyond my means?

Yes, I smile knowingly.  

I still do.

Cheers
Andrew Joseph

Blurry

It's still Sunday, November 24, 1991.

It's a good time to be here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.

The woman I just slept with an hour ago is my ex-girlfriend. She doesn't seem to have a problem with me sleeping with other women as long as they aren't any other assistant English teachers or Japanese women she might know.

Of course they are, but she doesn't need to know that. Although... I am unsure if she knows about my secret girlfriend Junko who had just spent the night being a very naught kitty with me.

So... it beats me how I'm supposed to top the rest of the day, gentle reader... bear with me and let's find out together.

Ashley and I are on a train south from Nishinasuno-eki to Utsunomiya-eki, where we will change trains and head northwest toward Nikko-shi. It's all about a 1-1/2 hour trip that would only take maybe 30 minutes if we could only go west from Nishinasuno to Nikko... but we can't.

Japanese women are still chatting amicably with Ashley as they can probably smell the sex all over us, while no one talks to me... I'm perfectly fine with that. I've always been a kind of a loner who really needs his alone time, but is probably kind of needy the rest of the time. Hey... it's only pathetic if you don't realize it yourself.

It's a beautiful day out... a little nippy, but it's still nice enough to not need a full on winter coat. I'm content in my sweater and wind-breaker.

Arriving in Nikko, Ashley and I walk up the main street of Nikko to our store - Takamoto's. It's an antique shop we first stopped in over a year ago, and we seem to go back at least once every five or six weeks. I think we keep the owners in business.

Ashley buys a wooden statuette for herself that costs ¥40,000 (~Cdn/US $522.15), while I conveniently forget to write down the prices in my diary for a picture scroll from Takamoto's, and from other shops: three wooden monkeys (a version of THIS),  a noh mask and some x-rated sake (Japanese rice wine) cups (see image at the top!) for my little brother Ben who is seven years my junior.

My contact lenses begin to bother me. I have a scratched cornea and have been wearing an eye patch for about a week now. I have dick-all for depth perception.

Anyhow... Ashley and I have left Nikko and arrived back at Nishinasuno. After riding her back to her place, I ride my bicycle back to my apartment in Ohtawara.

• It's now 6PM.
• It's pitch black outside.
• My contact lenses are bothering the hell out of me.
• My eyes are watering.
• I'm wearing a black eye patch.
• I'm wearing black clothes.
• I have a broken bike light.
• The streets have no street lights.
• It's freezing cold.
• It's windy.
• And there are assholes driving on the road.
• Said assholes drive with their high beams on.
• There are a lot of assholes.

Somehow I make it back home and peel off my contact lenses and put on my glasses.
Despite my apartment still smelling of apple blossoms, sex and latex, I have no desire to have anyone come and visit me secretly this evening.

Okay... I can't lie to you. I do wish Junko would come by. 

I sit and watch some television and some videos sent to me by my brother.

I call up Ashley and ask her is she wants to celebrate US Thanksgiving  on Thursday (the proper date) or to wait a day and do it on Friday. It's no big deal to me... I'm from Toronto, and our Canadian Thanksgiving is a month earlier.... which Ashley never gave a crap about. At least my buddy Matthew and Kristine called to wish me. Why am I sleeping with Ashley?

Anyhow... Ashley says we can wait a day. Next Friday. Cool.

I jokingly ask her if she wants me to cook her a lasagna again (like I did this past Friday) for her, but she seems to waffle...

If she were Japanese, she would be sucking air through her teeth.

Somewhere I have eyes but can not see,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is brought to you by Puddle of Mud: