No Sex Please - We Are Young Japanese Men

If you are a young man, middle-aged man, old man, single, married or both - and not Japanese, you might want to take a trip to Japan soon.

While Japan is known for its fetishes, porn, liberal views on sex - despite the western image of Japan as being a bunch of straight, suit-wearing men with black-framed glasses and no sense of humor - there is, according to a recent study a disturbing trend going on n the country. Well, perhaps it's more disturbing for the heterosexual Japanese women.

Studies (plural) seem to dictate that young Japanese men don't really want to date or have sex.

Have the youth of today had their ego destroyed by one gaijin's sexual romps through their country 20 years ago? Uh... that would be me.

Is it because they have grown up without a father? Could I be their father?

No. Nothing could be father, I mean farther from the truth, though I suppose it could be possible I have about 20 kids somewhere, in which case I think I need a legal battle with the Trojan folks. 

Excuse me... but I have to sit down. Young Japanese men aren't interested in dating or sex?! What is wrong with you Japan? Did I teach you nothing in three years?! You can have your cake and eat it too... and then screw the cake.   

The survey was conducted in June 2010 by the National Institute of Population and Social Security Research, a research group related to the Health, Labor and Welfare Ministry, was based on answers from roughly 7,000 single men and women, mostly aged 18 to 34. The Tokyo-based think tank conducts the survey every five years.

The survey found that 61 per cent of unmarried adult men surveyed said they do not have girlfriends.


As well, the proportion of unattached men jumped 9.2 percentage points since the last survey in 2005, with 45 per cent of the no-girlfriend guys said they are not particularly interested in finding one.

So... what's the story? Why don't young Japanese men want to date women and screw their brains out?  

Some have said they just want to hang around and play video games.

Okay... I've played a lot of video games. I started with Space Invaders et al, knew how to do the old quarter on a string trick for free credits, had: a Pong; an Odyssey, Atari 400 and Atari 1200XE computer, Sega, Sega Genesis, Sega Game Gear, Nintendo Famicon and Nintendo Super Famicon, Nintendo 64, Ninetendo Gameboy, Nintendo Gameboy Advance, Sony PS2, Sony PS3... and there's probably a few others I've left out accidentally. I've even played video games on the computer - text games like Zork and HitchHikers Guide To The Galaxy, Leisure Suit Larry In the Land of the Lounge Lizards, - the whole Ultima series... some on a floppy disk... they real floppy ones!    

But let me tell you... back then... if there was a chance I was going to get laid I would have said sayonara to the video games.

Hell, even now... I have a PS3... I'd rather get laid by some little red-haired devil-woman than play Halo. Get my rocks off rather than play Guitar Hero. Your gaming skills don't impress me as much as your ass.  Is that not the way to think?

It doesn't matter if you think you are good at video games (the first time I solved the computer puzzle game Myst, I did it in seven hours - whoo-hoo! Where's my prize? I'd rather see a woo-hoo!) - we're talking about sex! Young Japanese men! Stop playing with your joystick and let a woman hit your reset button + triangle + circle +L2. You know what I mean.

The study complains that Japan's population could go down by some 30 per cent over the next 10-30 years. That's because there is less going down. Less dating = less sex = less babies.

Of course... this whole study implies that dating + sex = babies. Really? This is Japan, after all. Dating + sex + marriage + sex = babies.

Are married Japanese men coming home from a hard day of working for a salary and then plopping down in front of the TV to play Sonic the Hedgehog? Really? Who the hell was asked in these surveys?

Now... there may be something to the survey if it is indeed true that young Japanese men don't even want to date a woman because they are apathetic about dating and sex.  

One college student says, "It's not that guys don't like women. But it's just easier and more fun to hang out with other guys."

True. But I suppose it depends on how you define easy and fun. An easy woman is indeed fun - not that I would know anything about that, of course.

Another says, "If you want a date, you have to ask the guy out yourself."

I suppose we should all assume that the second speaker (Another says) is a man talking about what women should do. If not, and it's about a man talking about men, then we have another solution as to why men don't want to date women.

I would take this study with a grain of saltpeter (saltpeter was used to make sure you didn't get a hard-on). Sometimes a survey sampled can have results skewed one way, which isn't really representative of the majority of people.

The survey was conducted in June 2010 by the National Institute of Population and Social Security Research, a research group related to the Health, Labor and Welfare Ministry, was based on answers from roughly 7,000 single men and women, mostly aged 18 to 34. The Tokyo-based think tank conducts the survey every five years.

June 2010? That was before my life turned upside down. That was before Japan was devastated by the big Tohoku earthquake, tsunami and subsequent nuclear problems. That was before loss of income, jobs, abandon hope all ye who enter here.

Cripes! Things could actually be worse now in 2012!


The most recent 2010 survey found that 61 per cent of unmarried adult men surveyed said they do not have girlfriends.

As well, the proportion of unattached men jumped 9.2 percentage points since the last survey in 2005, with 45 per cent of the no-girlfriend guys said they are not particularly interested in finding one.

Let's schtupp! Now!

Now... 7,000 single men AND women is a fair-sized poll (sp)... not that Japanese women would know about that, so at least the pollsters tried... but how many were men? And how many men are there in Japan within that range?

It is possible (though unlikely, to be fair), that pollsters just got lucky (or unlucky as the case seems to be) in questioning all of the men in Japan that don't want sex.  

I think if you asked those men to look at the photo of the sexy Japanese woman just above, I think they would want to 'date' her two or three times a night.

Buried in the survey results, both single men and women are now actually more picky, and will wait longer to find the right partner.

While that is great, I suppose, but it still doesn't explain the high number of respondents who say they don't want to date or get laid. Does that imply that more people are interested in saving themselves for marriage? Oh... won't that be a disappointment when you realize your new husband or wife does not share you same sexual wants or desires! On the plus side, you won't have a reference point  for what lousy or great sex is like.   

Almost half of women surveyed are unmarried and unattached – and similarly to the men, about 45 per cent are content with staying that way for now. Still, also mirroring the men, the biggest surge in women without a partner is logged among those 20 to 24 years old.
This whole 20-24 year old single thing is good. Get married when you are ready, not because you must by a certain age.

My own parents were married (by their own choice) at the age of 24. I felt like a loser when 24 came and went and I wasn't married, couldn't find a girlfriend, and had never even been laid! Not for lack of trying either. Maybe that was because I was chasing the blonde super model with big tits. Whatever... I had not yet matured by that age. It doesn't matter what color the hair is - you can always get some hair color. What matters is that they are super models with big tits.

Maybe the Japanese are feeling that way, as well?  That they will get married when they are ready - not when their parents or society dictates they should get married.

Japan is not a Carrousel tour of Logan's Run. Time does not run out when you hit 30!

Too much masturbation can create nasty sores that will kill you.

I'm not concerned about that.

I am concerned about them not even wanting to have sex, and even more so about not wanting to date! How the hell are you going to have fun and experience proper social interaction if you never even date? How can you have any pudding if you won't eat your meat?

Of those surveyed, the average age that they want to get married by is 30.4-years-old for men and 28.4 for women.

Some number crunching for you: men and women aged 18 to 24 like being single because they feel they are too young to get married. Well, d'uh. You probably are.

As for WHY men and women of all ages (except the 18-24 group), the reason chosen increased for every group, stating that it was not easy to find that perfect match.

No effin' kidding.

By Andrew Joseph

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:

 

Ahead By A Century

It's been a while since I wrote one of these personal blogs.

Today is Friday, December 13, 1991.

I am an assistant English teacher (AET) selected by the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme to teach junior high school English for the city of Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan under the auspices of the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education).

But that's usually not what these type of blogs are about.

Having been virginal until I arrived in Japan from Toronto, I have made it my business to ensure that near 26-years of futility never happens to me again.

Today, I was supposed to be at the OBOE - and I was. But it was soooo boring, that I won't bore you with how boring it was.

I will tell you that the office expected me to join them at the bonnenkai (party) tonight, but rest assured I assure them that the 20,000 was a lot of money and that I could not afford it.

I probably could afford it, but I'm heading out to Singapore in a couple of weeks for a vacation with my friend James Dalton, and I need to watch the way I throw it around.

After work, I ride my bicycle to Ashley's place in Nishinasuno-machi - about a 25 minute ride.

With me, I have a couple of condoms (why?) because I also take a bottle of sake (Japanese rice wine) to heat up (her). I also bring along three videos: A Clockwork Orange; Good Fellas; and a porno flick in case I can interest her into watching or trying out some moves.    

I also bring my contact lens case because I know I am going to spend the night - even though after 16 months here, I can count on one hand the  number of times I have spent the night at her place and still have enough digits to thumb wrestle (and cheat!).

For about one year, Ashley and I were boyfriend/girlfriend. She broke up with me claiming that I was smothering her. Apparently the fact that she came to my apartment 4x a week (or more) and was fed by myself was all my fault.

Whatever. You know what? Despite being a social animal who craves acceptance, I grew up being exceedingly shy, and as such I am used to being by myself.  I don't like it, but I can handle it. What the hell, eh? Why should I be around someone who says I cause her discomfort?

I have no idea... I like getting laid, I suppose... but if that's not happening, then all I am doing is letting her leech from me.

Since then she decided I wasn't all that bad of a guy, and that she would let us be friends-with-benefits. Wait. I get to have sex, but not have to buy her crap? Like dinner, flowers, stuff like that? And... I still get sex? I'm in.

However, I haven't been laid in months. From Ashley, that is. I don't consider being jerked off getting laid. It's more like getting jerked around - besides, I have a far better grip than Ashley. Do I need her?  Let's see what happens tonight...

At Ashley's small apartment, we talk and eat a decent spaghetti dinner with garlic bread. Eating garlic bread is perfectly accepting behavior as along as both of you eat some.

We kiss a wee bit, watch the videos and drink the sake. Hint: Never cheap out and bring a small bottle of booze if you are trying to get laid. Hell... if it doesn't work, you will still have plenty of booze to drink yourself stupid.

After watching A Clockwork Orange, she's drunk and horny and jumps me. I am unsure how that über-violent movie made her horny AND drunk, but I don't care. We're naked in a flash and she guides me inside her - and the... something happened... she remembered something... that something being, I figure, that she doesn't want to screw me...

So, she made an excuse to go to the washroom, and when she came back she said: "Let's watch another video."

She stopped touching me. Stopped drinking the sake. Stopped being interesting. I however, started drinking a lot more sake. See?

Honestly... my mind is bloody racing. I'm not dumb, but I can't understand. I have no idea what the other video was that we watched... doesn't matter anyways...

I stopped the movie half-way through and asked her to explain herself. By the way... I'm not drunk or even buzzed. Being angry... it burns the alcohol from my brain quickly. I know that doesn't make sense, but that's what it feels like. Controlled anger. My cursing is my gift.

So... Ashley talks. Finally. I hate people who can not communicate. I can communicate - and then some. It probably makes me come off like some sort of grunting animal. Feral.

Ashley talks to me in slow, halting, but measured phrases in a style that I recognize 20 years later. 
 
 She says that one of the reasons she broke up with me was because I jumped her every time  I saw her.

Yes... feral. I wanted to hump my girlfriend. I am such an animal. I had no idea that men should not want to screw their girlfriend. I'll have to file that away for future reference.

I tell her that since she never initiates sex, I had to constantly try and see if she was interested.

She was interested sometimes. She was not interested sometimes. Since she never gave any indication other than ambiguity before I tried something, I, the recently deflowered virgin, would try and jump my girlfriend to see if I could interest her in sex.

She said what I said was true.

I told her that if she and I were to have any sort of relationship, I still wanted sex. She said okay.

I did not tell her that have a sexless relationship with her kind of defeats the purpose of having a friend-with-benefit if there are no friggin' benefits. But I was thinking it. Why would I need someone - female or otherwise  - if there was nothing in it for me? Ashley was a nice person (mostly), but she couldn't entertain me. Amuse me. Not unless sex was involved... and that may have just been me mostly getting my ego fed. No idea what the truth or reality was. I still don't.

Anyhow... I told Ashley that I would try not to jump her every time I saw her.

I'm unsure why I decided to tell her this, but I did: I said I once contemplated marrying her, which completely blew her away, saying "I don't know what to say." 

But... she added: "For the first time since I met you... I understand."

That means she realized just how much I loved her... or at least just how fervent my emotions are.

Although no sex was forthcoming, we did go to bed naked beside each other... warm, comfortable... and at least for myself, at ease.

But I am never at ease. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be at ease... taking every perceived slight or action or inaction as something that needs to be dissected and examined. I don't want to do that, but I fear I must or I will go further insane than that which I appear to be.

I had a dream....

The house I lived in was a former army barracks. My dad was there... he had a book and a map... the map showed the way to a coffin that held a special surprise inside. That's what I was told, as he pointed to the un-named book. My mother, father and younger brother Ben entered my bedroom in the basement, I sat on my bed, as my father led them past me towards the furnace. Beside the furnace, there was a wooden fence surrounding a storage area there, which they pulled away...My father looked at the map and said that the coffin was there underneath a guitar case... he moved the guitar case, and sure enough... there was a beautiful polished wooden coffin. I got off the bed and helped - probably because I was the strongest... and to see myself in this dream, that wasn't saying much. 
Grabbing the coffin, all four of us hefted it out of the furnace room and placed it down onto a second nearby bed. Prying it open, there was a mummy inside. Dad clapped his hands twice. The mummy sat up in the coffin. I jumped in shock and ran over to my mother and brother - not to protect them, but to be protected.
The mummy began to talk and offered a plethora of worldly advice, all of it pertaining to Ben: "I know you just wrote many exams and tests and are worried about them. Forget it. You did your best. You can't do anything about the past, so don't worry."
That's when I noticed my dad asleep on my bed. My brother called to him. Dad woke up saying, "I'm awake,' but then went immediately back to sleep. Ben shook him. My father sat-up in my bed and said, "I'm awake," and dropped like he fainted back down onto the bed. I then moved towards him and grabbed him and moved him onto his feet and woke him up with louts of yelling and shaking of his body. That's when I noticed the mummy faint away as my father woke up. Then as my father crumpled in my arms, the mummy resumed providing advice - this time to myself.
The mummy had some control over my dad.
Do you want to know what advice the mummy gave me? I'll tell you. He said...
"Andrew you need to listen carefully..."
He talked for what seemed like hours, but it was of course, far less time than that... 

And then I woke up.

Somewhere knowing I'll let you all know about what the mummy told me eventually,
Andrew Joseph
It seems stupid to say this, but when I slept beside Ashley, I always had colorful dreams that felt real. By myself... it was rare that anything stood out. Or perhaps I only remembered the dreams after being emotionally exhausted. To this day, I still force myself to go on very little sleep in order that I try and have a vivid dream. In 2012, since I suppose everyone dreams, I rarely remember any of them, but still wonder if I do dream. I do so badly want to live in my dreams... but what if I don't have interesting dreams anymore?
Today's blog title is by Canada's own The Tragically Hip because I had a feverish dream...

Hello Kitty Does Porn?

Okay... I'm not sure why this was sent to me or even why I think it's funny. It might have something to do with being a heterosexual male who likes Hello Kitty and wishes... well... never mind what I wish.

Still... someone had to create this graphic...

Thank-you?

Honestly, though... I looked at the damn picture twice before seeing it for what it is  - a wide-eyed cat that looks like a pair of breasts. Hee. That darn cat.

From Andrew Joseph & MH

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.

Piece Of My Heart

This is the third part of of my long day, Tuesday, December 10, 1991 where I lost my way, found my way and, well... you'll see.

The first part involved me ranting about women - something I understand upset a few people... including myself, as I locked away my brain and exposed myself to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. It was all about me lamenting life with women here in Japan, and how you can still get what you want and not be happy. RAVING MAD. I've tried to re-read it a few times, since I posted it, but I stop before I finish. Don't read it. I think I come across looking like a dick. I wrote it because that was the way I felt at the time. Messed up.

The second part involved me successfully going out on my own about town to get a key made. THE KEY. This one is fun. Read it. I've re-read it, and I think I'm feeling a little less like a gaijin (outsider), and more like a gaijin (foreigner). Yes...  I wrote that correctly. The word gaijin actually means outsider, and the work gaikokujin and its slang version gaijin means foreigner.  

This is part three.

I'm now home in my apartment here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. I've been home for a couple of hours after spending the afternoon getting drunk with an old man who made a duplicate key for my apartment - 307 Zuiko Haitsu.

It's probably the fourth such duplicate made of my one house key - none of which I actually went out to have made... always someone from my Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) office went out and did that for me. but after 16 months of sitting on my ass and having people do things for me, I decided I would do something for me by myself.

I have a great feeling of satisfaction for having got that key made, and the ensuing fun afterwards. At least this time, the key will be given to a Japanese person... a local and good friend, Nakamura Munaio (surname first), who also doubles as my barber/hairstylist. I love my hair. He's a hairstylist.
   
The other three duplicate keys were all given to my girlfriend at the time, Ashley. A new one was always required after I would request my key back after she would break-up with me because of her own insecurities, and I would always throw it away while standing in front of her in some meaningless but appropriate gesture.One probably sits amongst the railway ties at Nikko train station - another at Utsunomiya station, and a third probably hit a nearby neighbor's balcony stationed opposite my apartment.

I'm sucking on a nice cold glass of Coca-Cola huddled under my kotatsu (a low heated table with a quilt to keep you warm in the poorly insulated Japanese houses and apartment buildings), with my back up against the front of my divan.

I recently gave away my kerosene heater to Mr. Hanazaki, my OBOE boss. I don't want it and would rather freeze to death than die from inhaling kerosene fumes or from having to keep a door open to thin out the kerosene fumes. I hate the wind in the winter.

As I watch a rented video of the Silence of the Lambs--a movie adaption of a great serial killer novel , the doorbell rings.

It's Ashley. She still has a key to this apartment... but I broke up with her despite her having broken up with me months earlier. It's complicated. Or immature. Toe-may-toe, Toe-mah-toe depending on which way the wind blows.

In my head, I had expected her to bring over a box of all of the stuff she had borrowed from me and to give me back my key.

But no.

She does return a solitary book of mine (title long since forgotten - sorry... go have a bag of popcorn and stop calling me names), but has also come to lend me a book of hers that she thinks I might like. She wants it back when I'm done, however.

It's the book entitled '69' by Murakami Ryu (surname first). Hmmm. A peace offering.

I'm not rude. Or at least I don't mean or want to be. I invite her in, once more into the abyss.

As we sit side by side on top of the couch with the television off, we chat about fascinating things I cared enough to not remember. I still wasn't a writer yet.

Uh... you kids should stop reading now.

She does capture my attention when she tells me off a dream she had about a large penis that looked just like the pulsating, throbbing, tentacle-like ones in the Japanese anime. (Not sure what that is? You can look to the right, but it's still not it, as I'm trying to keep things sort of clean).

Ashley says this huge groping penis was pulsating beside her while she stood at a bus stop.

Not sure what type of penis she was describing, I try to solve the mystery by showing her some of the uncut illegal Japanese and American porno video tapes I have acquired. I know none of them will have a huge anime penis moving about like a disembodied tentacle, but she doesn't seem to mind.

She asks questions about porn and about sex. Me, the virgin until she popped my cherry some 16 months ago, provides the answers. She looks stunned. I have no idea why. I've been doing this sort of stuff to her since we met.

So... why ask questions... unless you are trying to make nice-nice?

She continues to watch. She excites me more than the porno does. I know because I'm not watching the porno.

I know she knows that it's been a hard days night (keeping it clean), but just in case, I tell her I've been working like a dog on his bone.

Not sure if I need to unveil my latest work of art to the audience, I decide to wait awhile longer.

Instead, I pull out all the stops and perform a classic ploy of mine that I use here for the first time: I ask Ashley if my hands are cold.

She has to touch them to give an answer. Apparently my hands are not cold, and she allows herself to hold on to for warmth. Hmmm.
  
I let go, get up and get us more Coke to drink, place our glasses on the kotatsu's table top and then scrunch under the kotatsu I had turned on earlier to get warmer. I take off my pants, which makes me colder, but I figure not for long.

Asking Ashley to join me, I watch as she hesitates just a fraction too long before saying okay. She tells me she knows I am pantless and panting, but allows me to take care of the business at hand myself. She just holds my hand.

I'm an animal now, and lean in and kiss her and lick her fingers, hands, neck and face. She's not holding back, either. Despite her hesitation. Soon enough, she's naked too... and we're going to town in the same manner as that book I mentioned previously, but needing to catch her breath she gets a grip on the situation and ends things spasmodically for me.

All over, she sits there stunned at what has over come her. Grabbing a box of tissue, we use up a half box just to clean up the spilled frothy coke.

Lying there a while, we talk about meaningless stuff I am too bored to remember, as all of the blood has stopped flowing to my brain for some reason. But I notice we never mention last Friday.

We dress, and I ride her home... on our bicycles, back along the dark unlighted streets, through the lonely, cold roads that seem to meander aimlessly through rice field after rice field, an old dry and rustling corn field and more rice fields.

Arriving at her door 30 minutes later in Nishinasuno-machi, we peck at each others lips in a clumsy good night manner as smile at each other in acknowledgement that we are far too tired and embarrassed about that spilled drink earlier... though she does mention how my apartment always seems to be permeated with the smell of sex.

I don't mention that its not always hers, but she knows I have slept with countless other women since our multiple, multiple break-ups. Though like a blood-sucking vampire and his victims, I have kept count.

I slowly wander home with the winter wind blowing like a hurricane in my face - forcing me back into reality... wondering just what the hell I was thinking or not thinking this evening.

I was free. I had escaped my fetters. The old ball and chain. And then I allowed myself to get caught - caught up in the moment again.

It was never my intention to have anything to do with Ashley again. Did she mean to give me a book called '69'? Did I read something more into that title? Did I judge a book by its cover? She hesitated dammit! That meant she wasn't sure if she wanted in or out, and instead took both... though, sexually, that never happened... now going on for several months.

Back home, I toss away the used tissues, pull out the book she wants back and read a few pages, pausing to wish upon a falling star that I was stronger in my resolve.   

Welcome to the beginning of the end of this chapter of my life.

Somewhere it's a weak day for
Andrew Joseph
Tomorrow... different day, and different crap.
Today's blog title is by the Janis Joplin led Big Brother And The Holding Company. I had thought about doing the title/song 1969 by the Iggy Stooge (now Iggy Pop) led Stooges, but 20 years later, maybe this is a song that fits Ashley's hidden thoughts better. Man... Janis was such a beautiful and powerful singer. 

 

3D Porn? Why Wasn't I Informed?!

Okay, perhaps I am more upset about not knowing of the existence of 3D porno movies than I am of the fact that Tokyo cops have recently grabbed uncensored - and thus illegal - porno DVDs in an Internet sale crack down.

I know crackdown should be one word.

Anyhow... for that exciting news story, visit the Tokyo Reporter: HERE

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:

Love Stinks

It's November 24, 1991 - a Sunday - a day of rest for those of the Christian-faith and, I suppose, atheists, Buddhists... hell... I'm sure there are more.... probably most people.... hmmm. Whatever! I didn't get to sleep at all last night thanks to Junko's snoring. Okay, it was more the slapping of skin and the grunting and squealing of pleasure at the top of her lungs even with me clamping a hand over her mouth to stop the neighbors from calling the police to investigate the gaijin murdering some poor young thing with his sadistic knife.
Okay... we were just having noisy, sloppy, wet and warm sex. I'm covered in it. So is Junko.
We're just lying there at around 8:30AM when something goes off in Junko (not me) and she snaps upright and says she has to leave soon because Ashley will be coming over.
How the hell does she know that? Does Junko have my phone bugged? Does she have Ashley bugged? What sort of evil genius am I banging three or four times an evening? Hopefully one who can barely walk.
Nope... she can not only walk, but she can jump, as she leaps from the bed and grabs her clothes from the carpet at the front door and gets dressed there. I get up and follow her and then stand there marveling at how sexy she looks getting dressed.
Guys...  you have probably never really paid attention to what a woman does when she's getting undressed as you are just lying there thinking: "Hurry the heck up!", but ... I encourage you to watch a woman get dressed sometime - even one in a rush - watch the jumping, the rhythmic gyrations, the shimmying, the bouncing... it's truly poetry in motion.
Junko is a poet  laureate and I have enjoyed reading between the lines.
Dressed, she leans in to kiss me good-bye. As her lips are about to touch mine, she slowly drops down to her knees while looking up into my eyes.
We don't have time for that, but she does a good job nonetheless.
It's 8:55AM when she stands up, reverts to a shy Japanese woman, bows, reverts to a clumsy Japanese porn star, bangs her head on my weenis, reverts to a shy Japanese woman, says sorry, stands up and covers her face with her hand and says "Good-bye An-dō-ryu-sensei."
That's me... the peaceful-leader-dragon-teacher.
The door closes, and I can hear her softly make her way down the spiral white painted concrete stairs beside my apartment.
I'm standing there naked and sighing inwardly when I hear foot steps tromping along the hallway to my front door.
Crap! It's Ashley! My ex-girlfriend with whom I am allowed to sleep with when she deems it necessary for herself - we're supposed to go shopping for antiques in Nikko today.
I am so tired... maybe I can make an excuse to not go... and if I can stay here by myself, I am sure Junko will use her spidey-sense and come flying back so that we can continue our marathon of degeneration. Marathon is a Greek town. I'm not tired enough to not do a marathon.
I run back into my bedroom as I hear Ashley insert her key into my lock. I slap on yesterday's underwear and walk out yawning to greet her.
As I lean in to give her a kiss, she pulls away suddenly.
"What's that smell all over you and all over the apartment?"
"What smell?" I ask honestly. I may have a large nose, but it's not known to be able to perceive much of anything. Regardless... it has its uses.
"Did you have some woman over?"
Crap! Need an excuse now, brain!! Hurry!
"Ummmmm..."
That's the best you have?! Crap! Doomed! Dooooooooomed!!!!
"So who was it? Some Japanese woman you picked up at the 4C?"
I nod quietly with my eyes darting from side to side looking for some sort of defensive weapon.
"Anyone I know?"
"No," I whimper as it is obvious no weapon is nearby.
"Good. As long as it's not another AET (assistant English teacher) or someone who knows me."
Wha - ? Is she kidding me? I'm pretty sure everyone I've boinked is either another AET or someone who knows her or both. Hooray for me. It's the problem with being a semi-famous gaijin in a small town. Big fish in a small town any day, baby.
"Everybody knows you, Ash."
"No," she corrects. "Everybody knows you, and thus people know of me."
She goes up on her toes to kiss me.
Okay... I'm up too... just not on my toes.
I think all of that sex in the air is contagious.
An hour later, a very dehydrated Andrew who is badly in need of a shower to wash off the sex scent of two women is happily riding with Ashley, first to the bank and then to the train station in Nishinasuno-machi.
It's weird (or not)... but the scent I have all over me seems to keep all of the guys away from us on the train... but is instantly recognizable by every single woman on the planet for some reason. It also made myself incredibly popular as some sort of sex god, and also made Ashley popular as the woman who made the sex god happy. Poor Junko lives on in anonymity.
For the first time ever, people begin talking to Ashley on the train while completely ignoring the contented me.
If this were a movie, it would fade to black with a locomotive entering a tunnel.
It's only 10:30AM. The day continues...

Somewhere I stink,
Andrew Joseph
Re: the image above... do you think 'polish the car' is an euphemism? You never know with writers! It's a panel taken from Marvel Comics' Teen-Age Romance #86 (March 1962 issue), written by Stan The Man Lee and what looks like art by Gene Colan and Vince Colletta.
Today's blog title is by the J. Geils Band:

Blue Suede Shoes

It's Saturday, November 23, 1991.

I'm an assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan.

I currently do not have a girlfriend.
I have an ex-girlfriend whom I sleep with named Ashley (American). She probably wants a boyfriend but doesn't want me for a boyfriend.
I also have an ex-stalker whom I sleep with named Junko (Japanese), who has a boyfriend and doesn't want me for a boyfriend.
I also occasionally sleep with anything female in a skirt when neither is around - both Nihonjin (Japanese) or gaijin (foreigner).
All of this depresses me because I just want someone to love.
And yet... in the 16 months I have been here in Japan, aside from the woman crap, I enjoy my life here immensely.
Everyday in Japan is something new.
Unfortunately, everyday in Japan with the women in my life is not.
Ashley had spent the night last night. No... we did not have sex, though she did manage to get off... and was too tired for me. I hate that.
She woke up early - probably because she went to sleep in my very comfortable Queen-size rather than her thin futon at her place - so that she could leave at 9:30AM.
She says she wants to go home and clean her apartment. It probably needs it, but there is no way in hell I am removing myself from my warm blankies to see her off. Especially after last night's snub.
I sleep in until 11AM when I get up to answer the phone call from my good buddy Matthew. I finally get up - this time for sure - at 1:30PM when Kristine (half American and half Japanese) calls me to thank me for the Game Boy I sent her.
Now Kristine... I don't sleep with her... but we would sleep with each other if she wasn't 500 kilometers west of me in Shiga-shi, Shiga-ken. But... despite that being something we would both want, I can't see it going further. I mean... I do... but not from her. Damn, she's one fine woman.
So... I get up... I clean my apartment, do a load or two of laundry, read a book for a while and then watch some videos from back home in Toronto courtesy of my little brother Ben.   
At around 8PM after eating some left-over lasagna from last night that I made for Ashley, I call her up.
I remind her that since we two are going to Nikko tomorrow that only the Ohtawara Ashikaga bank will be open, not the one in her nearby town of Nishinasuno. Hey... I plan ahead and asked around about the banking situation.
So... to save time, I ask her if she wants to come over now and spend the night.
Of course, I had just woken her up and she is far too sleepy now.
No sooner than I hang the phone up in disgust, but I hear my doorbell ring.
Regular readers will know who it is, and won't be disappointed.
Yes... it's Junko, who as soon as the front door is closed has already dropped her clothes on the floor, and is kissing me while struggling to removing my pants.
Will it be something straight, exotic or mildly dangerous today? Hopefully all three.
But how does she know when I'm alone? Stalking me again? It doesn't bother me as much as it should.   
Somewhere I need a better belt,
Andrew Joseph
The photo above is me standing in front of the main entrance of my apartment complex in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. Despite the cool beard and nice suit, my shoes are so ugly that I wish I had a pair of blue suede shoes! It was more than likely taken by Ashley. Junko had an aversion to cameras, despite her fantastic looks.
Today's blog title is by Carl Perkins because the song's lyrics fit on so many multiple levels today - and hey! If the shoe fits... wear it!:

Andrew's Worst Pick-Up Line

Oh man... I am so going to regret this... but I'll be brave. In yesterday's blog - HERE - I offered you my best pick-up line ever. Not much is different between that attempt and this one except that for this example I have a wing-man and I'm toasty, but perhaps not drunk. I mean... I wish I had that as an excuse.

This blog is dedicated to Luke, Mike and Matthew - but especially to Luke who seems to believe I have some magical powers over women.

I am a Canadian of Indian descent (dot not the feather) not that that is important to any woman I've ever tried to pick-up. I've been in Japan for 30 months now, and while I don't consider myself one, others do consider me to be a 'player'.

This occurs sometime in 1993 and I was somewhere in Japan as an assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.

If I'm less than clear in the facts, I do know I was drinking. I'm pretty sure I was at some sort of JET teacher's conference... probably a mid-year conference of some sort.

My good friend Colin McKay was with me. He's from Calgary, Canada. I'm from Toronto. I'm 28... and even though I was a virgins some 30 months before I came to Japan, I should still know better, as I have slept with over 20 women since then while not cheating on my girlfriend of 17 months.

Anyhow... for some reason, Colin and I are visiting the hotel room of two women we met down at some party - whose names are thankfully lost to the ages.

Our attempts at getting laid don't appear to be going very well.

Somehow the tall lanky brunette I like chirps up that she is Jewish.

Not knowing any better, and yet still providing the truth, I brag: "Hey! My grandmother's a Jew!"

Nothing but silence for six seconds, until Colin screws his face up at me and asks: "Is that the best you've got?"

I say: (shaking my head slowly) "It appears so."

Says Colin: "Then we should leave now."

I nod weakly in acquiescence and say goodnight to the two women as I close the hotel room door behind me.

I could hear the two women howl in laughter as I left.

Needless to say Colin gave me the gears on that one and took great delight in telling every one of my very lame attempt at picking up a woman.The worst part was that I wanted the other woman.

I resolved to not be a player ever again.

Somewhere still shaking my head,
Andrew Joseph

Andrew's Best Pick-Up Line

This blog is for my buddies Luke and Mike and Matthew. Just know that like all of my adventures, this is a TRUE story... a true pick-up line!

I'm in the Java Jive dance/drinking establishment in the Roppongi district of Tokyo, Japan and it's 1992. I am indeed an assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme. I've been here in Japan - at the time of this particular uttering - over 24 months. I live in a very small city called Ohtawara-shi in Tochigi-ken, and every couple of months I go down to Tokyo to unwind. That means drinking, dancing or whoring with whatever good-looking lady I can pick-up.

On this occasion, I am surrounded mostly by other foreign women. I know I came in here with one young lady who had just arrived here a day ago via JET... but I don't see her.

Whatever. I'm 5-11, 175lbs and have hair down past my shoulder blades in a neat pony tail. I'm not the best looking guy in the world, or the smartest or funniest or even nicest... but I am a close number four in all those categories. Just kidding. It's more like number six. 

So... it's around 11PM... and I'm standing at the bar drinking a vodka and orange juice (screwdriver) when a good looking young brunette close to my height and built nicely, if not conservatively begins to talk to me.

I should admit that I'm on my 6th screwdriver... toasty but nowhere close to being drunk.

After the preliminaries, she asks me a question for which I respond:

"My occupation? I'm a prostitute. Well, actually - not yet. But I'm going to be. What I'm doing now is trying to find a beautiful woman to help train me on how to best satisfy a woman. I'm reasonably sure I've got it down pat, but it's always good to have some input from someone who would know."

Her response: "That's the most original piece of bullshit I've ever heard!"

My response: (smiling) "Yeah, you're right. Do you want to dance?"

Her response: (smiling): "Yeah."

She spent the night at my hotel and we didn't sleep.

Somewhere I was like Ferris Bueller,
Andrew Joseph
Tomorrow - Andrew's worst pick-up line ever. This blog really is an embarrassment of riches!

1 in 200 Japanese Women Have Appeared In Porn

You can file this under - WTF?! According to the www.TokyoReporter.com, one adult video producer estimates that 1 in 200 Japanese women have appeared in an adult film. And he's not talking about the home-made stuff.

This is more than double earlier estimates of the industry that suppose that 1 in 400 Japanese women have appeared in porn.

No evidence is actually offered to back up this statement.

Personally, I would have guessed the number is still low... especially when compared to my time in Japan between 1990 and 1993, when I swear every Japanese woman I slept with was a porno star. At least in their own right. Why didn't I keep the films as proof? Back then I was known as Myles Long.

I know, I know... I'm Canadian... I should have gone metric and used the moniker 'Kilometers Long'. Yeesh.


Regardless of my stupid jokes, you can see what I mean here: 

 Files by Andrew Joseph

Maybe Baby

It's Saturday November 16, 1991. Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. I'm an assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.
Feeling the love from my secret-girlfriend Junko, I have decided to throw caution into the wind.
After a marathon bout of what some people call sex, I am feeling somewhat confident in having her be my regular girlfriend.
As my former stalker, she has a boyfriend back at Utsunomiya University and is able to not stalk me every waking minute of the day (and night, as she doesn't allow me a chance to sleep preferring instead to fill the time with lurid sex)  - she seems more in control of herself.
That's a good thing. I would really like a girlfriend who seems strong and secure in herself. I'm not naive enough to assume she is baggage-free. Everybody has some sort of baggage to bear. At least now it's not luggage requiring three dollies and a Red Cap porter. I hope.
So... as mentioned last blog, I partially untied Junko and told her I want to talk.
Nothing like a captive audience, eh?
Just so you know, I did remove the gag. Eventually.
Hey... I was a virgin until a year ago. I might be a bit freaky, but this type of a sexual romp was all her idea. Apparently I was a very willing participant who learned the ropes as he went. I know... I'm very knotty.
"So... Junko... nod your head if you understand."
nod.
"Good girl. So... we've know each other for a while... and I know we really enjoy each other's company. I was just wondering if you wanted to be a real couple and be boyfriend/girlfriend? I'm going to remove the gag now."
"Can you untie me please, Andrew?"
Man, I love her English... it's better than my own!
A few minutes later she's rubbing the blood back into her arms... and I'm probably grinning like a hideous idiot.
"So... what do you think about what I said? Would you like for us to be a real couple?"
She looked at me with sad brown eyes and smiled internally so I could not see, opened her lips and showed her teeth.... and then began the longest sucking of air through her pearly whites I had ever seen or heard come from a Japanese person.
For those of you unaware, when a Japanese person - male or female - is asked a question for which a negative response is required, rather than offer the non-positive answer, they will instead provide a non-committal response.
It involves the sharp sucking of air through the teeth followed by a smile and one of 47 words the Japanese have for the word 'maybe'.
"Tabun," she says after inhaling all of air in the bedroom.
"Tabun?" I asked scrunching up my right side of my face while lifting up my left eyebrow.
"Tabun?" I said aloud again. And why was she suddenly turning Japanese, when she has really only ever been a psycho sex goddess sent from Hell to torment my wang.
Tabun does indeed mean 'maybe'.
What the hell? Is she just looking for all of the sex without any of the commitment? Can I seriously do that? I should be able to, what with being a guy. But... why doesn't she want me for a boyfriend? She has one, but obviously he can't do for her what I do for her or she wouldn't be corralled in my bedroom! A few months ago she would have married me! And now?? Oh... right... now she's sane.
Crap.
Tabun.
"Okay, Junko... I'm not going to annihilate your Japanese and female 'sensibilities' and ask why (I said that last part in my own head)... I'll assume that you want to keep our arrangement the way it is?"
She quickly nods yes, looks down and says "Hai" (Yes) like she is ashamed. Hunh. We did quite a few things over the past couple of hours that she could have been ashamed of, but this? She cares enough to not want me disappointed.
Meh.
It's a place to start.
But then again... I'm already in a great place to start. Sex with a gorgeous young woman and I don't have to even buy her dinner, diamonds or even date her. I just have open the door of my apartment, smile and help her undress.
I can do this...

Somewhere loosening the ties that bind,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is sung by the great Buddy Holly & The Crickets. How appropriate that the car in the YouTube image below is a 1949 Mercury (the James Dean car) - considering my own car blew a header gasket just a few hours ago as of this writing. It's now dead, and I need to get a new car. It was particularly galling that this possibly $2000 part to fix is the same price I paid for the car four months ago. Also galling was that I paid $300 to fix a hose on it earlier this morning, not including the $400 tow required three days earlier when said hose gave up the ghost while I was driving on the highway. It was this blown heater hose that must have heated up the gasket to cause it to blow. The hose itself was a $72 item. This all happened on Friday the 13th - formerly my lucky day as it was when I had first gone out with the woman who would be my first wife. Yes, I said 'first'. I might as well be optimistic.   

You Could Be Mine

Now that I have your attention - read the blog!

One of the annoying truths about being me is that I am a happy-go-lucky person. At least I am now in 1991. I'm Teflon, baby. Nothing sticks to me. Nothing what so ever.

Except for women.

And I don't mean that in a sexual manner... although...

Women have been my one weakness. Always have been. Perhaps I want what I want too much and women can smell desperation. But, if that were the case, women would smell desperation oozing from every single heterosexual man on the planet.

Desperation breeds tiny monsters. I came up with that saying about 11 years earlier back in 1980 when I was around 16.

I was a quiet and very shy person around everyone when I was 16 - King of the Nerds. That was me. I collected comic books, played Dungeons & Dragons ( I was usually a cleric - a fighting priest of chaotic neutral demeanor), played the accordion, loved Star Trek, read Fantasy and Sci-Fi books voraciously, watched cartoons and was a virgin. D'uh. The only sport I played then was soccer - and I was pretty damn good, but I loved all other sports, so there was hope for me yet. I also had a large purloined porno magazine collection.

I reinvented myself as a 17-year-old when I grew a foot taller. I became an aggressive asshole. I carried a pocket knife and may have used it once to fend off someone who spewed blood all over me one New Year's Eve. I stuck him in the leg after being knocked to the ground. That was a reputation made-to-order for the freshly abdicated King. Arrogant with any reason to be. Hey... I was full of anger at being treated like I didn't matter. That phase lasted until I was about 24.

Then I reinvented myself again. I found my middle ground. Shy, but could flip at the snap of the fingers. It's also when I went to journalism school at Humber College in Toronto, and I think that helped temper my so-called ego a bit.

I should mention that no matter what.... I have always been seen as friendly and happy and always smiling and willing to go that extra mile to help out a person whether a friend or a stranger. 

When I was nearly 26 and came to Japan (though I had to leave my porno and still growing comic collection behind), when I re-invented myself yet again. Being a bit wiser, I kept the best of everything I had previously and got rid of that infernal shyness and that assholeness. And that's when women not stuck to a porno magazine became real to me.

Of course, it actually helped that the women in Japan helped me get over said shyness. I finally lost my virginity a few months shy of 27 after less than a month in the country - and 14 months after that - despite being faithful to my girlfriend, I slept with 11 more women. Hey... my girlfriend kept breaking up with me. Thank goodness.

But here's the kicker. Not once did I ask any of them out. I was asked out by them. Canadians. Americans. Aussies. Kiwis (Kiwis - why does New Zealand give their people the nickname 'kiwi', have a fruit called a kiwi and a bird called a kiwi - does kiwi mean something like "I have no other word to describe a person, animal and fruit'?), and of course, the Japanese.

So... did I really re-invent myself or did I suddenly become someone else when I landed in this country? The King is dead! Long live the King! I played baseball and soccer, knew everything about sports a fan should know...and now I was out-going... but was I merely an introvert pretending to be an extrovert?

Or maybe people are just more at ease with a guy who is sorta intelligent, charming, witty, tall, very dark and extremely handsome. Oh, and NOT an ego-maniac. Yeah... that's probably it.

Of course... if I was to fly forward some 20-years into the future and examine my 'good fortune' with the women with a discerning eye, I might have noticed at least one common denominator with all of the women I had slept with.

Sure... young, female, cute/beautiful or smokin' hot... intelligent to be sure. I have always preferred my women to be as smart or smarter than me - why would I want someone I know is not as smart as my near-genius self? Sorry... ego! Actually, it's not ego! Everybody else on this blue marble might look at me and say I have an ego, but personally, I look at it as self-confidence.

Still... I have never asked anyone out here in Japan.

So... what is that one common denominator in the women who have slept with me in Japan? God help me, but I think everyone of them is flawed emotionally in some way, shape or form.

Carry your baggage for you ma'am?

So what does that make me? Desperate, I suppose. Horny and desperate... and at last I have found the way to alleviate my problems while allowing myself to be taken advantage of by women.

Actually... it's not as bad as all that. Sure the foreign guys are all trying to score with Japanese women. That's a given. Foreign women don't usually go for the Japanese guys here... it's either a size thing, or it's because the majority of the Japanese men are sexist pigs.

Uh... actually... all heterosexual men are sexist pigs to some degree. Some of us just have the brains to recognize that, and thus can minimize the damage (by being cute - me!) or can find a way to exploit it (by being a player - not me!).

So... the foreign women are desperate for company... and I'm not hooked on just Japanese women. In fact... I've never given a crap about skin color or hair color, religion, size, country of origin. To me... women are women... none of whom would sleep with me back in Toronto... but here in Japan? Jackpot!

Desperation breeds tiny monsters. See? You thought I was talking about myself before, didn't you? Nope... I was talking about the female foreign contingent of Japan.

Of course... it doesn't explain the few Japanese women I have slept with. Perhaps alcohol was a factor.

But... that still doesn't explain Junko.

Junko is at my place right now. She used to stalk me.... wait until everyone would leave me alone, and then jump me in my apartment for sex. Hot, steaming, spank that ass, wet and wild sex that would go on for hours and hours leaving me dehydrated and sleep deprived, night after night.

I always knew I was good at sex... it was all those years of practice!

If it sounds like I am bragging, it's because I am. Self-confidence. I think.

Junko is built like a swimsuit model. Tall, slender, good curves, sexy face, apple blossom scented shampoo, long straight black hair past her shoulder blades all with an angelic face that belies the sex-drive of mighty Beelzebabe herself. Junko is the devil in disguise.

She is a university student down in Utsunomiya studying to be an English teacher - I met her at one of my junior high schools where I team-teach when she came up here for a one-week training session. She was supposed to go back to school after a week, but for seven nights of sheet-soaking fun and frivolity it turned into three or four weeks where she essentially forgot to go back to university and followed me everywhere (she was always in hiding), waiting until I was alone back in my apartment before banging a gong and getting it on (pushing the doorbell and the stripping before I could close the door).

We never went out anywhere except to do it once on my western balcony. Never again - as she is loud and likes to scream my name. I didn't mind that, but I didn't want to bother the neighbors in my apartment or those in the houses across the street.

While I was eventually forced to have her kidnapped (all true) and sent back to her parent's home for some treatment or whatever it was that they did to her (really, I didn't sleep for weeks!), I came across her again about a month later on a trip to her school for some JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme event about blah-blah-blah.

After ditching the conference and screwing our brains out in an empty classroom, she casually told me she had a boyfriend, so she couldn't see me as often as she had before.

Hallelujah! Or, was that disappointment? I had just helped her cheat on her boyfriend...but it's okay because I didn't know she had a boyfriend.

But when she pushed me aside to continue with her life as a student and girlfriend to someone else... I knew she was better. emotionally. She's come over to Ohtawara-shi twice in the past couple of months - this evening being the second time. Okay... now I know she still has a boyfriend and I don't care. That's okay, isn't it? I'm not cheating... she is.

The sex is fantastic as usual for its unusualness. I should write a manual.

But if Junko is not in stalker mode... then she's fine, right? 
 
Right. I want her for my girlfriend.

I'm tired of all this secret-girlfriend crap. Can't we just be a couple and actually go out in public as such for once?

Do I dare tell her that?

Now?

We just had sex... but I'm afraid the blood isn't back up to the top brain yet. It's still pumping blood to my other thinking device.

Sweating profusely and gasping for breath, I partially untie her, grab a hold of a breast and her butt and pull her closer to my slick hairy torso and say:

"Junko... we have to talk..."

Somewhere timing is everything,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Guns N' Roses and was filmed in Tokyo at the Tokyo Dome in 1992. And... just so you know... I did see this show: