Woe is the gaijin in Japan. Pshaw... right.
A gaijin is a word used to denote an outsider… a foreigner… and for whatever reason, gaijin all over Japan seem to get upset when a Japanese person shouts the term out loud:
“Hora! Gaijin-da!”… or “Look! A gaijin!”
What’s the big deal… don’t like being pointed out you are different?
Some of us have that happen all the time…
Of course, I get it… why the heck are the Japanese so surprised when they see a gaijin?
We’re all over the damn place, and we’re sleeping with your women.
Maybe that “Hora! Gaijin-da!” is less shock and more of a grapevine warning for concerned fathers to lock-up their of-legal-age-daughters?
Granted… I am no longer 25-years-old with zero perspective on Japan, but back then, a simple guy who had never slept with a woman before in Canada now found himself inundated with Japanese women literally throwing themselves at me for free English lessons… which is actually a term for “free English lessons” as well as a means to an end for “sex”.
The two don’t go hand-in-hand, but it does really depend on the locale.
I spent a fair bit of my free evening time sitting quietly by myself in a local bar - a very classy bar called the 4C in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken. I don’t believe it exists anymore.
I did go to the place in my fist year in Japan… but usually with other gaijin, like my buddy Matthew and my girlfriend Ashley. But in year two… with Ash and I reduced to simply being friends with benefits (I know, I know… lucky girl)… well, when I wasn’t tying up Junko—the young woman who dropped out of university so she could follow me around like I was the Grateful Dead shuffling off to Buffalo.
Anyhow… I’d sit at a bar table with two stools… one for me, and one for whomever.
I didn’t have to wait long… but some local cutie would shyly come over and strike up a conversation. Like a yakuza boss, I’d grunt a smile and nod at the chair while slightly bowing offering a low rumble “dozo (please)”.
I don’t know if I have a type… but in Japan I was constantly hit on by dark-haired women with brown eyes… Asian women… which is weird, because I don’t have a type… or if I do, it’s kind of the opposite.
They would strike up a conversation in slow English as though I didn’t understand the language… but I can assure you I can wrap my tongue around all the alphabets…
I would reply in equally slow English… just in case…
Sometimes the cutie really was looking for a free English lesson and a story to tell her friends that she just talked to a foreigner… no, not that sukebe tall one, but the tall, dark and very handsome one from Canada.
But… despite being virginal before arriving in Japan, I had approached double digits after my first year, and was well along the path of righteousness (I may be using that word incorrectly) in my second and third years.
Yes… a virgin… and not by choice… I’m pretty sure I made a lot of copies of Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler a lot heavier than when originally printed… but I am a university and college grad… a newspaper guy (a very well-respected occupation in Japan)… a pretty funny guy (also much admired in Japan)… had really long hair (a rebel, much admired by some and shunned by older people)… always had a smile on my face (friendly… which is actually well-respected by all decent people on the planet)… and at the time in reasonably good shape. I also dressed in color, was taller than the average Japanese… and for whatever reason the women thought that I was open enough to approach.
Of the 30+ I slept with in Japan, I only ever asked out one women. Familiar readers know who that is.
So… the bar… yes… sometimes a casual chat is indeed a casual chat and yes, it ends up being a free English lesson.
Oh yeah… I’m an introvert pretending to be an extrovert, so being along at a semi-busy bar is fine by me. Alone, I tend to drink more… so that’s good for the bar… but providing a free English lesson… no big deal.
Except… it means no nookie for Andrew.
Then there’s the cutie who when she sits pulls the stool right close to me… smart and to the point. I know what type of English lesson she wants and play a different version of myself that is only slightly more aggressive with a hand on a hand, then on a thigh… a lean into whisper something in the ear: “ikimasho (let’s go)” and gulp my drink as I lead her by the hand back to my place.
But that was easy and only happened once or twice.
Usually the cutie sits opposite me… and the slow English game is afoot.
As a virgin, sometimes you can only masturbate so much… sometimes you actually read the articles with two hands.
As such, I’ve enjoyed many an article in Playboy and Penthouse… and learned all about signs women drop to indicate that they are into you.
I’m not going to detail that stuff here, except for the classic hair play.
A nervous little thing such as playing with her hair can be an indicator that she likes you… and now you have two plays… to let her know that you like her by being a bit more forward or by slowly playing the game…
The first way can spook her, or it may just be what she wants… sometimes people don’t care and immediately go for this route… but the key is truly to learn more about who you are with.
Sometimes a smiling question of “why did you come and talk to me?” You can even pantomime this question and she’ll know what you mean. I can… I assume you can, too.
A shy drop of the head, play with the hair, the biting of a lip (hers, not yours… if she’s biting your lip, proceed directly to Go), a smile… or anything more forward, and you know things are going well enough to be more forward.
But if you receive a vacant vapid stare… and a wakanai (I don’t know), it was a sexual hair twirl, it was a nervous what am I doing her hair twirl.
I’m no MMM, the sexsmith guru who used to write the How To Survive Women blog I used to showcase here occasionally… he stopped writing that a couple of years ago… but Mister Manfred Mann did seem to get around as much as I did… or did he?
He never actually talked much about his own sexploits.
Anyhow… I’m no sexpert… certainly not any more… if I ever was. But if I actually told you who I dated (based on profession), you’d might suppose I had some expertise.
I can only provide advice based on what worked for me.
Of course, the Japan of 2017 is certainly different from the turn of the century Japan.
It is said that young Japanese men and women aren’t interested in sex.
While the numbers and skewed media certainly seems to back up that contention, it’s not as bad as people think.
I bet if I went into a Japanese bar right effing now and pointed to a person and asked: Do you like sex?
They would say yes.
Now... I'm a guy with a big booming voice... but to be fair, I ain't no living version of Michelangelo's David, either.
Point to another… they would say yes… I’d say I like sex, too! That would get a giggle and and a rise.
Be fair… ask a man, hey - do you like sex? He’d scream yes. High five!
You aren't asking him to have sex with you... you are asking if he likes sex.
This is you being the life of the party.
Ask another guy - same thing!
I bet that there would be one or two who would say they don’t like sex… but out of 40 people in a bar, I would bet 38 would say they like sex.
Even supposing the gender numbers are equal, we have 19 women and 19 men. I’m not into the guys, so 19 women. Assume three… heck… assume said they don’t like sex… that leaves you with 13 women who said they do.
You only need one—two if you want to feel unnecessary for an hour—so 1:13. Odds such, right?
Nope… you already know they all like sex… know you just have to figure out who likes it enough to want to have it with you.
By the way… you can’t be yelling out “Who likes sex?” at just any place. I wouldn’t have done that at the 4C… it was a classy little place… but at the Java Jive in Roppongi - yeah! Certainly not at a Denny’s… use your brain before you get inebriated.
Now… I did not spend all my evenings in Japan going to bars and being picked up by women. Weekends, sure… curfews are later for the women.
I certainly never attempted a “Do you like sex?” shouted questionnaire in a bar. But I figure… WTF do you have to lose?
I have no idea why everyone is effin’ coy about things. Why are you at the bar? Have drinks with your friends? Okay. To meet someone and get married? Okay - but at a bar? To meet someone and have some safe fun for the evening - okay.
Yes, there are safety concerns… who’s a freak… who’s a murderer… who likes Justin Bieber… condoms, STDs… this is where common sense comes into play…
I can only get you to the front door with the door open a crack.
Letting people in, or choosing to go in is up to the individual.
I was, quite literally letting my hair down in the 1990s… a 10-year run… and I sometimes wonder why I am alive, incident-free and sexually healthy. Condoms. Not 100% effective, but I liked the odds.
My point is, free English lessons can be sought out from you, or they can be offered.
This blog was inspired in part by an old article in The Rising Wasabi, a satirical look at Japan and its news.
The article can be found HERE.
I commented to reader Vincent that it’s funny because it was true… and it was.
Being a (male) gaijin in Japan is an advantage when it comes to seeking the attention of the opposite sex. Even in 2017.
My simple ploy above will prove that.