Love and Relationships: Finding Love or Having Good Sex

Finding love or having good sex…In Japan

In a ‘normal’ country, one can either choose to search whole-heartedly for love (and leave sex for later) or decide to show ‘true love’ his/her middle fingers and just go straight for the good old sex. Note – in a ‘normal’ country. When I say ‘normal’, persons who live in Japan know what I mean. I am not saying that Japan is abnormal. I would never dear say that, my mother raised me better *big grin, looks around with a guilty smile*. But let’s just say that Japan is ‘special’…very ‘SPECIAL’. Where else in the world is finding a flying pig easier than finding love; and exporting your sex life (only able to have any good sex while on vacation in another country) is the order of the day? OK! Now, you get it!

On some level, I believe that everybody wants to find love (wherever it’s hiding its ugly ass). One may, from time to time, indulge in a little ‘good sex’ campaign but deep down the ultimate goal is to find ‘The One’. Well, that was my thought when I first came on the Banana Boat from Jamaica to this planet, Japan. I was eager, bushy tailed and bright-eyed. I was thirsty for some Asian meat and started looking for a nice ‘pork chop’ to devour. So, I did what any respectful up-standing citizen of the LGBTIQA community would do. I hit the internet to see what’s out there; I scouted out my community and work place and the small expat groupings I knew of. I crossed out the expat group very soon afterwards, not that there wasn’t any ‘meat’, but none that I was THEN looking for. I was fresh off the boat and wanted ASIAN meat! American and Canadian ‘cuisines’: been there, done that!  So, naturally the next stop on the train would be to see what ‘cuisine’ my co-workers were serving up, IF ANY! Well, I boarded the train and exited at ‘co-worker central’. Big disappointment! Talk about closet-cases and denial. It was a case of fantasy, intrigue and novelty at first; followed by reality shock and mixed signals on their part. These Japanese civil service men were a special breed only found in Asia. They were only gay on certain days of the week and at certain times of the month. It was like they were on a ‘cycle’ (pun intended). Seen that I get dizzy easily, I figured these guys’ crazy cycles and I weren’t going to match too well. I soon served them their ‘walking papers’.

Then, when all else had failed, I thought to myself there is no way in hell the internet is going to let me down (Forgive me, I was still thinking as an Earthling). Being a Jamaican in Japan, a certain degree of ‘celebrity’ status results, and under the rainbow it’s even crazier. I don’t know what it is…maybe it’s the myth of ‘black men’, or some loud mouth leaked a story about Jamaicans, or they saw Asafa Powell’s picture (Oh lord… TESTIFY!!!!! Jeezz), but the Japanese go wild for the islanders. So, finding a date wasn’t the difficult part. The difficult part was maintaining some sort of friendship after 7 days.  It was so predictable that I developed a ‘7-day Theory’ that I passed on to my friends for testing. So said, so done!  These Japanese boys were so predictable that it would be fun just waiting for day 7 and for them to disappear. This is how it works: you would meet and they put you through the INTERVIEW PROCESS; have another date; maybe some sex (lolol)…and that’s it! Bam! They vanish into thin air, without a trace. At first I thought it was just me, but then I spoke with some other Jamaicans here (OK!! Now I have just out-ed all the Jamaicans here…LOLOLOLOL) and I realized we were all being SERVED, Honey B.

So, after trying the dating scene, there is only so much one can take and no more (and this rule goes for other things too…LOLOL). So, like so many who have trodden this rocky road in their Gucci loafers before, I had given up on finding love and soon started looking for ‘fun’ (bigger mistake). Needless to say, my search grew weary; my patience faded and my frustration rose. Being Jamaican, one is accustomed to big chunks of meat that when served right makes any mouth salivate. Well, I am no different. I am 100% Jamaican, and I love dining at a well spread table with delicious pork chops, beef steaks and mouth watering sausages. Well, coming to Japan I didn’t expect to find Jamaican ‘cuisines’ (of course not), but I expected that the ‘meats’ on the market would be of a good quality and I would be able to ‘work wid it’ (as we would say in Jamaica). Well well well…I am no Jesus, so I don’t do miracles and I can’t turn water in wine; 5 loaves & 2 fishes into 12; and Japanese wieners into ‘Frankfurters’. The Japanese ‘cuisine’ came up short (pun intended) of what I expected. I am not a bitch (do not comment on this…LOLOL); I am not hard to please. But there is a difference between incompetence and inability. Needless to say that the Japanese ‘cuisines’ that I have come across (I am not going to count…) can’t ‘stop a gap’ (another phrase from home). And remember, I am not trying to be a bitch.

Keeping in mind that I am still not a bitch, there is an ongoing debate about ‘the size of a sausage vs. technique used (to jerk…I mean BBQ, said sausage)’. If you’re planning a fabulous BBQ in Jamaica and the person in charge of the sausage doesn’t bring a big one, rest assured that the BBQ technique used is of an international standard and very much ‘saaaattt out’ (we would say in Jamaica). So, with that background, silly me ventured out in Japan with all this in my head and again, my ‘Rights To Good Techniques’ were denied without prejudice!! It was like I entered the planet of small sausages and guys who can’t BBQ *frustrated look*.

OK! So, being a relationship-frustrated, sexually-deprived foreigner in Japan, what does one do? What are the options? You have two roads before you: make your choice. On one road, you can either settle for mediocre burgers on the grill and temporary relationships (where you are sure that your case number will turn up on ‘WITHOUT A TRACE’) or you could choose to export your sex-life! (It’s easier than it sounds and lots of fun…LOL…TESTIFY!!!!). I know which road I’m on. Where am I going for summer, again? *wink wink*