of douchbags, mice and polynesian sex - part 2
Now, the story in Part 1 may make one feel a tad “squicky” - (I’m taking that to be a merging of squirmy and icky), and one could well want to lament the poor state of dating form around at the moment.
This week I’ve heard a number of stories from friends and their recent encounters with “men”, veering from the pretty horrible, to the sad, to quite heart-warming. Whilst messaging my friend jennarose on facefook the other day she wrote this little ditty to me:
“UGH, whinge-baggyness: I went out to dinner with an actual man tonight.
We had a lovely conversation, shared delightful food at my favorite wine bar,
and at the end of the night, we drove back to his place....
where I dropped him off and there was no kissing because it was Greg.
Who is the only single dude I know.”
It was also Kate who told me two tales - one of awful, sub-human inbreds insulting her and her friends; and another of a perfectly angelic encounter, both in the same night.
Now, much as I profess to be a hater of Disney and the other terrible bullshit that girls are brought up by society to believe in, I am actually a bit of a Romantic (blame my parents - I do). I am actually pretty certain that there’s someone out there for most people. How you actually locate them amongst all the human dross is a problem no one has the answer to.
To help make you feel better, I will tell you a story about something else that happened to me yesterday.
I met up with a saxophone player friend of mine, who I have known for quite a while, but haven’t seen since last Halloween. We keep inviting each other out to parties and gigs, but for reasons of money and work one or the other of us can never make it. So we agreed to hang out yesterday. My favourite thing about this guy has always been how bubbly and flirty he is. In addition, I once forgot that he didn’t speak any English, because I find speaking to him in Japanese so easy that it doesn’t register as an exercise in translation.
I met him at Hachiko, to find that he’d scrubbed himself up quite nicely, and was donning a very cool pair of sunglasses. We greeted each other, as always, with a big hug and then took off to find coffee/beer. As we stood at the Shibuya crossing he very casually slipped his arm around mine and that pretty much set the tone of the whole evening.
So, we found a dimly lit wine bar and chatted for a bit, and then went out to find some food. We actually ended up in The Hub as he had a hankering for ‘fish and chips’. I usually despise the Hub, but on this occasion it was a pretty good choice. The place is always heaving with people, so it's easy to get lost amongst the throng, and no one can hear your conversation. The sheer volume of the place also forces you to be virtually talking in each other’s ears.
Anyway, I had a lovely evening with a lovely guy, who held my hand all the way back to Shibuya station and saw me to my train. I know, it all sounds a little high school, doesn’t it - holding hands? But believe me, I can only recall the last time someone held my hand because it was such an out of the ordinary thing. However, I should point out right now that despite the fact that he’s lovely and holds my hand, he is not, repeat NOT my boyfriend and won’t be. Sad eh?
So, there was the mouse thing and the Polynesian sex thing wasn’t there? Sex first.
As you do when you’re both not really too reserved about the subject of “doing it” (there may a cascade of euphemisms ahead - gird your loins), we got onto the subject of “poking hay” whilst out last night and I was told about “Polynesian Sex” (ポリネシアンセックス）、which appears to have been all the rage in Japan at some point - a bit like Billy’s Boot Camp and the Banana Diet, I suspect. As far as I can tell so far, it seems to be along similar lines to Tantric sex, in that it promotes a much more mindful, meditative approach to the whole “banging” situation (that word says it all) which is most prevalent in Western society. Damn you Christianity for another thing you probably got rid of when you wiped out all those ancient European cultures!
I have a habit of picking up books about "making the beast with two backs" from other people. My mum bought me a very cool book on religious signs and symbols when I was a teenager, which contained a very interesting snippet on Tantric sex. Then for my 18th birthday a couple of guys at school bought me a copy of the Kama Sutra (it was the £1 Penguin edition, the cheapskates). A few years later a customer at the bookshop in Slough sang the praises of a book whose name and author I have forgotten. I have a very clear picture of the author - a very glamorous-looking blonde woman who was a sociologist, her name something along the lines of “Shea Hait” or something like that. I located a copy of the book in Uxbridge library and found it to be quite interesting. So, I guess I’ll give this book a whirl. It was even recommended by someone on Amazon who appears to be a celibate monk-type, so if he can read it, I’m pretty certain I can.
Interestingly, Prince has just popped up on iTunes singing “Sexy MF”. I think my computer is sentient.
Oh, and the mouse. On the way home on Wednesday night I was forced to come to a standstill when a little mousey caught my eye in the bushes on the way home. We were on a main street, so he took me by surprise. After a few seconds, I decided to keep walking, as it appears did he, because he decided to run into my foot, and took a bit of a skid across the pavement before hurtling towards the doors of a nearby restaurant! I was agog, and so was the guy down the road watching me looking from my foot to the mouse, to my foot to the mouse…
This week I’ve heard a number of stories from friends and their recent encounters with “men”, veering from the pretty horrible, to the sad, to quite heart-warming. Whilst messaging my friend jennarose on facefook the other day she wrote this little ditty to me:
“UGH, whinge-baggyness: I went out to dinner with an actual man tonight.
We had a lovely conversation, shared delightful food at my favorite wine bar,
and at the end of the night, we drove back to his place....
where I dropped him off and there was no kissing because it was Greg.
Who is the only single dude I know.”
It was also Kate who told me two tales - one of awful, sub-human inbreds insulting her and her friends; and another of a perfectly angelic encounter, both in the same night.
Now, much as I profess to be a hater of Disney and the other terrible bullshit that girls are brought up by society to believe in, I am actually a bit of a Romantic (blame my parents - I do). I am actually pretty certain that there’s someone out there for most people. How you actually locate them amongst all the human dross is a problem no one has the answer to.
To help make you feel better, I will tell you a story about something else that happened to me yesterday.
I met up with a saxophone player friend of mine, who I have known for quite a while, but haven’t seen since last Halloween. We keep inviting each other out to parties and gigs, but for reasons of money and work one or the other of us can never make it. So we agreed to hang out yesterday. My favourite thing about this guy has always been how bubbly and flirty he is. In addition, I once forgot that he didn’t speak any English, because I find speaking to him in Japanese so easy that it doesn’t register as an exercise in translation.
I met him at Hachiko, to find that he’d scrubbed himself up quite nicely, and was donning a very cool pair of sunglasses. We greeted each other, as always, with a big hug and then took off to find coffee/beer. As we stood at the Shibuya crossing he very casually slipped his arm around mine and that pretty much set the tone of the whole evening.
So, we found a dimly lit wine bar and chatted for a bit, and then went out to find some food. We actually ended up in The Hub as he had a hankering for ‘fish and chips’. I usually despise the Hub, but on this occasion it was a pretty good choice. The place is always heaving with people, so it's easy to get lost amongst the throng, and no one can hear your conversation. The sheer volume of the place also forces you to be virtually talking in each other’s ears.
Anyway, I had a lovely evening with a lovely guy, who held my hand all the way back to Shibuya station and saw me to my train. I know, it all sounds a little high school, doesn’t it - holding hands? But believe me, I can only recall the last time someone held my hand because it was such an out of the ordinary thing. However, I should point out right now that despite the fact that he’s lovely and holds my hand, he is not, repeat NOT my boyfriend and won’t be. Sad eh?
So, there was the mouse thing and the Polynesian sex thing wasn’t there? Sex first.
As you do when you’re both not really too reserved about the subject of “doing it” (there may a cascade of euphemisms ahead - gird your loins), we got onto the subject of “poking hay” whilst out last night and I was told about “Polynesian Sex” (ポリネシアンセックス）、which appears to have been all the rage in Japan at some point - a bit like Billy’s Boot Camp and the Banana Diet, I suspect. As far as I can tell so far, it seems to be along similar lines to Tantric sex, in that it promotes a much more mindful, meditative approach to the whole “banging” situation (that word says it all) which is most prevalent in Western society. Damn you Christianity for another thing you probably got rid of when you wiped out all those ancient European cultures!
I have a habit of picking up books about "making the beast with two backs" from other people. My mum bought me a very cool book on religious signs and symbols when I was a teenager, which contained a very interesting snippet on Tantric sex. Then for my 18th birthday a couple of guys at school bought me a copy of the Kama Sutra (it was the £1 Penguin edition, the cheapskates). A few years later a customer at the bookshop in Slough sang the praises of a book whose name and author I have forgotten. I have a very clear picture of the author - a very glamorous-looking blonde woman who was a sociologist, her name something along the lines of “Shea Hait” or something like that. I located a copy of the book in Uxbridge library and found it to be quite interesting. So, I guess I’ll give this book a whirl. It was even recommended by someone on Amazon who appears to be a celibate monk-type, so if he can read it, I’m pretty certain I can.
Interestingly, Prince has just popped up on iTunes singing “Sexy MF”. I think my computer is sentient.
Oh, and the mouse. On the way home on Wednesday night I was forced to come to a standstill when a little mousey caught my eye in the bushes on the way home. We were on a main street, so he took me by surprise. After a few seconds, I decided to keep walking, as it appears did he, because he decided to run into my foot, and took a bit of a skid across the pavement before hurtling towards the doors of a nearby restaurant! I was agog, and so was the guy down the road watching me looking from my foot to the mouse, to my foot to the mouse…