No I am not quoting a British guy who got rejected after trying to nampa some Japanese girl. On my way to my kitsuke class today a bird shat on me. As I relayed it to the beau, the Japanese birdie looked down, saw my white ass and decided to shit on the foreigner. I guess I have been letting my conspiracy theory get the better of me if I am now widening it to include flying animals. At least in Japan they believe that getting shat on is good luck too or I would be getting both ends of the shit stick.
Truly not the best way to start my week after such a relaxing weekend but if the Canadian dollar stays down and Roses stop calling me everyday, I will know the tide has turned. In fact, I do have Roses to thank for one thing: after reading his inspired date list I decided to create a painfully typical 24-hour date for the beau and I, beginning on Sunday. Yokohama. The fresh sea breeze, the giant ferris wheel, the stuff of dating dreams for young Japanese people. I find the longer I am in Tokyo, the more prone I am to spend ridiculous amounts of money doing stuff. I get this "it will be mine" mentality and I don't stop until I have the hotel room, or the concert tickets or the restaurant reservation, no matter the price. And I usually plan things not so far in advance so once I find that the cheap option I was going for is no longer available, I ruthlessly pick my way up the price ladder until something available comes along, all the while convincing myself that is is totally normal to go out for a 30,000 yen dinner or to spend a night at an onsen ryokan for 100,000 yen.
So for this ridiculous weekend, we stayed on one of the upper floors of the hotel at the top of the Landmark Building, AKA best fucking view ever, and ate room service and drank champagne while laughing at the peons below. The following day we went to Chinatown for a yum cha lunch that was dumpalicious and divine and then spent the rest of the day at Hakkeijima Sea Paradise, strolling around with all the other smug couples and taking in the marine life. If that wasn't enough we ended up in Azabu Juban on the way home and found a yakiniku place where the meat literally melts in your mouth. I know that sounds totally nasty and wrong and I've probably plagiarized the M&Ms slogan, but you've got to trust me on this one. Grilled pieces of meat that melt in your mouth is a very good thing. To cap it all off we drank ourselves silly at Prego nearby, and when our bartender friend finished work in Roppongi, our evening turned into a mini double-date with him and his girlfriend and their wee dog.
All in all a very fun and expensive weekend. I don't know what it is about Japan, but dating has truly become a science here. Never have I heard more people talking so enthusiastically about date spots or asking other people for dating ideas. There are magazines and TV shows that give people dating itineraries down to the minute, with accompanying "insider tips" that aren't so insider when literally a million other people are doing the same thing. It all feels like part of some big show. After mocking the people lined up for restaurants in Chinatown and the people taking pictures of sea animals in their tanks (I mean really, this topic has been over-discussed but who looks at blurry keitai pictures of jellyfish and "cute" crabs the next day?!), I don't know if I can manage to not feel like a cheese when on a date here in Tokyo. I suppose if the beau cooked something up I could genuinely ooh and ahh but seeing other couples snuggling on benches and looking forlornly out to sea at Hakkeijima just made me feel like they had been taught to do that somewhere. Am I a cynic? No matter what I say, I can't be too much of one after enjoying my epic date this weekend, even if it was by the book.