Politely Defusing Rieko's Passion, (Part II)
I looked at Rieko, chuckling. Yes, she knew exactly what I'd been hinting at.
"But seriously, do I believe in a 'Brave New 1984' situation where men are an oppressed class much in the same way that so many Americans seem to think that women are an oppressed class? No I do not." I ran my fingers through my hair. "Both ideas are unbalanced and crackpot." I drank the last of my coffee before continuing. "So, no. I don't believe the world is as one-sided as either interpretation would suggest."
"So what do you think is the right way to describe things the relations between men and women?"
"You mean the right assumptions one should have when approaching gender issues?" I asked.
"Right." She nodded.
"Perhaps the most plausible assumption is that over a period of tens of millennia, each sex had a long time to evolve ways of managing the other in order to exist in a rough equilibrium. What limited one sex was roughly balanced by what limited the other. Isn't that the most likely conclusion to reach? It would be highly surprising if that weren't the case, you know? But about thirty-five years ago, a bunch of mainly white female activists discovered that if they claimed 'oppression' loud enough and long enough, they could get something for nothing." I spread-out my hands. "You see, the weaker that women claim to be, then the more goodies that they are owed. And women can't shed any of their old privileges if they say they don't have any privileges to relinquish. By pretending to be suffering, they could mobilize left-wing guilt and right-wing chivalry and get extra protections and subsidies and the ability to act with virtual impunity. Ostensibly they did this to make life as good for women as they envision it being for men, or as good as they envision it being for the most elite men anyway. Since all the Presidents have been men, via feminist logic, then all men must have been Presidents. So they started playing this victimhood record thirty-five years ago, they kept playing it over and over and they haven't stopped playing it since. Look, an ideology is not an explanation of human affairs. It is a substitute for an explanation of human affairs. Any ideology serves the purpose of stopping you from thinking too much. An ideology is a world view that cannot be proven wrong because the only evidence it ever accepts is evidence which proves it to be true. You see society a certain way, and pretty soon you only see it that way and you blind yourself to the stuff which contradicts it. This is one of the reasons I can't deal with American chicks anymore, Rieko. Their view of the world is totally distorted and one-sided and sexist because of the broken record of 'I am victim, I am innocent, equal standards don't apply to me' which has been playing over and over for the last few decades. And this interpretation of the world has corrupted the parts of the knowledge-base from which the social sciences get derived."
"But sexism can affect both sexes. It's obvious."
"Yes, it's obvious to any rational person. But do you remember what I said about the special definition of 'sexism' in the English-speaking world? Male abuses of power get condemned but female abuses get ignored, rationalized or praised. We end-up criminalizing the male harasser but we shrug-off the female who uses her sex-appeal to get ahead. Hurting a woman's feelings is more severe than, say, physically injuring a man. Women are oppressed even though the oppressed class somehow manages to consume more luxury goods than the oppressor class. That's a really miraculous type of oppression, eh? God forbid that I should ever become so horribly oppressed that my oppressors give me jewels and fur coats. Somehow, a group which comprises more than half of the voting population claims to be a powerless minority." I scoffed. "Anyway, it's crazy, Rieko. The whole thing is so transparently self-serving, you can't not become cynical about it." I paused. "Did you ever wear a uniform in school?"
"Yes I did. In middle school and in high school. Everyone does."
"I went to this really ass-clenched private high school. Usually American schools don't have uniforms, but mine had a fairly rigid dress code. Rigid for boys, at least. We had to wear ties and dress shoes and so on. But girls? They could basically wear anything they wanted. No jeans or sneakers, that was the only rule for them. They could wear almost anything but they absolutely hated that they couldn't wear jeans. Oh, that's so unfair, isn't it? Oh, the princesses are so oppressed. They couldn't wear jeans. The poor, poor pumpkins. God forbid that the princesses be treated like serfs." I stuck my finger down my throat and pretended to gag. "Of course the boys didn't like this arrangement either, but if we complained no accommodations would ever be made. Of course not. It was useless to even bring-up the topic and all of us knew it. We'd be told to shut-up and stop whining. But one year there was a proposal to give the girls uniforms. The girls hated that idea. Absolutely, totally hated it. Something like 98% of them opposed it. Unsurprisingly, the proposal was killed almost immediately. But the girls were just sooooo oppressed because they couldn't wear jeans! Oh calamity!" I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, you see how that works? Strict standards for boys, slack standards for girls. The girls have choices but the boys have duties. And the girls are oppressed no matter how disproportionate that claim starts to become. It's a formula which gets replicated in a million different variations. And American women are so inured to it that they can look these types of situations right in the face and see no sexism at all. But they'll freak-out if you dare to suggest that a woman won't make a good astronaut. It's nuts."
"It sounds hard to believe."
"I know! As I said, feminists have an extremely profound contempt for equality. Only a feminist can say how much equality is 'enough' equality, you know. But feminists have given the term 'equality' a distorted meaning. And the purpose of this distortion is quite clear: to wage ideological warfare. In reality, feminists hate the types of equality which would cause a woman to not win."
"So they're liars."
"No, they don't think they are liars, but there are a huge number of dishonest researchers among them who have an incentive to manufacture or hallucinate proof of oppression. For instance, feminists tend to concentrate a lot on 19th century literature to prove the historical subordination of women. But one of the characteristics of literature from that time is that the gender roles are extremely rigid and black and white. If you were to look at other periods of English literature it's not quite the same. Lady MacBeth wasn't exactly a delicate little flower, you know. So that's the scholarship that they have. They always change the rules to make women look oppressed or morally superior in some way. Of course, scholarship like that is selective, disingenuous and self-serving but it gets taken very, very seriously in academic circles. Anyway, feminists are sincere in their beliefs but they have a very elaborate set of delusions. They really, really believe that they're after equality, but it's actually Ekwalitee that they want although they'll never realize it. You can establish this pretty quickly if you are willing to apply the same criteria that feminists brandish against men. It's really very simple."
"Like how?"
"Okay, at one point in the past, feminists insisted on gender-neutral language for describing domestic roles. Generally, they claim they're for equal parenting. But go ahead and ask them: should fathers be awarded equal child custody? Nope. Why? Are fathers equally important as mothers? Nope. Mom's are of overwhelming importance, but fathers aren't necessary at all. The father makes no real contributions to raising children except for money. Yeah, mom needs to have lots and lots o' dad's money but that's all he's good for. So right off the bat they don't believe that fathers provide anything of value apart from money and that mothers ought to be held in higher esteem. When feminists say they believe in equal parenting, they mean that dad ought to get-off his lazy ass and cook. 'Equal parenting' never involves giving fathers equal child custody. 'Equal parenting' never involves enforcing the father's child visitation rights. 'Equal parenting' never involves acknowledging how men face discrimination at work if they try to structure their careers around family life. 'Equal parenting' also doesn't involve attacking harmful stereotypes which portray men as abusive and incompetent parents because feminists find those stereotypes to be handy whenever they rationalize why men shouldn't be equal parents. So feminists hate what true equal parenting would require. Would you like to know how feminist journals refer to fathers' rights?"
"How?"
"They say: so-called "fathers' rights". So-called. And they always put fathers' rights in scare quotes as if the whole concept has no legitimate basis whatsoever. Fathers ought not to have any rights to their kids whatsoever. Feminists suddenly don't want equal parenting when there's a question of how a father can have access to his kids."
"I see."
"There are plenty of other examples. Although they may deny the following: they do not regard a man's life as having equal worth. Do they think that a man's shorter life-span ought to be treated as a serious public health issue? Nope. It's bad genes, men are stupid and they ought to be responsible for their own health, blah blah blah. Okay, so how about men's greater death rate from suicide? Same thing: bad genes, men's fault. The important focus ought to be that women's suicide attempt rates are higher. But wait, is that bad genes? Nope, more proof of oppression, men's fault again." I scoffed. "If there were to be any objective assessment as to why maleness is linked to higher incidence of injury and death, then the conclusions might suggest that women don't have a monopoly on suffering and we can't let people get that notion, can we?" I shrugged. "Okay, a feminist will say that society pressures girls into being thin and beautiful and this victimizes them by causing eating disorders. But if a male athlete thinks he ought to take steroids to perform better, is he being victimized by similar social pressures? No, he's a vain idiot who is driven by his male ego. But if a female athlete takes steroids, is she an ego-driven idiot? No, she's forced to do it because she's oppressed. Feminists hate equality in health issues and hate using equal standards to prioritize or solve the health issues. See how this works so far?"
Rieko nodded.
"You understand this. Good. You're sane!"
"Of course I understand this!" She laughed.
"Well, American chicks don't seem to understand. Okay, so what about statutory rape? When an adult man has sex with an underage girl, he's a sicko monster. But when an adult woman has sex with an underage boy, she's trying to fill an emotional void and we ought to feel sorry for her. I've met women of average intelligence in China who have noticed that double-standard in American society on their own, but American feminists, who are supposedly so well-educated and sharp, manage to miss it." I rolled my eyes. "And then, there's the issue of reproductive rights. A woman ought to have control over whether or not she reproduces. But the father is responisble for providing money if the woman wants to have the kid. So the woman chooses what happens, but the father is responisble for paying for what happens. Got that? A woman controls what happens to her own body, but the father is held accountable for what the mother decides to do and the mother automatically gets custody. Yeah, that's fair. No equality allowed. Okay, so what about gender portrayals in the media? Feminists decry the negative portrayal of women on TV, but they don't care if the vast majority of deaths on TV in movies and in video games are men. Apparently, females' psyches get warped by bimbo characters but men's psyches are unaffected by images of men getting slaughtered. Furthermore, TV images of men hitting or sexually humiliating women are misogynistic, but TV images of women hitting and sexually humiliating men are good fun. No equal standards allowed. Okay, what about criminal justice? Do feminists think that female murderers ought to be given an equal level of punishment? No, feminists try to make excuses for women who kill. They simply don't treat female violence against men with the same level of seriousness that they would give to a reversal. Okay, so feminists clearly don't care about equality in issues of criminal justice or violence. Are you getting all this so far? This is only the tip of the iceberg."
"It's crazy." Rieko nodded again.
"Yes, but there's plenty more! What about issues of work? Feminists favor affirmative action programs to help women get into male-dominated fields. Not coal-mining or welding or garbage collecting mind you, feminists don't care if men dominate those fields. Feminists complain about how perhaps 90% of CEOs are men, but they don't complain that 100% of garbage-collectors are men. Feminists don't want affirmative action for the dirty jobs but they demand it for the cushy jobs. And as for female-dominated fields like speech therapy and daycare services, should there be affirmative-action programs for men? Nope, no way, that would be unfair to the women in those jobs. So they hate the idea of having affirmative action systems applied equally. Feminists claim that society punishes women for succeeding, but they refuse to acknowledge how society punishes men for failing. Okay, so how about the military? Women join the military because they want to assert how brave and capable they are. Oh, that's good! But men join the military because they're violent and destructive by nature. And that's bad. What about issues of education? We are told that young girls need role models in order to succeed in education, but there's a severe lack of male primary school teachers. Does that mean boys' needs aren't being met? No, no, boys don't need role models. So feminists basically allege discrimination against girls within a female-controlled teaching environment. They look at girls' slightly lower SAT math scores and say 'discrimination'. They look at boys' much lower reading scores and say 'boys are stupid and slow to mature'. Can you believe some of this shit, Rieko? Some of these notions are so abysmal, they don't even deserve the honor of being called 'idiocy'!" I shook my head. "Okay, do feminists think that the eighty or so female colleges in the U.S. ought to be integrated to allow men? Nope. Women need their own special spaces but men-only colleges are sexist and exclusionary. Sororities are good, fraternities are bad and blah blah blah blah blah. The hypocrisy goes on and on like that endlessly. I know you can't believe this stuff, no sane person can. The amount of flip-floppery is so breathtaking, you simply don't know where to start. Feminists hate equality if it means that a woman won't get what she wants. It's extremely blatant favoritism: they love to see women win, they hate seeing a man win. They have such an extreme contempt for genuine equality that it makes you want to die laughing. They're chauvinists in denial. Through their actions, they say: 'we don't give a shit about anyone who lacks a vagina. You're unimportant, you're secondary.' If that ain't chauvinism, then nothing else is."
"It's really unfair."
"I know! There are simply too many examples of this to list. The core of their whole movement is a glaring affront to logic itself. The double-standards just are so egregious that we could sit here for a week and I could keep on coming up with more examples for you. Do you want another? In the mid-1970s, social scientists were convinced that alcoholism was primarily a male problem. They thought something like 90% of alcoholics were men. Can you guess the feminist explanation?"
"Bad genes?"
"You got it, bad genes. Or the stress of controlling the world turns men into drunks so they have to give-up some control and who will protect women from these drunks? Blah blah blah. All familiar sentiments by now. But in the mid-1980s, some preliminary studies started to appear suggesting that the number of female alcoholics had been underestimated. In response, a number of feminist scholars wrote articles which said stuff like: 'how dare you accuse women of having male deficiencies! Women don't have these male flaws!' and so on. With me so far?"
"Got it."
"But by the late 1980s, there were empirical studies which showed there was a real problem of alcoholism among women. Utterly incontrovertible evidence. The data had been missed in earlier studies because female alcoholics tend to hide the problem better and it was harder to measure. Drinking problems were indeed still worse among men, but men didn't nearly comprise nine-tenths of alcoholics, the ratio wasn't nearly as lopsided. So did feminists say that these women have bad genes? No, feminists charged that this was more proof of oppression. The patriarchy had been trying to hide this. Society had pushed suffering women underground and the suffering of women is so ignored. And by God, who will ever protect the women!? Who will protect them?!" I scoffed derisively. "So that's the party-line today: female alcoholics are oppressed. Twenty years ago, they claimed that female alcoholics didn't exist because women, you know, are too innocent and they have better genes and whatever. Do you see what the basic technique is? Either way, the complex problem of alcoholism is men's fault. Men are alcoholics, it's men's fault. Women are alcoholics, it's men's fault. Extend that technique to any social problem, and you'll have the feminist perspective. You'll always know who to blame." I rolled my eyes.
"So everything is men's fault."
"Basically. And the feminist perspective creates some really absurd arguments. Something like 38 million men have been drafted into the military in the whole of U.S. history, millions of whom got killed and permanently maimed. It was a system of military slavery for men only. But feminists say the historical lack of women in the military is proof that women have been oppressed. As if getting drafted is such fun and games. Feminists can watch a movie like Pearl Harbor or Saving Private Ryan where men are getting blown-apart left and right, but they will get outraged about how the female characters are nurses and typists. I mean, how nutty can you be? The whole perspective is whacked-out. And there's one feminist contradiction in particular which really baffles me..."
"What?"
"Feminists consider it a bad thing if a woman wants to have plastic surgery to make herself more attractive. They really frown upon it, and that in of itself isn't unusual. Tummy tucks are bad, liposuction is bad, boob jobs are bad, et cetera. Because society is oppressing women with images of unattainable beauty, Barbie's tits are too big, women are judged on their looks and they're so oppressed and blah blah blah. Okay? Got it?"
"Okay." She nodded.
"But here's the wierd part: what about a man who wants to undergo a series of operations to become a beautiful woman, eh? Well that is fine! Oh yes, he's overcoming a legitimate medical disorder and he'll be a better person if manages to become a 'she'." I rolled my eyes and chuckled sarcastically. "If a person chooses to alter their own body, I think it ought to be their prerogative to do so as long as they're aware of the consequences. But the feminist position on this issue seems more than a little anomalous when you consider the context. If a man wants to have plastic surgery to change into a good-looking woman, it's fine. If an actual woman wants to surgically change into a good-looking woman, it's bad." I laughed. "I think this has to be the only situation where a feminist would advocate that a woman not do something that a man is within his rights to do!" I shrugged, chuckling. "It makes the head spin, doesn't it?"
"What if a woman wants to have surgery to change into a man?" Rieko asked quizzically.
"Well, that is probably more proof of oppression." I laughed dryly. "Incidentally, I don't think there are too many accurate statistics out there about transsexuals. But almost all estimates out there agree that the ratio of male-to-female transsexuals is higher than the number of female-to-males. Estimates vary, but some suggest it's as high as three-to-one or even more. Now that phenomenon doesn't fit very well into the model of female oppression, does it? Why is it that members of the oppressor class want to get surgically changed into the oppressed class far more often than the reverse? Does that make any sense at all?" I shrugged. "But of course, a feminist would insist that it's bad genes. If you remember, they become hard-core Social Darwinists whenever a non-female has a problem."
"But why do some people want to change sexes?"
"Yeesh, I don't have an answer. There's probably some very complex interplay between a variety of physical and social factors but beyond that, science doesn't know very much. Anyone who claims to have a definite answer to that question is probably shitting you."
"Do you think Japan is sexist, too?" She suddenly asked me, looking intensely curious.
"Oh naturally! In some ways Japanese society is very sexist. I'm sure you would agree?"
"Of course."
"But you don't consider yourself to be oppressed, though."
"No I don't."
"It's good that you can see the difference. Well obviously, there are plenty of inequalities here. There are lots of legitimate problems, and Japanese feminists are actually quite sane about describing them. But if you were to ask an American woman about the status of women in Japan, she'll tell you how totally and utterly oppressed you are. Oh, God, your life is just full of such immense and grinding degradation. You're just so powerless and backwards." I playfully poked Rieko and she giggled. "But, do you know what she won't know?"
"What?"
"She won't know that mothers in Japan have traditionally been the ones to manage the family finances! They were the ones who controlled how the money gets spent in a household."
"Oh, right. That's what my mom always did."
"You go to any bank in Japan, and you'll see about twenty women standing in line and maybe two men."
"That's right."
"You grew-up in a fairly conservative area, right?"
"Yes, I did."
"And your mom decides how the family money will be spent, right?"
"Basically, that's correct."
"She goes to the bank? Your dad doesn't even really touch that money, does he?"
"Basically. She pays the bills and makes the decisions about what we buy and everything."
"The real power of money lies in spending it, not in earning it. If you earned a billion yen a year, how powerful would you be if you couldn't spend any of it?" I shrugged. "Your mom certainly doesn't sound powerless... does she do anything else?"
"She makes the insurance and investment decisions, too."
"Why, she's the Minister of Finance!" I smiled.
"Right!" Rieko smiled and laughed.
"She does it all. Why, hold on a second. It's a pretty strange form of oppression where the oppressed spends and manages money which was earned by her oppressor. And if she's going to be handling money and making investment decisions then that suggests a Japanese housewife has to have a brain too. Hmm, maybe she's not hopelessly powerless and ignorant? Oh but no. She's oppressed and exploited. She's got to be. She's held-back and held-down."
"No she's not."
"Your mom's not dying from overwork at some office, so she's a slave! Or that's what an American feminist would conclude, that's some cool logic there." I shrugged. "Seriously, the women back home would insist that your mom is powerless, pathetic and backwards."
"But my mom isn't powerless. No way."
"And dependent and meek and feeble and weak-minded and easily pushed-around..."
"Nooooo." She giggled.
"In fact, your mom is so terribly oppressed that she could spend an afternoon imprisoned and tortured in a coffee shop with the other oppressed housewives while their husbands are funning it up around the office. Isn't that a total disgrace?"
"Noooooooo!" She giggled again and shook her head.
"It seems crazy that I have to explain why your mom isn't powerless and feeble, but an American woman would refuse to believe it." I paused. "Do you know why I think so many Japanese women are so wonderful and so incredible?"
"Oh?" She looked flattered. "Why?"
"Many reasons. So many women here are intelligent and independent. Those are features that I find very attractive. Sure, American females claim to be tough and intelligent and independent, but it's more of a macho-wannabe crudeness that they have. Many Japanese women are, I think, very strong in many ways. But it is a subtle, refined and dignified type of strength instead of a raw, loud, angry, bloviating one. You see, in America, a strong woman proves her strength by bragging of how many people she's booted in the groin. Or by hurling her Gucci bag against the wall in public and cursing a blue streak. That's what a strong woman does in America because it's macho and spunky. Of course if a man were to behave in the same way, he'd be accused of being an asshole. Women in the U.S. can brag of how they can kick their boyfriend's asses, but they also never seem to notice that it's taboo for their boyfriends to ever hit back." I chuckled. "Anyway, but the best thing of all is that if I treat a Japanese woman like an equal, she'll typically act like one. It's great!"
"So, if you treat an American woman like an equal, she won't act like one?"
"Although she'll trick herself into believing as much, no. Can I give you another illustration?"
"What?"
"Remember the bit about the toilet seat?"
"Yeah." She nodded.
"I've had male roommates in the past and if I left the toilet seat-up and my roommate came to the bathroom to take a dump, did he get in my face about the seat position? No. And if the reverse took place, did I get in his face? No. And if I left the seat down, would he bug me for not leaving it up? No. We wouldn't bug each other about any combination of toilet seat positions. Why? Because we treated each other like equals! See? But when an American chick sees the toilet seat up, she'll spaz. She doesn't want to be treated like an equal when it comes to the toilet seat. Like any chauvinist, she wants her standards to prevail."
"That's hard to believe. Really, it is."
"Well it's true. I'm sorry to repeat myself, but do you realize how crazy that behavior is? Let's say that you're married and you use the family car. Every time you use the family car, your husband gets super-annoyed if you don't return the driver seat to his preferred position. He'll harangue you about it. Sometimes he'll drag you out to the car, point at the seat and snarl: 'What's wrong with you? Fix it! Fix it every time you use it!' et cetera. And he'll get with his friends and joke: 'My wife doesn't know the right position of the car seat, typical woman! Ha ha ha!' How would that make you feel?"
"I'd hate it."
"It would get tiresome pretty quick, wouldn't it?"
"Yes!"
"In that situation, your husband isn't being receptive to equal treatment. In fact, your husband would be a freakin' huge jerk for doing that. A real chauvinistic, domineering control freak."
"Oh yes."
"THAT'S HOW AMERICAN CHICKS ARE WITH THE TOILET SEAT!" I threw my hands in the air. "So American chicks don't want to be equals when it comes to things like that. They'll give you no slack at all because they want to be Queens of the Fugging Universe and their rules have to prevail all the way down to a microscopic level. But as I said, Japanese women won't freak-out over the toilet-seat like that. It's so awesome."
"I'm very flattered."
"I'm not trying to flatter you, it's the truth. You're receptive to being treated like an equal, but American chicks simply are not. As an experiment when I was in the U.S., I went-around for a few months not making an effort to hold doors open for women who needed help. They got real pissed. They sneered at me, but I replied 'you're an equal, right? You can open the door yourself.' That really pissed them off. I tell you, they hate what actual equality would require. And you know, in a few narrow ways I think Japanese society is actually less sexist than North American society."
"How?"
How Indeed?
"Less man-bashing! Yeah, it's a welcome relief. In the U.S., it's very common to watch females getting together and spouting-off some the most hate-filled, prejudicial bile you'll ever find outside a Klan rally. Bashing women is 'sexism' but bashing men is a 'liberating bonding experience', you see. And when they man-bash, some of it won't even be coherent. They'll say stuff like 'men are swine' one minute and 'men are afraid of commitment' the next. But why on earth would they want commitment from a swine? It makes no sense. They're just blurting-out irrational prejudice. Seriously. Ask the next American chick you meet about how inadequate men are. For four hours, she'll go down the whole checklist in her hot little head." I made a fist and shook it in mock outrage. "Rowrr! Rowrr!"
"Soo ka." She nodded.
"And if I were to interrupt their man-bashing sessions and say 'hey knock it off, that's sexist and you wouldn't tolerate similar remarks about women' they'd howl with derisive laughter. 'Take it like a maaayaaaaaan!' they'll screech. This relentless sexism of theirs is... it's... ugh... just so sodding ingrained into their heads that it's fixed in there permanently." I shook my head and sighed. "So anyway, yes, I really like the lack of man-bashing hypocrisy in Japan. The discourse on gender issues in general is less one-sided, less accusational and a lot more civilized. Relations between the sexes haven't exploded into an all-out war. It's so wonderful. I can really appreciate it. And in Taiwan, there's a similar feeling as well. I think part of it is because the Chinese word for feminism is 'nan-nü pingdengzhuyi' which literally translates into 'male-female equalism'. That's a great idea, isn't it? It's totally beyond the grasp of American chicks. Most Chinese-speaking women I've met don't have the adolescent assumption that 'equal rights for women' is the same as 'more rights for women'. The perspective is a hell of a lot more mature."
"I see." She nodded. "So what else is less sexist here?"
"Japan doesn't have a tradition of circumcising baby boys." I punched the word 'circumcision' into her dictionary. "You know that word?"
"Um... " She studied the term. "Oh wakatta! That's done in the Jewish religion, right?"
"Yes but it's also done a lot in the U.S., not only by Jews. And I've come-across some Jews who don't like the practice."
"No, we don't do that here." She wrinkled her nose and pointed to the kanji. She looked a little grossed-out by the idea. "I think a lot of Japanese don't even know what that word means."
"Probably. And circumcision is almost never performed in China either, the practice is virtually unknown there."
"Where did it come from?"
"The most popular story is that circumcision became widespread in the English-speaking world about two hundred years ago as a way of reducing masturbation. Because, as everyone knows, masturbation is the cause of social ills like... uh... maybe burglary or earthquakes or something." I chuckled. "But anyway, the original idea was quackery and the practice been largely discarded in a lot of industrial societies but it's remained one of the most common surgical procedures in the U.S. It's a total holdover from a bygone era, but it's still going on. We're hell-bent on doing it no matter what. It's done so often, it's not even considered surgery."
"Why is it done today?"
"The most common reason is that it's done to be sanitary. You know, so that the boy won't have to clean his foreskin. Isn't that nice? My life is just so super-duper-convenient because I don't have to clean my foreskin. I save many hours each day, such a great service has been done for me." I rolled my eyes. "Cleanliness is not what I could call a life or death reason. I mean, if your baby needs surgery to correct something significant, that's a no-brainer. If the baby has a heart problem or something like that, you do what you need to. But a foreskin isn't a deformity; it probably doesn't need to be amputated."
"So you were cut?" Her eyes widened.
"Yeah, I was." I nodded.
She clenched her eyes. "Scary."
"I guess I don't really have too big a problem with circumcision if it's done for religious reasons, but religion wasn't why it was done to me."
"Ittai?" Rieko asked, wondering if it hurt.
"Well, I was just an infant and I was under anesthetic, so I wouldn't remember." I smiled and shook my head. "But it's usually done without any anesthetic at all. A while back I asked my mom why it was done to me. I posed the question in a straightforward way, but she acted like I was crazy for asking it. Jeez, no big deal NiceGuy! I had part of your wang amputated! So what? What's the matter with that? Whackity-whack!" I made a karate-chop motion. "What's the matter with you? Why are you being so ridiculous? Heh. So then I asked her: would she submit her daughter to such a thing? She immediately exclaimed 'be a maaaayaaaan!' So there you go. There's something wrong with asking these questions. It really hits a nerve." I shrugged.
"Eiiii. Strange!" Rieko smiled and gently rubbed my shoulder with her palm.
"But I kept pressing her on this. She eventually conceded she had it done because there was a study back in the 50s which said that cervical cancer risk is reduced for women whose sex partners were circumcised. That study has since been debunked. Foreskins actually aren't carcinogenic, believe it or not. So mom made the decision based on quackery. I was cut in an attempt to protect a woman, because protecting women is all-important. Who could argue with that moral calculus? The integrity of my body is worth nothing compared to potentially protecting a woman in the distant future and I'm not a man for objecting to such a thing. This is how American women think, Rieko. These are the types of assumptions they make." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "But do you wanna know what's weird? Circumcision is never considered a type of genital mutilation." I punched the word 'mutilation' into her dictionary. "So if you amputate part of a boy's genitals, it's not genital mutilation. We shouldn't think twice about doing it."
"So it's become a tradition in your country."
"Yeah, but it doesn't mean that it's necessarily wonderful. Botched circumcisions happen every so often, you know. There have been infants who have been seriously injured or accidentally castrated because of accidents. It carries a risk of infection, scarring... And regardless of whether or not it's a tradition, it clearly is a form of genital mutilation isn't it? How is it not mutilation?"
"I think it sounds like a strange custom." Rieko nodded uneasily.
"Yeah, maybe it sounds cruel. But they're only boys! Tough Noogies. Compassion no longer applies when the infant lacks a vagina."
"And it sounds a little mean."
"Well, it's not being done sadistically. People just don't care. Like someone might cut a hedge or a bonsai tree or something. Snip-snip, no big deal. But do you want to know the most massively weirdest thing about this subject?" I nudged her. "This is a real howler, are you ready?"
"What?"
"A lot of women in the U.S. protest female genital mutilation in third world societies, but they don't care when it happens to their own sons. Isn't that pretty stunning? Female genital mutilation is considered a human rights abuse. We have laws against it, a woman can come to America and claim refugee status by saying she's escaping it. But it's not so bad for boys. Women deserve the right to have their oh-so-precious bodies kept intact, but a boy doesn't have the same right. Shouldn't the same right be given to both sexes?"
"But does it have any bad effects on the boy?"
"That's irrelevant."
"Why is it irrelevant?"
"Because it's a question of equal rights, it's not a question of medical statistics."
"But are there bad effects?"
"Utterly and totally irrelevant."
"But are there? I just want to know!" She was insistent.
"A bad effect? Apart from when the procedure gets screwed-up and the kid gets seriously injured? Apart from that, you mean?"
"I don't mean that."
"No one knows if there are long-term effects because no one has really bothered to study the question. Studying male health issues like that is simply not a priority because we have to protect the poor, ever-so-precious women." I paused. "And the fact that you'd ask such a question suggests another double-standard. Cutting a baby girl's genitals is bad. No doubts there. But when I suggest that circumcising a boy is bad, I suddenly have to meet the standards of particle physics or something? I suddenly own the burden of proving it's bad? If anything, I think you should prove it's not bad. And whether it causes measurable trauma to the boy is irrelevant anyway, it's an issue of human rights. The principle for women is: 'my body, my choice', remember? So if we want equal standards, shouldn't both sexes be allowed to decide whether or not they have their own bodies intact?" I asked.
"I would never do that to my baby anyway. The tradition seems unusual to me."
"So you do see a double-standard, right?"
"Yeah, it doesn't seem fair to me." She agreed. "I can see that, yes."
"Does it seem like a pretty obvious double-standard?" I asked.
"Now that you've explained it, yes I think it is." She nodded again.
"Of course it's obvious! If we were talking about circumcising baby girls, there would be no debate about whether cutting them hurts them or whether they have a right to their own damned bodies! It's a totally bald-faced double-standard, it isn't hard to spot at all. But an American chick refuses to see any double-standard whatsoever. Cutting girls is bad bad bad. Cutting boys? 'Yawn. Pass the broccoli?' It's such an incredible inconsistency, you wonder why smoke doesn't blast-out their ears from the cognitive dissonance!"
"So don't they care about children?"
"About boys, no. Girls are precious. God forbid that anyone be momentarily distracted from the protection of girls."
"That can't be true."
"It is true! By jiggedy, I've had arguments about this with FGM activists! They refuse to recognize boys' circumcision as being a type of genital mutilation. They don't see how that makes sense, even though it perfectly fits the definition of 'mutilation'. They find the idea laughable. They just obstinately refuse to see things otherwise. They invariably reply: 'It's worse for girls! FGM is castration!' And not incidentally, these same women think that castration is hilarious. They love castration, it's funny!" I sighed in frustration. "Cut a girl? Crime. Cut a woman? Crime. Cut a boy? Yawn. Cut a man? Hilarious! It's even more obvious than a double-standard: it's a triple-standard, but the most intelligent and well-educated American chick won't notice the slightest inconsistency at all. Isn't that pretty spectacular? They've got to be totally brainwashed or something."
"I don't believe that." She shook her head. "You can't be telling the truth."
"It's totally true! It's too crazy for me to make-up! The lack of equal standards is completely unhidden. Any Japanese could spot it because the contradiction reduces to absurdity in no time flat. A nine year old Japanese child could probably notice this, but the most intelligent American women can't! You need some heavy-duty sexism to not notice it. We're talking, like, some major-league viciousness to not see something which is so brazenly obvious. You have to struggle to keep a straight face to condemn FGM because it's like castration while simultaneously thinking that castration is hilarious. You... you really... you really have to be at the outermost fringes of fanaticism or something. It's... just... it... really... freaking..." I curled-up my fingers and shook my hands at the ceiling. "The word 'lunacy' doesn't adequately describe it. And if some study came-out showing an extremely weak correlation between circumcision and wife-beating, circumcision would be outlawed within a week. Oh yeah, totally. Cutting a boy is only significant to the extent that it might negatively impact on a female in some way. FGM activists would chant: 'cutting a boy hurts women!' and 'women are the real victims when you cut boys!' Seriously, that is how fanatical they are." I shrugged again and groaned. "Look, it doesn't take a lot of brains to notice the total sexism. It instantly becomes flipping obvious to virtually any neutral-party observer with half a brain and a faint desire to apply an equal standard. But the capacity for even considering these things has been totally driven-out of an American female's head. That's how sexist they are."
"I think I can see how you feel." She nodded.
"Do you now see why I think they're nutty? I was first made aware of the circumcision issue by the book 3001 by Arthur C. Clarke, by the way. The main character in the novel is an astronaut from 2001 who freezes in deep space and is thawed a thousand years later. The story is mainly about adjusting to life in the future. He has a lover but on their first night together, she sees that he's been circumcised. She immediately freaks-out and tells him that she doesn't want to have sex with someone who's been 'mutilated'. Because in the year 3001 people see circumcision in the same way that 21st century people would view witch-doctors or something. This really struck me. It was the first time I actually realized that maybe I didn't need to be cut. It was a functional piece of tissue that I lost for the sake of magically protecting a woman in the distant future." I shrugged. "But in Japan, you don't circumcise either girls or boys. I think that's more humane."
I'm An Equal, So Buy Me A House
"What else do you like about the women here? What else makes us less sexist?" She asked brightly.
"You paid for your own coffee!" I pointed my thumb at the counter. "You actually opened your purse and used your own money. What a step forward! American chicks act entitled to being bought things, but Japanese women pay half for dates. It's bloody fantastic! Seriously, do you know how big an advance that is?" I smiled. "It's way out in front of American chicks. They never want to pay for anything if a man is nearby. They hate the idea."
"What I did, that's nothing." She shrugged.
"Is it really nothing? Look, American chicks grow-up steeped in all sorts of entitlement fairy-tales. They all want to be Snow White or something. Prince Charming is going to ride-up and turn you into a princess. When you get married, hubby owes you a house. Barbie has a big ol' dream-house provided by handsome eunuch Ken, so that's what life is all about. American chicks are so constantly leveraging and collateralizing their femininity to get free stuff, it's sickening. And they fanatically deny doing this no matter how obvious it becomes. But you, on the other hand-- you paid for your own coffee. You attempt to act like an equal instead of resentfully spouting-off noble-sounding cant. Simply gorgeous of you."
"Ohh." She looked flattered. "Thank you. But a lot of Japanese women act like that, too." She corrected me. "They want men to buy them things."
"Yes that's very true, but the degree of accompanying hypocrisy is a lot lower among Japanese women. God, is it way, way lower! Most Japanese women appear to at least comprehend that you can't demand equal treatment while refusing to relinquish traditional female prerogatives. It's simply a logical impossibility and you can grasp that idea without much effort. But American women just don't get it. They want it both ways. They demand equal everything but they demand more options. They expect men to buy them things and they expect their future husbands to be rich. This is how advanced they are! How many years of feminism, and they still expect to marry a rich man!? I mean, come on! It's an outdated and backwards mentality, but they totally cling to it. They still act like it's 1952 or something. And they have so many lame excuses for this. 'Oh! Oh! I earn eighty cents on the dollar! Men earn more than me and I have no choice but to marry up!' Pathetic excuse. Unmarried women who are in the top 1% income bracket still try to marry up or they won't marry at all. Because if a man doesn't have a high-profile job with lots of money, then he's a loser. And a woman can't possibly marry a loser no matter how many millions she's got in the bank. An American woman has got to marry up up up, just like her grandmother did 60 years ago. Married professional American women expect their husbands to pick-up the check at dinner, too. That's how modern and up-to-date American women are!" I laughed. "They're so cutting edge and modern, they're making decisions just like grandma did. Hypocritical freeloading and backwardness together in one package, it's almost comical. They're totally behind the times and yet they claim they're more enlightened than men. The mentality is somewhere between childish and deranged!"
"Old habits die slowly." She shrugged.
"No it's not just old habits dying slowly. And this has nothing to do with men having 'all the power', even if that were true. Okay? Look, imagine if I were to go-out courting in the U.S. and I said to my date: 'I want to work at a labor of love and take care of the kids while you go-out and accumulate power and financially support me'. Imagine if I said that. She'd die laughing! You'd never get a second date with her. She'll demand it the other way around, even though it's supposedly oppressing her and depriving her of her place at the top. And women will constantly shift the blame for this sort of thing. They seem to be convinced that men are refusing to accept women who earn their own money, as if it's 1952 or something. 'Ooh, your eggshell ego can't accept a successful woman!' Yeah okay Miss Executive, but will you ever marry a poor man? Uhhh, no. They insist that men are uncomfortable with successful women but successful women are incredibly uncomfortable about marrying an unsuccessful man. The former is sexist but the latter is not." I scratched my cheek. "And the successful American females are often really truculent and in-your-face about their success, too. Positively spoiling for a fight about it. They're like: 'Whatsamatta, pig? Can't you accept a woman who earns her own money? Huh? Can't you accept a girl in your boys-only club? Huh? Huh? I'm an Ekwal! Deal with it, pig! Rowrrr!' and so on. Seriously, my sister is a doctor and she's like this. She'll go to a medical convention and she'll be wound-up like a coiled rattlesnake. 'Yeah! I'm a woman! And I'm a doctor! You got a problem with that, pig? Huh? Do ya?! Huh? I don't have a penis! Does that bug you? Huh? Does that bother you? Huh? Huh? Does that upset your male ego Doctor Big Maaayaaan?! Rowrr! Rowrrr!!' Sheesh. It's suddenly 1952 and she's hell-bent on fighting her way out."
"But it sounds like they're defensive, right?" She asked.
"No this goes beyond 'defensive', it's paranoid. They'll hallucinate sexism in places where it doesn't exist and they'll fly into rage over it. They are just so..." I had a funny thought and I began chuckling. "...so insane that... that..." And then I started laughing and clenching my eyes shut.
The Female-Only Time Machine
"What's so funny?"
"Well..." I stopped laughing and wiped a tear. "I- I have to give them some credit too." I cleared my throat. "American chicks have mastered the art of time-travel. They have invisible time machines, you know. They can move back and forth through the ages at will. It's 1952 if hubby can buy you a house. But do you see a dirty dish in the sink? Tah-dah! It's the 21st century where the men share the chores! Super-duper convenient!"
Rieko started laughing. I kept-on going.
"And when the bills arrive in the mail? Poof! 1952! And do those poopy diapers need changing? Poof! Back to the future! Do you have to kill household vermin? Whoosh! It's 1952 again! Uh-oh, does the toilet need scrubbing? Good news, there's a time-warp in the house for women only! Zoom! The clocks spin around and the calendar flips! And yeah, sure, maybe hubby is on the losing end of the equation, but that's Tough Noogies. It's uncouth for a husband to criticize his wife's time-travelling, that would be oppression."
Rieko was really laughing hard. She started waving her hands frantically, begging me to stop so she could catch her breath. I shut up as she huffed and puffed. After a few seconds, she put her hands up over her mouth to hide her smile. She was still trying to fight-back the laughter. After a few seconds of choking-back the giggles, she collapsed back in her chair. "Omoshiroii!" She wiped her eyes.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes!" She exhaled deeply and wiped her eyes
"You know what else is crazy? On top of this, a lot of American chicks'll complain about the 'unpaid labor' which is required of child-rearing, as if they actually think they ought to be paid for fulfilling parental obligations."
"What was that?" She raised an eyebrow. "They want to be paid for... being mothers?" She asked in half-disbelief.
"Well some of them do, yes. Or that's what they mutter angrily to themselves and each other. Not only paid for being mothers, but also paid for doing housework in general."
"Paid with money?!"
"Presumably with money. How else is the family going to compensate her? With love or something? That's silly. Love can't buy a diamond-studded dildo. My dad never said he ought to be paid for driving me to school, but mom seemed to behave as if I owed her 9 months of womb-rent." I chuckled and shrugged. "But never in Japan have I ever heard any woman say she ought to be paid for raising the kids she presumably wanted to have. It shouldn't be a surprise that child-rearing involves a bit of inconvenience, but American moms get so surprised by that. 'Oh God! Having kids requires me to make adjustments to my life! Oh, shock! Oh, horror!' It's not exactly a secret that having kids requires you to change your schedule. But American moms always seem to act totally blind-sided by it. As if the idea of being inconvenienced by your kids is a big shock."
"If they wanted to be married, why do they think they should be paid for the things they do in the marriage? And if they wanted kids, they why do they think they should be paid for raising them?"
"Yeah, it's not as if they can ever say 'no' to marriage proposals and control their pregnancies. Women don't have the ability to do either of those things, do they?" I harrumphed. "Look, Rieko, it's an empty complaint which reflects their entitlement mentality and it's calculated to guilt-trip people. You think it's weird because you're sane, and most American chicks simply aren't in the same league as you. They say over and over that cooking, laundry, keeping the house clean and so forth is 'unpaid labor' and they don't want to do any of that stuff because it's so meeeeeeeenial and so degraaaaaaading. Women are slaaaaayaaayaves and yet they're also the only people in the house who can say when the house is sufficiently clean. What the hell kind of slavery is it where only the slave can set the production targets? Go figure." I shrugged. "Raising kids is such a horrible, horrrrrrrible burden and yet they always demand custody of the kids after a divorce. Does that make sense? Wouldn't they prefer to foist-off the kids on the husband if the little bratlings are such a pain to raise? They're like: 'Oh! Oh! Mothers have everything so bad! Mothers can't win!' But they'll raise hell to keep custody." I shrugged again. "But anyway, back to what you asked about: yes a lot of American chicks think they ought to get paid for stuff like tidying-up and cooking."
"They consider cooking to be a burden. I remember you said that."
"Right. It's an especially odd comment, considering how an American female defines 'cooking' as 'throwing something in the microwave'. That's cooking." I groaned. "And when a man cooks for his wife, American chicks will make fun of him. 'Oh, my husband can't cook, he smokes-up the kitchen when he makes Jello and he puts ice cream in the toaster! Ha ha ha!' When American wives get-together, they often seem to have little competitions about whose husband is the most useless. But of course, it never seems to dawn on them that if they're going to be all hypercritical and hectoring, then their husbands might be less willing to cook in the future, eh? Oh, but ignore that. It's far too empathic." I shrugged. "On top of this, American women claim that men don't help-out enough around the home. But factually, their husbands are doing more housework than ever. It's a cycle: the more housework that men do, the more that American women complain that men aren't doing enough. I'm referring to studies on the topic, I'm not just making this up. From a high-level view, the complaints about husbands not doing enough housework do not correlate with how much housework the husbands are actually doing. Men are doing more housework than they've ever done in history but their wives are simply more prone to complaining about it."
"So, this is about cooking and cleaning and laundry. Right?"
"Basically, yes. The term 'housework' is misleading because it's highly ideological. It doesn't include household repairs or shoveling snow or stacking firewood or assembling furniture or virtually anything a man has traditionally done in the home. The concept of 'housework' strictly refers to whatever women do. Hooking-up a new VCR, putting-up the storm windows, painting the ceiling and shoveling ash out of the fireplace? If a man is doing those things, they're not housework. But if a woman does those things, they magically become housework." I scoffed. "And in the North American context, calling housework a 'burden' is an insult. Yeah it's boring, but it's not oppressive. For example, most of American households have dryers for the laundry. Or they at least have easy access to dryers. What about Japan?"
"Almost nobody here has a dryer."
"Why?"
"Because they're expensive and our homes don't have a lot of space."
"Only really rich Japanese people have dryers, right?"
"Yeah. Coin-laundries have them, too."
"So most people normally hang-up the laundry outside, right?"
"Of course. All the time. Every week."
"In fact, if you look at any Japanese apartment building, almost all of them have laundry hanging on the balcony."
"Of course."
"But American chicks usually don't have to do that because they can dry their clothes in ninety minutes. That's too oppressive for them! And if you go out to rural Guizhou, you'll see some pretty miserable housework. Like women washing clothes in a stream. If they want to cook a chicken, they might have to pluck one. Maybe even decapitate it and drain the blood. Now that is unpleasant. An American woman doesn't know the meaning of oppressive housework. Throwing something in the microwave? That's oppressive. Folding a towel? That's oppressive. In fact, if they could, American chicks would hire cleaning services to do even those easy things. I don't like to say the word 'spoiled', but if the shoe fits..." I shrugged.
"But it's still hard to believe that women in the U.S. want to be paid for doing housework." She shook her head. "If the husband is working full-time and earning money and supporting his wife, then she's already getting paid for the housework. Who else would pay for it?"
"Oh my God, what did you say?" I asked.
"I said, if their husbands are supporting them when they do housework, how is it unpaid labor?"
"Jesus, you've given men credit for something! No American chick would ever do that!" I gushed. "You're gorgeous!"
"Noo!" She blushed and giggled.
"But it's a good question to ask. If they get financially supported, how is it unpaid labor? I suppose American chicks would also want to bill infants for breast milk, too? That sounds like something they would think of. And maybe they would demand overtime pay for midnight feedings? And hazard pay for changing diapers?" I shrugged and chuckled. "Look, I'm not saying that cooking and cleaning and diapers ought to be exclusively a woman's arena. Far from it. I'm only saying that if a woman is going to refuse to let the husband have equal say in how the inside of the house is organized, then she deserves to have all the extra obligations. If she insists on controlling how every room in the house is set-up, then the husband ought not to be responsible for cleaning them. And if she's going to insist on always having the final 'yea' or 'nay' about the right way to raise the kids, then she ought to change their diapers. If she allows her husband to have some level of household control and if she'll let her husband be a truly equal parent, then the husband obviously ought to help with more domestic stuff. Very simple, but American chicks just don't get it. They want it both ways, but you simply can't have your cake and eat it too. I don't have a problem with my future wife working. And I don't have a problem with sharing the chores. In fact, I wouldn't be comfortable if it were any other way. But American chicks want to time-travel back and forth while retaining the prerogative to nag. They resent their husbands for not helping-out around the house even if their husbands are factually working their asses-off making the house a decent place to live in."
"So you wouldn't marry one?"
"Hah! Are you joking? Hah! There's no polite way to say this: American women make extremely sucky wives. Although I don't know how to measure it, I would have to imagine they rank among the very worst wives on the planet. And I guess that's okay because they think marriage is so horribly oppressive anyway. Which is probably a reason why they initiate divorces so often and deprive their kids of their fathers so often. Oh yeah, I'd really like to marry an American chick one day!" I tried not to puke at the thought.
"But about being paid for housework..." She asked, blinking in stunned bafflement. "How could that work?"
"Honey, logic is forbidden whenever it comes to an American female's demands." I smile and shrug. "Yes, the married American chicks think they ought to get paid for exercising their option to do domestic chores. Spending their husbands' money isn't good enough, they'll want extra cash on top of that. But as for the single moms, I suppose it's different. You might have a stronger case in that situation and I thought of a good solution to the problem: whoever consumes the services ought to pay for them, right? So if a single mother wants to be paid for child-rearing, then she ought to get a mortgage on the child."
"Eii?" Rieko asked.
"No no, hear me out. This would work. After getting the birth certificate, she should go to the bank and get a reverse-mortgage on the kid. The bank will send her a check every month for 18 years. And on the 18th birthday, the kid becomes the property of the bank."
Rieko strained to prevent herself from snickering.
"No, I'm not done. On the kid's 18th birthday, the bank has the option of selling the kid's organs. Or perhaps the bank could rent the kid to a Congolese bauxite mine or a lumber camp in Kamchatka or whatever kind of labor would repay 18 years' worth of dough, plus interest. So that's the solution. No more 'unpaid labor' for mom and the bank will make a profit. Everyone is happy."
Rieko was fighting-back the giggles. "But what about the kid?"
"Don't be a squeamish milksop! You have to remember that the most important thing in the universe is guaranteeing that an American female gets lots and lots of money for fulfilling whatever parental responsibilities she opts to have. And if you have to sell a few people into sweatshops, then that's a minor consideration. You need to understand whose needs come first, you big silly-head."
"NiceGuy..." She shook her head, smiling. "I hope you've been joking about all this. I never imagined they could be this bad."
"I don't think I've been lying so far. Yes, I've been trying to be satirical. And maybe I've exaggerated a few things here and there."
"Why don't they realize that they behave with so many... gizen?" She asked, using the word for 'hypocrisy'.
"It's only hypocrisy when you take the 'equality' principle seriously, and most American women don't. They only talk about 'equality' to keep-up appearances or for ideological warfare. They only say the 'e' word when it involves getting something good. But when it comes time to shoulder equal costs or equal burdens, the 'e' word suddenly vanishes and they run-off into the traditional women-only safety zone where they're supposedly being oppressed. They want equal ice cream, but they refuse to eat equal spinach. So as I said, 'equality' is not the right term to use. The real term is 'Ekwalitee', and it's not in any dictionary. There are actually no double-standards when a woman wants Ekwalitee. There is a single standard: women are more important and women's desires ought to override everything else. If you understand Ekwalitee, then all the double-standards vanish." I explained. "But I've been attempting to be tongue-in-cheek and funny until now. I haven't mentioned one of the most shocking and disturbing things about white women."
"What?" She looked curious.
"Unfortunately, I've come to the conclusion that a staggering number of them are racist as hell."
White Women Love To Feel Superior
"What? How?"
"It's really appalling. A lot of them stereotype black men as being violent or dangerous or something along those lines. Black men are about three times more likely to be accused of rape than white men for instance. It's a real serious problem. The intense stereotyping of black men as criminals is an incredibly ugly scar on society, and white women play such a major role in perpetuating these kinds of things. My sister for instance? She lives in a lily-white neighborhood. She demanded that her husband buy her a bigger house in a 'better' place because she didn't like living in their first house. Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Because there were too many blacks and Latinos in the previous neighborhood. She sort of has a problem with them. Because they're supposedly lusting to break-in and they supposedly breed like jackrabbits and whatever the hell she says that they do. So they've moved-out to a 'better' neighborhood full of the 'right' people. You know what 'better neighborhood' actually means, right? It means 'no darkies'! It's a really dismaying attitude, but it's typical of white women in general. They crave nice houses in the suburbs far, faaaaar away from those nasty dark people. Even more bizarrely, the white great-granddaughters of slave-owners have gotten themselves off the hook by claiming to have experienced a legacy of oppression even more severe than that of African-Americans. What a massive insult to black history that is. And white women enjoy so many privileges in U.S. society, it's sickening. Discrimination in favor of white women only ends-up worsening the racial disparities, too."
"How?"
"We have a national pension scheme called Social Security. It's set up like a pay-as-you-go plan. You pay into the system and by the age of 65 you qualify to get benefits. But you see, on average, black men die around the age of 65. An average black man will work his entire life, paying thousands of dollars into the system, and will most likely die before he gets a dime of it. And what group collects Social Security the longest? White women! So it's a transfer system which disproportionately takes money from black men and disproportionately gives it to white women. It's outrageous. And I've seen some really ugly crap come-out of many a white girl's mouth, too. My sister doesn't care for eastern Europeans, either..." I slapped my hands on the table. "Oh my God, and you know what she said one time? I couldn't believe this."
"What?"
"This was maybe ten years ago. A friend of mine went traveling around the former Soviet Union and visited a place called Babi Yar in the Ukraine. It's an infamous mass-murder site, one of the biggest. The Nazis and their Ukranian collaborators took something like 100,000 Jews from Kiev and herded them into a ravine. And they machine-gunned them and bulldozed dirt into the ravine. A lot of people were buried alive, as well. It was one of the more barbaric acts on the eastern front. So my friend comes-over to my house and was showing me some pictures of Babi Yar. My sister happened to walk by and made some wisecrack about how it was their own stupid fault for being so sheeplike and for letting the Nazis do that to them."
"What?"
"It's one of the most immoral statements I've ever heard. She's not an anti-Semite, she just doesn't like eastern Europeans. If they were Dutch or Norwegian or French or something I doubt she'd have said that. Well... maybe she'd have said that about the French. But anyway, it... it just staggered me that she'd say something like that. She can just totally talk out her ass sometimes. I was really embarrassed."
"That's terrible."
"And over the past few years, the Islamophobic racism in the U.S. has really come-out into the open. It's really... you just can't find words to describe how disturbing it is."
"Since September 11th?"
"Of course, but it was there before 9/11. 9/11 didn't cause it, it only offered a justification for it and the racists no longer feel the need to hide it. Look, if a bunch of people from Shanghai were behind the 9/11 attacks, these attitudes would've gotten projected against the Chinese instead. There's a long history of this sort of thing in the U.S. If you go back and look at the anti-Japanese rhetoric during World War II, the exact same thing is repeating today. If you substitute 'Muslim' for 'Jap', some of the rhetoric looks like it's being recycled, maybe with a few minor adjustments. It's really ugly. Maybe three years back, I was sitting at this formal dinner in the U.S. where respectable-looking upper-class white women were saying we ought to blow the shit out of the Afghans. Use nukes, whatever kills the most. Shoot 'em from helicopters like you'd hunt rhinos or something. And because the Afghans oppress women it's perfectly okay to shoot as many as you want, you know. These chicks were making no distinctions between individual Afghans at all. They said this stuff casually, over dinner. And they were free to speak this way because they'd never be expected to fight due to their precious vaginas of course. It was really sickening. I had no objections to destroying the Taliban, but the exterminationist rhetoric I heard was simply chilling. It was like something you'd expect to hear from Genghis Khan. And the invasion of Iraq hasn't helped, either."
"So is the government encouraging the racism?"
"Oh no, no, I really do not think so. Almost all of it is boiling-up from the more ultranationalist segments of the population. I've really got to give the government a bit of good credit, though. The Bush administration has kind of made an effort to condemn racist rhetoric and that speaks well of them. But among certain sectors, the race-hate has gone totally overt. You'll see froth boiling-up on the Internet or the talk radio fever swamp. People openly calling for the flattening of entire cities. It's appalling. It chills the blood. And so many white women totally go along with this. I mean, there are some female columnists out there in the media... Ann Coulter, oi!" I rolled my eyes. "She's a chronic liar and a complete whackjob. She's so incoherent, it's like she's got Tourette's syndrome or something. Not only does she contradict herself from paragraph to paragraph, but she will occasionally contradict herself within the same sentence and none of her readers seem to notice. For the life of me, I simply do not understand how she has any credibility left. It's got to be because of her sex. Like any American woman, she can say what she wants and she won't be held accountable." I sighed and shrugged. "Anyway, people's minds are getting poisoned. There's a kind of madness out there, a virus. People think they ought to tape-up their windows and prepare for a poison gas attack. And about what I said on the Chinese, there was an event back in 2001 which was very instructive as to how these things develop..."
"What was it?"
"There was an accident where some U.S. and Chinese planes collided over the South China Sea. The U.S. aircrew was detained in Hainan for about two weeks. And when you looked at the public reaction, the racism started to seep-in around the margins really quickly. The only death in the incident was Chinese, but you'd hear people wisecracking stuff: 'oh, those crazy slanty-eyed Chinese can't fly straight, can they?' And people would make fun of the dead pilot's name: 'Wong Wei! Get it? Ho ho!' Ugh. Simply puerile. There was at least one radio morning show which would call people with Chinese names to harass them. The Weekly Standard published a crack about how Jiang Zemin eats dogs. And that was in a major political journal; you'd expect them to know better. It was some really puerile stuff." I shrugged. "It started turning vile kind of quick. and if the situation lasted for a few more months, you can guarantee it would've gotten a hell of a lot nastier."
"That's sad."
"Well, anyway, I got off-topic. I was originally talking about the racism of white American chicks. Anyway, they'd stereotype you in really awful ways.""How?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Remember how I said that they'd insist your mom is powerless?"
"Yeah."
"That's the roots of it. Okay, a lot of white American women here in Japan are very bitter. They're really bitter in Taiwan as well. They look at the foreign men around them who have extremely beautiful Asian girlfriends and get mad. They say to themselves: 'He's pathetic! If we were back home, I wouldn't give him the time of day! I can't compete here because Asian women are submissive!!' That's the attitude: Japanese women spoil everything by being submissive slaves, they upstage the Great White Gaijin Chick who rightfully belongs at the center of the universe. It certainly isn't because white American women are paunchy and sexist and act like bulldozers. And it's not because they're vain and hypocritical and they look like land-bound dugongs, no sir. A white chick could never look in the mirror and reach the most obvious conclusions, could she? No, western men want to oppress somebody and Asian women are easily-oppressed whores." I rolled my eyes.
"What?"
"It's a really creative excuse, isn't it? I'm sitting here with you because I want to dominate you! I'm a colonialist and a pervert!"
"That's silly."
"It's not silly, it's insulting to Asian women in general. American women, especially the white ones, love to boast of how superior and liberated they are compared to their backwards little foreign sisters. They love it so freaking much. They get a real kick out of trashing women like you. They really relish the idea of insisting over and over that you're subservient and naive and passive and you're so hopelessly beneath them." I shrug. "And it's no big loss to them because I'm not worth it anyway, right? I guess only men with good taste prefer white women. I must have extremely bad taste because Caucasian chicks are so self-evidently superior to Asians, huh? What self-flattery! What fucking conceit! It's white supremacism in a pseudo-feminist package. The man who doesn't love ass-sagging, horselike, white Amazons isn't worth it because he'd prefer a brainless toy like you." I rolled my eyes and snorted. "This jealous little fantasy of theirs, it's... it's so awful, but they actually believe this crap. The white women here don't have all the foreign men going ga-ga over them and they hate it. So, in sour-grapes fashion, the foreign men in Japan are just too ugly and pathetic for them. And Japanese women are simply too stupid to discern the hunks from the losers." I waggled my finger. "So these white chicks are mad and they resort to crass, racist shit-headedness to soothe their bruised little self-esteems. It'd be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic and shameful."
"I..." She folded her arms. "I... you know, I've always felt like that was true. What you said, I mean. You put words to it." She nervously rubbed her cheeks with her fingers. "It's the first time you've ever said what it seems like actually happens... I... I don't know what to say."
"Well, that is what happens. And if you and I were to go to the U.S. and walk around together holding hands, more than a few white women will make a number of similarly insulting assumptions. Could I be with you because you're a wonderful person? No. It's because you're a wussy, unenlightened girly-girl from a backwards culture and I'm manipulating you and using you for my own twisted gratification. Or perhaps I bought you out of a catalog? Lord knows, you yellow women are prone to whoring yourselves like that. Or perhaps you're giving me exotic sexual favors so you can use me as an easy way of immigrating? You just can't trust them slant-eyes you know, American females are simply more honest than you yellow-skinned rice-eaters. A white woman would never be as exploitative and devious as one of you inscrutable Japs. Even if you're an Asian woman who was born and raised in the U.S., a lot of white women will still think this way. They'll regard you as an outsider even if you grew-up there. Slant-eyes all look the same, right? But those women not fortunate enough to be born as a white American chick need not despair; all they must do is imitate their superiors long and hard, and they'll be almost as good as the real thing! If you start to ape grinchy white chick behavior, that's when you'll become an honorary white chick and you'll graduate 'up'! Some of this crap is so stunningly bigoted, it takes a while to grasp." I scratched my temples. "But the big point is this: a lot of white women will automatically assume that there must be an ulterior motive if you have a white boyfriend. You're easy to take advantage of because you're a helpless, submissive, pathetic little geisha-girl and your boyfriend is a loser fetishist who is exploiting you like you're some kind of third-world resource. Or you're a devious, untrustworthy two-faced hypersexual harlot who is exploiting a horny fool because you can get a green-card out of him. You're a slave or a slut and he's a loser or a pervert. It can't possibly be that you're happy together, nooo it certainly couldn't be that." I fumed.
Rieko was clenching her fist rather tightly by now. She looked really upset.
"This reaction of theirs is based on the color of your skin. If you were white, they wouldn't think this. If you were blonde and blue-eyed, they wouldn't make these assumptions at all. I've never thought that Asian women are naturally slutty or weak-minded or whatever. No damned way. It's a slur! It's a totally racist idea and it angers me to no end to hear it, but you will seriously find a huge number of white women who actually make accusations like that. In the U.S. I've met white women with PhDs who express disbelief when I say that most Asian women I've met are tough and independent-minded. I'm convinced that these stereotypes about Asians keep circulating because they reinforce the prejudices of white women. Seriously, in all my experience it's been almost exclusively the white women who make these kinds of snide insults. Probably 95% of it comes from white chicks, I don't think I've met any other group of people in the world who have such an extreme and perverse relish for bashing Asian women. It's disgraceful."
"So what would they say to me?" She asked angrily.
"They wouldn't say anything incriminating to you. For appearances, of course. But they would sure think it. Maybe they'd feel sorry for you, all condescending-like. 'Ooh the poor, fluff-headed geisha-girl from a backwards country of sweatshops and rice-paddies doesn't know how much she's debasing herself.' Oh yeah, an Asian woman can never make her own decisions, can she?" I scoffed. "Or they'll deride me internally. 'Ooh, the pathetic wimp has a fetish and he wants a submissive sex-toy. You know how men are, always wanting to oppress somebody. He wants a housewife from the '50s, but she'll drop him when she gets her citizenship because you know the dirty tricks that those lying Orientals play.' It's utterly racist, but I swear to Christ this is how a lot of them think. A lot of them are uncomfortable with a white man being with an Asian woman, so they assume there's a hidden motive. Oh yeah, Asian women are passive and the man is a predator. Any white man with an Asian girlfriend is probably unworthy of a white woman. And if you weren't such an easily-dominated slut you would have little appeal compared to a white chick, Rieko. Isn't that the most insulting thing you've ever heard in your life?"
Rieko folded her arms, obviously very upset. She was about to open her mouth to say something, but she closed her mouth and looked at the floor angrily instead.
"Yeah it angers me too, but that's how they think." I nodded sympathetically. "But it's a white woman's prerogative to date outside her race and she doesn't have to explain herself if she does. If a white woman gets attracted to black men because they feel so 'dangerous' or because she thinks they've got huge dicks, well that's not racist. That's not objectification at all. No excuses or apologies needed, huh?" I harrumphed. "Yes, according to these wonderful new rules of Ekwalitee, white chicks can explore whatever sexual paths they wish. They may sleep with whomever they want. But the instant a white chick sees a white man with an attractive Asian woman, oh he's a pathetic sicko! He's a colonialist! He's out to dominate!" I growled. "What crap! A simply craven and despicable mentality! If I ever felt any bitterness because I saw a white woman dating a nonwhite man, I'd be totally ashamed of myself. It's like me saying: 'How dare that Negro lay his filthy hands on a white woman! How could she stoop so low? She must be a pervert!' How does that sound? If I said something like that, someone would ice-pick me in the head. Hell, I'd deserve it. But white chicks can make those exact kinds of racially-charged insults and no one ever bats an eyelash. It's peachy for them to be bigots. And do they ever loooove to bash Asian women! Oh yes, they get a real charge out of it, their eyes really light-up. It's so incredibly racist it makes you want to kill someone." I angrily crumpled-up my napkin and tossed it on the table. "And on top of that, very rarely will you see a white woman dating an Asian man in the U.S. It's very, very rare. White women stereotype Asian men as being dorky wimps or as having small dicks or whatever. They've all seen Sixteen Candles and laughed at Long Duk Dong. Seriously, they really do not like Asian men. They sneer at them."
"But what about the kung-fu stars in the movies? Aren't they sexy?"
"Those characters are tough, but they're largely asexual. They can kick your ass but rarely will those men even get a kiss. They might as well be eunuchs. And in real life, you will almost never see an Asian man getting romantic attention from white women. I have Asian friends back home who feel invisible. They feel like white women look down on them. It's like they have to be God before a white woman will ever deign to pay them any freaking attention at all. I sympathize with them because I know they're totally right. An Asian-American woman is twice as likely to marry a non-Asian than is her male counterpart and that's not because Asian-American men aren't willing to date white women. Ultimately, it has a lot to do with how racist white women are. They really think that their vaginas and their lily-white, puffy, purulent flesh gives them a qualitative edge, although maybe they'll occasionally condescend to have a little adventurous tryst with one of the darker types. You know, just to take a walk on the wild side with one of the more dangerous and hypermasculine ethnicities." I snorted. "It's very, very ugly stereotyping that they do and no one ever calls them on it."
"This is really depressing." Rieko replied, slowly shaking her head.
"Sorry." I shrugged. "It's just that I've seen it in Taiwan, I've seen it here and I've seen it in the U.S. over and over. It's really unpleasant to think about. And you know, the stereotype that I pointed-out about Asian men having small penises and black men having huge penises, that's all part of an old white-supremacy theory. The theory goes like this: a black man has a small brain but he's got big genitals, so he could be a depraved rapist. At the other end you have the cold, calculating, inscrutable Oriental who has a big brain and small genitals. But whites are in the middle-- they are the optimum mix. That's the theory, and it's totally crackpot and racist and it helped to justify all kinds of apartheid-like anti-miscegenation laws. But, a lot of white chicks cling to the bits of this idea which deal with penises. It's pretty outrageous, but white chicks just keep repeating this crap over and over. Feh!" I paused and looked at the floor. "Sorry for being so unpleasant today."
"No, that's okay."
"Would you like me to take you home?" I offered.
"Not yet. I want to have dinner. Do you?"
"Sure, what would you like?" I asked.
"Italian?"
"Sure. Is there a place nearby?"
"I think so. I think I saw a place a block down."
"I promise I won't talk any more this evening." I smiled weakly. "I don't want to bore you. Will you talk instead?"
"Baka, Naisugai-san." She giggled. "Come on." She smiled as she stood-up and put-on her scarf and gestured for me to follow her.
After Dinner...
Dinnertime conversation was on lighter topics, or so I had insisted. Movies, Rieko's parents' upcoming summer trip to Cairns and so on.
Afterwards, she and I took the train back to her apartment. Out of the station, we walked down a quiet street nearing a white four-story building. I noticed that her face was a little pink due to the two glasses of wine she'd had with dinner.
It was very good wine, actually. I had three glasses.
"We're here." She led me towards the first floor entrance and we stood outside.
"Rieko-san, arigatogozaimashita." I said to her.
"Why are you thanking me?" She dug-out her key and opened the door.
"For coming to the museum with me today. It would've been no fun if I went by myself."
"I'm happy. I would've been very bored today if I wasn't outside doing something." She unlocked the door and twisted the handle. "NiceGuy..." she turned her head back and smiled sweetly. "...would you come in?"
"Are you sure? I shouldn't stay long."
"Just for a little while?"
I nodded and followed her in. She rested her hand on my upper arm and guided me inside.
As she flipped-on the light, I noticed the interior was quite small even by local standards. It was like a college dorm room with a kitchenette.
While I closed the door behind me, she hung her coat on the wall. She reached behind me to lock the front door... and suddenly put her arms around me.
"Hon? Are you okay?" I was surprised. My heart rate immediately picked-up.
"NiceGuy..." She whispered. "There's been something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."
"What is it?" Phew, it's getting warm. I could feel a bit of sweat starting to bead on my temple.
"I've been crushing at you."
"Er-- pardon?" I blinked.
"Crushing. Is that the word?"
"Word for...?"
She closed her eyes and buried her face in my chest. "I mean I like you."
"Oh, you have a crush?" I felt my heart ache. I hate not being able to return a woman's affections.
"Yes! I have a crush at you."
I decided not to correct her English. As I put my hands on her shoulders, I could feel her starting to tremble.
"Rieko, honey..." I put my arms around her and I hugged her securely. "Honey, that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"I know you have a girlfriend." She began to sniffle. "But I still desire you a lot." Her eyes started misting-up.
"Don't cry, please?"
"It just hurts that I'm telling you now and I know that you can't be my boyfriend." Her lip trembled.
"Please don't cry." God, I can't stand seeing her like this. I reached in my coat pocket and handed her a tissue. "I am flattered by what you said. Really I am." I ran my fingers through her hair as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "Rieko, this isn't because you're not a totally incredible and gorgeous woman." I felt really disconcerted, the tears were still rolling-down her cheeks. "Did you have too much wine tonight, sweetheart?"
"I'll be okay!" She sniffled. "Just don't look at me." She turned-away and dabbed at her face.
I looked down at the floor. I hated rejecting her. It felt awful. I hated seeing her cry, too. I wanted to cheer her up. I don't know what it is, but when I see a woman starting to cry, it really makes me dismayed and uncomfortable. It's like I have to do something.
"Rieko, honey..." I put my hand on her shoulder and slid my arm around her. "I have a question for you."
"What?" She blew her nose and clutched the tissue in her hand. She cast her glance on the floor, like it was painful to look at me.
"If I could change one thing about you, can you guess what it would be?" I wrapped my arms around her again as she placed her head on my shoulder. I pressed my cheek against on the top of her head.
"Are you serious?" She sniffed.
"Really. If I could change one thing about you, what would it be?"
"Something about my face?"
"No! Hell no!" I shook my head frantically and looked down at her. "No way."
"My hair or something about my body? What?" She looked-up into my eyes.
"If I had the ability to magically change anything about you, I would change..." I paused dramatically, looked deep into her eyes and let my voice drop to a whisper. "Nothing."
She coughed and let-out one laugh. "No..."
"I'm not kidding, I wouldn't change one thing about you."
"Noooo." She playfully swatted at me with one hand. "Liar."
"I wouldn't change your personality, I wouldn't change your looks, I wouldn't change one single thing. I would leave you exactly the way you are. I wouldn't change anything about you." I pointed to a little dark freckle on her chin. "I wouldn't change that freckle. It's perfect where it is."
"Noooo." She sniffed, but managed to force a smile.
"Yes, I really mean it."
She sniffled, stepped back, put her hands on her hips and started swaying her hips right and left. "I don't know what to say." She managed to force a smile.
"Well, there is nothing about you that I would change in any way. I wish I'd met you before I'd met-"
"Haruna."
"Right." I bobbed my head and shrugged.
"NiceGuy..." She looked-down at the floor. "Yes, I know that you are a gentleman." She looked-up at me and started playing with my collar with one finger. "But I had a fantasy that I could seduce you away from her. I'm so embarrassed to tell you that now."
"Don't be." I whispered. "The first week I saw you, I... just... well, you're gorgeous. I couldn't stop stealing glances at you."
"I know. It was obvious."
"Really? Well, I think I'm the one who ought to feel embarrassed." I closed my eyes and sucked air through my teeth. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."
"But I did notice." She rested her head against my shoulder. "May I just have one thing?"
"Sure." I opened my eyes. "Anything." I really wanted to do something kind for her to help make-up for this uncomfortable situation. I felt really bad. I hated rejecting a woman as wonderful as this one.
Rieko took-off her shoes, I leaned-back against the door frame. She rested her arms on my shoulders and cocked her head.
"I want to kiss you. On the lips. I have wanted to do it for so long. Pleeeeeeeeease?"
Hm. I felt uncomfortable doing that. But at the same time, it didn't sound like a bad way of exiting the situation. My ears were starting to heat-up. Jeez, I don't want to make her feel worse.
"All right." I nodded weakly. Just one kiss, and that'll be the end of it. One kiss, and I'll go home.
Rieko stepped closer to me. There was less than an inch of space between us. I softly laid my palms on both sides of her waist. I had a dismaying feeling about this...
She put her palm behind my neck and angled my head downward. She stretched-up and pressed her mouth against mine, I could feel that she was shaking slightly as she did so.
Her lips were soft and wet. Very slick and rubbery. I liked the way she was kissing me. It was very deep and warm. I closed my eyes.
I liked it a lot.
I probably liked it a bit too much.
She made a few "mmmmm" sounds and her free hand pulled one of my arms around her back. After about five seconds (probably, I wasn't counting) she uncoupled her lips from mine and pulled-back from my face.
"That was nice..." She spoke in her breathiest voice. "Did you like that?"
"Wuhh!" An uncontrollable shiver rippled down my spine. Numbly, I nodded. My eyes were half-closed. I was about to open my mouth but she stood-up on her toes and kissed me again. "Mmmmph." She caught me just as I was about to say something.
I should have pulled back... but I didn't. We just kept kissing. I pulled her closer, she pulled me closer. Her hands balled-up and grabbed bits of my shirt. My hormones were roaring by now.
Wait, wait, what am I doing?
Suddenly, I pulled-back a bit.
"Okay, that's two kisses." I panted. I felt her breasts pushing-up against me. "Phshhhhaaaa..." My heart was racing, it was an incredible rush. It just felt so good.
In one of those heat-of-the-moment, lack-of-self-control situations that you later live to regret being in, Rieko stood on one leg and locked the other leg around the back of my waist, rubbing her crotch against mine. Without thinking, I began kissing down her neck as she tilted her head back.
"Hoshii!!" She squealed at the ceiling and wrapped her arms around my head tightly. "I want to have sex!"
Jeez! Okay, no. No. This is getting out of hand.
"Hon! Hon! Hon... " I gently started to push her back and gasped. Her face was... yeesh. Astounding! She put both feet on the ground and began busily pulling-off her sweater. "Whoa, there. We shouldn't do anything else." I tried to regain some control.
"I want to! Please!" She flung her sweater away. I think it landed on her stove. Her bra was surprisingly unattractive, it was far more utilitarian than alluring. But it didn't make her one bit less sexy. She deftly undid about four hooks in the back and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts flopped-out.
My God, they were exquisite.
"You haveshaphhhjeez..."
"Here, touch." She took my hand and directed it towards her chest.
"These are fffa... " I bit my lip and gently squeezed. "...perfect in every way." I must've been talking in squeaks at this point.
"Thank you, but no." She shook her head. She cupped her hands under her breasts and hefted them up and together like twin fleshy grapefruits, barely covering her nipples with her fingers. "It's hard for me to find bras."
I instinctively kneaded her gently with both hands while kissing her down the neck once again. She jerked-up, moaned and pushed herself tightly against me. "Kiss me everywhere!" She guided my fingers to her nipples as she sloppily sucked at my face.
Oh, God. I've wanted to see her topless for so long!
Oh Gawwwwwwd, it was the best feeling in the world!
She pulled her tongue-out of my mouth and gasped in delight. "Oh! Kimochiii!"
But I shouldn't.
Ooh, God do I want to...
I want to kiss her all over her body, jump on top of her...
No, no, I can't.
She began to tug-at my clothes. She wanted them to come-off.
I pulled back.
"It's bad for me to do this, I should go..." I shook my head, my pulse racing. "I'm sorry, honey."
"Can I change your mind?" She started undoing her belt and jeans. "I want you with me all night."
"It's not right for me to do this." I turned towards the door.
"Only one night?" I heard a belt buckle hitting the floor. I turned-around. The jeans were crumpled around her ankles, her white panties matched her bra. They had to be the most boring panties in the world, but her waist and hips were so maddeningly well-formed that it didn't matter.
"Baby, it's not because I don't find you sexy, it's just... it's not right."
"Please?" She mashed her breasts together again. "I need your body..."
I admired the sight.
Although many men might think they'd like to be in a situation like this, it had to have been one of the more agonizing set of conflicting emotions I'd experienced in a long time.
"And I'm wet for you." Her voice sounded light, airy, incredibly sweet.
Rejecting a woman this gorgeous felt horrible beyond imagination. At the same time, I had special feelings for my girlfriend that I couldn't disregard. I knew that if I were to cheat on Haruna, the guilt would eat-away at me.
"Rieko, honey... I can't."
"Hmph!" She pouted. "If you change your mind, please?"
"Honey, I can't change my mind either." I kissed my hand and sadly waved to her. "If I stay here with you, it won't be good for either of us. I hate saying 'no' to you because you're such a sweetheart. But I have to. Good night." I tried to look resolute as I slipped-out the door and let it close behind me.
I walked-away from the building, hurriedly turned a corner and immediately whacked my knee against a pointy metal bit protruding from a parked bicycle.
Limping Towards The Nearest Train Station...
"Ow!"
Now what?
"Shyah!"
I don't know. I felt like crap.
"Blahst!"
And my knee doesn't feel great, either.
I shouldn't tell Haruna about this. Should I?
No, I won't tell her. It's best if she didn't know.
Not telling her felt awful.
It wasn't a situation that I'd wanted to be in at all.
After a few minutes, I arrived at the station. I put my transit-card through the slot, went through the turnstile and looked-around. The place was empty. I shambled-up a flight of stairs to the platform, sat-down on a plastic bench and inspected my knee.
"Guh. What happened back there with Rieko?"
Okay, steady. Relax. Have to sort-out what's you're going to do next.
The erotic voltage that Rieko had been broadcasting had been so intense as to be overwhelming. I hated saying 'no' to her.
The ludicrous expectation which all of womankind would require of me is that, when I'm not around my girlfriend, I shouldn't experience any sexual arousal at all.
If I cheated on my girlfriend, I would've felt terrible. And it would've gnawed away at me for a long time.
Well, maybe I could give Rieko something to apologize for any embarrassment she feels.
Maybe I could get her a bottle of wine or something as a present?
Yeah, that sounded good. Yes, I'll do that. I'll get her a bottle of wine as a gift on Monday. Good idea.
You know what would be a wonderful custom? Every time someone rejects another person's romantic advances, they rejecter ought to buy the rejected person a bottle of wine as a way of saying 'sorry for your hurt feelings'. That might help even some things-up.
No, not just wonderful-- it would be awesome.
Yeah. That would be an awesome custom!
Wouldn't that be great? And the wineries would like it too.
But knowing American chicks, they would abuse that custom the same way they abuse every other freaking custom.
They would make deliberately incompetent romantic advances whenever they wanted to stock-up on free wine.
Without thinking, I pulled-out my phone. I have to call Haruna.
A little voice inside me screamed: 'Tell Haruna the truth!'
I punched a button and held the phone to my ear. It rang four times. What do I say? I had to say something to her. I felt awful about everything.
"Moshi-moshi." She answered.
"Konbanwa." I said. I was starting to feel flustered. "Genki desuka?"
"So-so. I just finished work. I'm going to drive home soon."
"Oh, do you want me to call back later?"
"No, it's okay. Are you coming to see me tomorrow?"
"Sure, is 11 ok?"
"That's fine. Do you want me to make lunch for you?"
"Urh... that's not necessary. God you're always such a sweetie." I ran my fingers through my hair. My hand was shaking. "Thanks for offering. I... uh... you've made lunch a lot for me lately, maybe I could make you lunch instead?"
"Ooh. Are you going to make peanut-butter banana sandwiches again?"
"No, no. I'm, uh... I'm out of peanut butter." I laughed nervously. Obviously my voice wasn't sounding quite right to her.
"Darling, are you okay?" She asked.
"Yeah." I sighed. I should've planned this better. "Actually no. Honey?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not okay. I wanted to tell you that I'm very sorry."
"You're sorry. Why?"
"Because I let myself get in a situation that I regret being in."
"What was it?"
"I... um..." I sighed. I just can't say it. Haruna has been so good to me and I don't want to hurt her. "HoneyIpromiseI'mnotgoingtohangoutwithheragain." I said rapidly.
"What happened?"
"Well, I guess I was... sort of... walking with Rieko and... uh... we were a little tipsy and I found out that she has a crush on me and she wanted to get physical."
"She wanted you to sleep with her?" I could hear the tone of her voice hardening. "When?"
"About five minutes ago. I'm on my way home now. I can't cheat on you, honey." I sighed. "I promise I'm not going to hang-out with her again. Honto-ni jibun no yattakoto-wo koukaishiteimasu."
"I... don't know how to feel right now." She replied with some hesitation. "I'm not a jealous person, and I don't mind if you have female friends..."
"Darling, I shouldn't have put myself in that situation and a lot of it is my fault and..."
"Well, I'm blaming her for it!" She interrupted. "You're a coworker, and she knows you have a girlfriend. She shouldn't be acting like that. Oh, I'm angry at her!"
"Err... well, I won't let it happen again because I'm not going to hang out with her from now on." I sighed. "I promise."
"I know you usually keep your promises." She said calmly. "I know you'll keep this one because that's who you are. Honey, I trust you. I don't trust her."
"I hope that we can talk about this more tomorrow."
"Well..." She sighed. "Let's talk about it tomorrow." She sounded conciliatory.
"Okay, I'll come by at 11." Maybe I ought to bring a bottle of wine for Haruna as well? I paused a little too long. "Um, hon?"
"Bye." She replied curtly and hung-up.
I wearily slumped against a concrete post. I looked down at the dead phone in my hand. The backlit LCD screen blinked: 'No connection' in kanji.
I sighed deeply. Well, that went better than I expected. Maybe I'm starting to love Haruna?
A few minutes passed. I saw a wavering light slowly growing in intensity at the end of the train tracks. A familiar metallic squealing and grinding could be heard in the distance. Time to go.
Just then, my phone beeped as an e-mail arrived.
I flipped-open the handset. The e-mail was from Rieko. There was a picture attached.
I tensed my jaw. Wonder what it says?
The subject line of the message said: "IF"
I opened the mail. "IF YOU EVER CHANGE YOUR MIND..."
I clicked on the picture. It was from the mini-camera embedded in Rieko's cell-phone. Despite the rather low resolution, the half-inch picture was a close-up of her lips. They were moistened, parted, her tongue gently curled-up and licking...
"Oh, is that all it is?" I laughed out-loud in semi-relief.
I'd suspected the picture was going to be something else.
At that moment, the train arrived and the doors swooshed open.
No, I didn't even have to think twice. Without hesitation, I stepped-on and headed for home.
It was a very tempting offer, but I'd rather do the right thing.
I selected Rieko's message and hit 'delete'.
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"A nagging wife couldn't care less whether her words are wise or foolish, provided that the sound of her own voice can be heard." -- Mathieu of Boulogne, Liber lamentationum Matheoluli, 1295
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