Seen in many forms of Japanese media the confession, or Kokuhakusuru 告白する has become an important part of relationships at an early stage. This direct approach to feelings seems odd and out of place in an avoidance culture such as Japan. The fear of rejection has left me with many regrets in life, an incident in middle school had left me feeling so betrayed by the people I cared for the most. The weight of that feeling was on my shoulders through High School, College, and even now as I write to you. My mom actually thought I was gay because I had never had a girlfriend, while I have nothing against homosexuals, I don’t play for that team.(If you could hack my internet history, you’d see I wasn’t gay (´๑•_•๑)
Of course there were girls I liked, in fact I could name them all starting from that incident in seventh grade. Between the drama at home, mild aspergers, and lack of confidence it felt as if I had become an empty cask. Perhaps that’s why I had an obsession with zombies, it seemed as though I was a member of the walking dead myself. The only time I was able to tell a girl how I really felt was one incident in college where my friend and I shared a bottle of Jager and I drunkenly scribbled on the whiteboard on her door “I think you’re cute”. There were some girls I should’ve told how I felt, but feelings are things that are hard to put in words.
Last Year
I had the closest thing to a real girlfriend I had ever had in my life. We went out on dates, went to a rave, and kissed a couple times. I’m thankful to have had those experiences, but our relationship was more akin to wounded souls finding comfort than love. Being a coworker we began speaking during idle moments at work, sharing car rides, until eventually I asked her out on a date. Her fun loving personality mixed with brutal honesty felt like a cool breeze in the humid-tension filled climate of political correctness in the Pacific Northwest and college. Learning takes place when we step on each others toes and sort things out right?
One of my favorite things about meeting new people is sharing the experience of music together. It’s a weird transcendent experience to listen to go on the same journey delivered through music with someone. You begin to associate songs with that person, like when Black Beetles plays I think of my friend John completely drunk dancing all by himself and asking why no one else is dancing. The endless songs I listened to in college with my closest friends and roommates JGal and Sean remind me of my college days, lastly I’ll always think of her when I listen to getter, zomboy, and excision or when I play the mixtapes I made while having her there.
There were a number of reasons things weren’t meant to be first of which is the location I’m writing from, I currently sit in a small city called Matsumoto in Nagano Japan. To be happy she deserved someone who would put her needs before their own dream. Another reason why it can be hard to love me is I don’t even love myself, girls want confidence right? Everytime she would say something nice about me I’d tell her something like. . . “haha yeah right“. “NO i’m not good” or anything along those lines. She’d often open up and tell me how she really felt about things, unknown to me at the time this is how girls communicate with people they trust. All I had to do was listen with empathy, but instead like many men I put on my fix it hat and began offering rational solutions to all her problems. (a big no no this denies her feelings)
Her Dick of An Ex
was also a problem, although he wasn’t really an ex. I’m just going to get this out of the way I don’t like him he’s a douche. A stereotypical I’m in the marines, I shoot guns, I have a dirtbike and because I’m in the service I can be a dick to whoever I want to be and if you don’t like me I’ll call you unpatriotic and flip you off. Now I have many friends in the service and thank god not all servicemen are like this asshole. Being in the service this guy has a lot more disposable income and career success than me there’s no doubt about that. While I say he was an ex, the truth was he was never really an ex. Having a sister around the same age as this girl I knew the truth was, she was still thinking about him when she was with me. Because I did really like her I knew that she’d be ten times happier with jockey jarhead dickbag than me. (although data indicates that people who behave that way towards others are more insecure than people like me ironic right?)
The mild aspergers had prevented me from learning human body language as most normal humans do, but for me I had to study it, this was after the time I had been trying to date her. Although I was still an artist and I can still remember the way she sat, never facing me. The only time she would become attentive was when her phone buzzed, I’m sure you can put the dots together on who was on the other side of the phone, but the socially inept me at the time didn’t understand any of this.
Everything Is NOt What it Seems
Finally one of the last things is that girls don’t always say what they mean. Girls are naturally inclined to use indirect methods of communication, so when talking to me, the mild aspie even more gets lost in translation. There is a lot of meaning behind inflection and the way girls say things, the only thing I payed attention was what was said. It’s only now I realize that “you stay on your side of the bed and I’ll stay on mine” means something completely different to what the words imply if said in the inflection. How I stayed on my side of the bed doing absolutely nothing while partially crossfaded took the discipline and self control of a modern zen monk because that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I’m happy to Report
That although I could care less for the guy, the way he treats this girl is something to be admired and they are happily engaged.
Stay Tuned For Part 2
Miracle
