Nothing Much

Here is a tossed together entry, a nothing much entry, a “The Brain doesn’t want to deal much with reality” entry...

The Handsome Businessman has no reason to come in on a Tuesday, but he want to see me I think. He signs up for one of my classes, a “bonus lesson” that students have to pay extra for. It’s the start of a long holiday (New Years) and not many students opt to pay extra for lessons. He is one of two students that come to the class.

He pays an incredible amount of attention to me and I am flattered by him. In my dream, I think he exists for several reasons, not the least of which is to test my resolve to loyalty and fidelity. He also exists to remind me that I am attractive to men still, even with an extra ten or fifteen pounds on me. He exists, in his disciplined state, to remind me that the decision is mine, regardless of how much I am wanted. That is important, so I’m going to say it again, write it again and make it stand out. Here it is:

The Handsome Businessman exists and his disciplined state reminds me that the decision is mine, regardless of how much I am wanted.

What decision? The decision to make love to a man or not.

Though we have not had sex, never so much as kissed, we have been intimate. We have been close. I have made love to him. I have flirted, teased him, touched him. I have made myself attractive and he comes. I have made myself unattractive and he comes. He comes and there is no pressure from him for me to be anything but myself. And if he weren’t married, I don’t know that this would continue to be the case.

I praised another student, an attractive female student, and I watched the wheels in his head turn and then I watched him flirt with her while he watched me and I laughed. It was like lining up the dominos and tipping one to hear them fall in such an orderly fashion, one after the other. He flirted and I laughed and was not jealous. He couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t jealous and I couldn’t tell him that I wasn’t jealous because I am not attached to the outcome. I am not attached to his desire.

That’s a lie. I am attached to his desire, but not in an expected way. I will try to explain: If he stopped desiring me, of course it wouldn’t matter. I would feel that it had run its course in his head and I would feel satisfied with what’s come before. It wouldn’t matter because there is no real possibility of having anything more than a friendship with a married man--and here, the possibilities of friendship between men and women are greatly limited by cultural boundaries. By that, I mean, that generally, from what I’ve seen and experienced, men and women don’t have friendships with one another that don’t lead to romantic entanglements. Because that is the case, the sexes don’t mix much on the friendship level; they’re wary that there might, at some point, be some conflict over the expectation of marriage.

Anyway, I suppose that not only am I attached to his desire toward me, but that I am also attached to my desire for him too. I used to, when we first met, spend time preening for him and searching him out. My attention was always, when I thought he might be at The Kaisha, drawn to him. I was always looking for him or listening for the sound of his voice. And now, though I don’t look for him anymore, don’t find myself listening for the sound of his voice in the lobby, I still enjoy seeing him, still enjoy talking to him, still enjoy his company. And he enjoys me, too. I hope.

Kyo wa...Today...Today was the first day of my New Year’s holiday (a week off!) and I went to Kita Senju, a part of Tokyo about four stations away from Higashi-Mukojima. I am actually looking for a suitcase (I sent my pilot’s case home with Dave) and a warmer, casual coat. Since I’m heading off to Hiroshima in a couple of days, I decided that I probably should have a way to carry my belongings and keep warm. Ahhh, Hiroshima.