A Girl from Shizuoka

This morning I woke up under my comfortable tweed blanket in the Red Palms hotel to spend Valentines day in the most romantic city on earth - Bombay.
I've now spent a consequetive three Valentines days alone, last year Miki was getting her visa renewed in Japan, the year before Liam and I dressed up and took out all the single losers we knew for a group date that can be described as 'less than impressive'
Although Liam and I were impressive. I miss Misaki more than I miss the Handsome Gentlemen though. Ah the handsome gentlemen, people who have never been part of a gang of never do wells don't know what they are missing out on.
Anyway though, fair's fair and fun's fun. I haven't been that fair to Misaki or the readers of my blog and I just wanted to clarify here on valentines day, that I too had doubts about her. This is in the interest of Objectivity.

Doubt 1#: Life without Meaning.

It was our third date, a movie date and we had just officially become bf and gf. The only movie I would subject myself to was 'Flags of our fathers' which in hindsight may have been a poor choice for a Japanese girlfriend, but then again fuck them they have to learn.
Anyway we were walking home walking up Spencer st and then turning down Collins st. I stopped at a 7-eleven and bought myself an ice cream because it was fucking hot. And in a sign of progress that would amaze any past liasons, I actually shared food with her. This dates back to a childhood trauma that had come out in the wash of my councilling sessions 6 months earlier. My brother was the trigger, when he commented to me after travelling that his friend had remarked in Prague how controlling he was of his food.
After some ponderation we linked this behaviour (that I too shared) back to Janice. I love Janice she is a wonderful crazy lady masquarading as an ordinary middle class white, but she is one of those bitches who orders a salad at a restaurant and then expects you to share your main, and worse yet, one of those mothers that buys her kids icecreams and doesn't buy one for herself, expecting to eat roughly a third of all her kids icecreams.
She's not evil, just thinks she is crafty. Anyway her way of taking a 'bite' of icecream can only acurately be described as 'making love to it with her mouth' and so from early childhood, my brother and I (and possibly my sister I don't know if Janice got to her or not) lived in fear of people molesting our food.
Anyway I had knowing this trauma by its true colours, overcome it, and learnt to trust again.
Misaki was eating some of my icecream and I noticed her frilly, billowy, red dress was quite nice as it bobbed up and down as she walked around with her cute little but going from side to side.
So I decided to lovingly caress her but, and without missing a beat Misaki finished her bite of the icecream and said 'tohm, what you do?'
And I said I grabbed her arse.
And she said 'well in future please don't do.'
I wish I could have seen my face, but I know what I was thinking, and that was 'this isn't going to be much fun at all.'
And that's my first doubt.

Doubt 2#: Questionable medical knowledge.

This seems to be a recurring theme with girls I date, one of them lay around in constant pain for a year and earned the nickname 'clumpy' thanks to self diagnosis and seeing experts whose profession ends in - 'pathy'.
I am no Pharmacuetical pill popping lobyist nor disbelieve in 'Alternative' medicine, but I do like the empirical method and I wish more crystalopaths would subject their methods to it, and furthermore an alternative is strong as an alternative, to other forms of medicine, I don't fancy alternatives being in reality exclusives.
Anyway, Miki was sometimes endearing with her questionable medical knowledge, like the time she developed a rash on her shoulder, but didn't know how to explain it to me (even though I could see it was a rash) and went to her pocket dictionary and came back to show me the translation - 'herpes' delightful.
But then there where times when she wanted me to sleep on my couch because if my temperature reached 100 it would kill all me sperm. Or insisting that the fan be off in my bedroom because it would 'eat all the oxygen' leaving me pussy whipped and drowning in my own sweat.
And when she came back for her whirlwind farewell tour and came down with the flu. Here was our fundamental difference, when I get the flu, I yell 'woohoo' call in sick, jump on my bike and go down the street. The flu just clogs my nose, makes me feel hot on my head and cold on my back, maybe has a cough and other minor shit. It never interupts a running regime, I quite often would go to work, if it wasn't that between a flu and food poisoining, I don't have many opportuinities to use up my entitlement, and Australia is a fortunate country where colleagues resent you for turning up to work with a contagious virus.
Japan is the opposite, you simply put on a cotton face mask and go to the office to recieve silent acknowledgment of your toughing it out.
Misaki though, became bedridden, only capable of shaking her head, yes or no. Speaking to me through text messages. And getting up in the middle of the night to announce she was dying.
And I couldn't get it. Normally Misaki despite her cute exterior is actually one of the toughest motherfuckers you would ever hope to come across. But she really did interpret the flu as a threat to both her and my life. She told me off for sleeping in my boxers for 'being disrespectful to her sickness' and again insisted on me sleeping on the couch, fearing my future fertility.
And I thought 'Is she gonna turn our kids into pussfags?*'
That was my second doubt.

Doubt 3#: Taste

The Japanese can dress. Infact they are probably the most stylish people in the world and at least 1000 years ahead of the rest of asia in avoiding tastelessness. Garish, Ostentatious, Timewarp and Quaint aren't words that readilly come to mind when talking about Japanese fashion. They may be status conscious with brands but they still meticulously coordinate them. On an individual basis they are quite impressive.
Misaki had fine crazy and elegant clothing, like the off the shoulder polka dot dress she wore when I met her, her double ended long sleeve no sleeve dress. Her silver hightop shoes, pyjamas that offered afternoon tea all over them and so fourth.
But taste is not just limited to fashion and one time at an Australia day party she described her favorite TV programs-
1. Friends
You know what I don't remember but i do remember it was the top 5 programs I would be forced to watch in hell. ANd friends was definitely her number one. Damo gave me a look that moment that said he too was having the exact same doubts I was.

But the point of it all is that apart from me, nobody is perfect, and as far as doubts go, they were all minor things (except for the first one) so in summary I am terribly, terribly alone this valentines day and I miss her a little bit.
Something is upsetting my stomach and I would even endure her medical advice just to hear from her today.
But you know the bitch did dump me, me! Can you believe that? crazy.

*I don't give a shit if my kids are homosexual, so long as they aren't pussies.