Japanese People: The Average Joe

The average Japanese adult of modern times would not bode well when compared with the great samurai and geisha of the past. They don’t exactly 'fit the mould', so to speak. There is no room in our romantic image of this country’s noble and exquisitely dressed people of past centuries for an overworked salary man in a rented suit, reading comic books in his parent’s basement- where he still lives at age 34. Nor is their room in our stereotypical image of Japan’s proud culture for a Louis Vuiton handbag-totting woman wearing a Winnie the Pooh sweater and furry boots that seem to be fashioned out of shotgun blasted squirrel pelts. Unfortunately, this is where the cruel laws of evolution and adaptation have brought the Japanese men and women of today. Yes, despite the fact that change in Japan occurs at about the same rate as loss of faith in a Riyadh mosque, things have transformed enough around here during the past few centuries for this funny looking gaijin to go “hmmmm?”

To set the record straight, Japanese men no longer carry swords. Years back, they accepted the fact that the pen is mightier than the sword, and have since taken a great liking to comic books. Ahhh… pacifism can be so cruel at times! Japan is the only country that I have visited where comic books are an accepted form of literature for married, perfectly mature (by Japanese standards) adults. In the convenience stores, which permeate the rice fields of Ibaraki like open sores on a Muscovite woman of the night, the men line up at the magazine stands in droves; a thirst for knowledge in their tired eyes and curious anticipation racking their brain, wondering what will happen in the latest issue of “Curious High School Girls Will Do Anything!” Employees read comics at work, students read them at school, and teachers read them late into the evening while burning the midnight oil at work. There are comic books for all ages, personalities, and interests; young, old, innocent, virtuous, and, well, the not so innocent and virtuous.

Judging by their choice of comic book, it is safe to say that most Japanese men are perverted. I hate to be one to generalize, but it is true. Japanese men are perverted. Well, we men in general are perverted, but in the swimming pool of perverts that is life, the Japanese men seem to float to the top. Put a beer in front of a Japanese guy and the topic of conversation immediately changes to the size of the nearest foreigner’s ‘unit’. Put a second beer in front of a Japanese guy, and he’ll start to point at it. Put a third beer in front of a Japanese guy and, well, that’s when one has to break out his limited karate skills. They have a serious inferiority complex to say the least. This is why, during December’s teacher’s trip, I was reluctant to get within 100 yards of a public bath with anyone employed in my school division. Fortunately I made it out alive.

Going to the local bar however, can be just as perilous as the public bath, despite the fact that, rather than being naked, a few thin layers of cotton and denim separate me from the probing hands of the drunk and all-too-interested Japanese alpha-male. I could not begin to count the number of times that a drunken man has hugged me, touched my nose or hair, or put his hand on my leg, much closer to my hip than my knee- if you know what I mean. Having experienced being the only foreigner in a ‘middle-of-nowhere’ Japanese bar catering to sake-slurping, bi-curious farmers, I can now truly empathize with a woman who, at one point or another in her life, has been the only female at a drunken frat party where the stereo is blaring Metalica, the TV is showing wrestling, and the air is thick with the testosterone of sexually frustrated men who haven’t been getting any. I feel your pain, girl!

The strangest thing about the aforementioned habits of the typical Ibaraki beer guzzler is that these sexual advances and invasions of personal space are so contrary to the overall culture. As I’ve mentioned before, Japan is a country of contradictions. While pornographic comics and anime are rampant, showing affection is kept behind closed doors (if it happens at all?). Japanese culture, like an old grumpy miser staring, sour-faced, out of his window at the beauty of life, frowns on all public displays of affection. A friend of mine was recently ejected from a Japanese person’s house and told quite bluntly to “never come back” after he made the mistake of putting his arm around his wife in front of the hosts. His own wife! This may be an extreme example of one crazy man’s refusal to have affection shown under his roof, however, to this day, six months into my Japanese experience, I have not once seen a Japanese couple kissing in public (outside of the more liberal metropolis of Tokyo, anyway - but even there, PDA is a rare sight). I rarely, if ever, see a couple holding hands. They don’t even shake hands. They rarely pat each other on the back. They never hug. Outside of major cities, they don’t even dance together!

In the dance clubs in my prefecture (which are few and far between), the males and females stand apart from each other on the dance-floor and ‘worship the DJ’- in other words, ignoring the opposite sex, dancing in their own private groups facing the music maker, and trying, with all of their might, to fight all natural urges. In related news, concerned by the aging population and shrinking birth-rate, the Japanese Prime Minister has recently made a plea for couples to have children. It all starts in the dance clubs Koizumi! It all starts in the dance clubs!

The behaviour of young Ibarakinites in the dance clubs is quite typical of their non-aggressive courting strategies. As far as I can tell, Japanese men DO NOT approach Japanese women who are strangers. How do they meet each other, you ask? Well, in many cases, they don’t. Because Japanese society revolves around the ‘group’ as much as the life of a dung beetle revolves around finding a new, fresh place to call home, fraternizing with people outside of one’s group is rare. As group members introduce friends or relatives from other groups to which they belong (ie- bringing your work friends to your pick-up volleyball game), the group expands, and the chances of meeting a possible love interest increases. For those poor unfortunate bastards who don’t belong to enough groups, well, these are the people who live with their parents well into their 30’s.

Living at home until the gray hairs on your head outnumber the black ones is not at all uncommon in Japan. Japanese men, you see, are unable to care for themselves. Without a woman in their life, either a mother, a grandmother, or a wife, they are as helpless as a drunk with no arms; unable to acquire the things most essential to them in life. Hence, Japanese men live at home until they get married. If marriage doesn’t happen, well, I guess they take cooking classes. For those men who marry but lose their wives before their own death, sympathy flows like a river of pain. A widower in Japan is said to be one of the saddest people imaginable; sadder even then a clown with no one to entertain.

If a Japanese man is fortunate enough to find a compatible wife, don’t automatically assume that he’ll live the rest of his life in appreciation. Many Japanese men treat their wives like a ‘live-in’ cooking and cleaning service- only they don’t have to pay them. Furthermore, cheating on your wife is nothing to be frowned upon; a practice that is as common today as it was when Japanese men would spend every available hour and dollar on their favourite local Geisha.

My friends and I met one such interesting character- a womanizing and neglectful husband of the highest degree. His name is Isaka-san, a middle-aged man with a smooth, round face and glasses far too hip for his graying complexion. He, who not only has an interest in women who aren’t his wife, but also in foreigners, happened to be frequenting the same ‘middle of nowhere’ Japanese bar where we found ourselves one evening. Isaka-san was in this small town bar, not with his spouse, but with his girlfriend, making absolutely no attempt to hide the fact that he is having an affair. His wife, who was probably at home picking the lint out of the tatami mats, is likely aware of his indiscretion, being that word travels fast in a small town (especially when you meet your lover at the only bar for miles!). However, she would have little say in the matter. After meeting people like Isaka-san, one gets the impression that being in a Japanese marriage can, in many instances, be a lot like being a gay man in the U.S. military; in other words, ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’.

Isaka-san, whose sexual preference we of course questioned after he behaved like most drunken Japanese males, spent the rest of the evening buying us food and drinks and bragging about his many exploits with lady friends. His girlfriend, who was half his age, was more excited than a dog in heat to be sitting beside her ‘man.’ At one point, and this is no word of a lie, she pulled out his bottle of Viagra from her purse and proudly showed us the blue pills which turn Isaka-san into a regular Don Juan. Ohhh… isn’t love adorable! Kids these days….

And this, in addition to the fact that men in the countryside will urinate wherever and whenever nature calls, has been a nutshell description of the typical Ibaraki man.

To give you an idea of just how fascinated the Japanese are with comics, I have attached a few pictures taken from a series of history text books found in one of my school’s classrooms. To make history more digestible for students, the history curriculum involves this series of comic-book texts, displaying, in drawings and small dialogue bubbles, the history of Japan. And, of course, I wouldn’t attach just any boring old picture- but drawings of the important, mythical creators of Japan - having cartoon sex! Ain’t learnin’ fun these days!!