Many years ago, back when I was living in Japan for the first time, I had this strange experience that I doubt I will ever forget. In time, I’ve come to learn a very important lesson from it. I only understood it much later, though, because this was a lesson that takes time to properly understand.
In 2010 I moved to Japan to study one year at a Japanese university in Kyoto. I left in August 2010 and came home again in 2011, in late November or early December, I think.
It was an eventful time, the earthquake of March 2011, the tsunami and Fukushima crisis following the earthquake changed me a lot in many different ways, but more than anything I truly came to appreciate and love Japanese society, the country and its culture.
This is not about that period in time, but if it had not happened, this story would never have happened either.
One day I might share my story about those days, because, make no mistake, I was a different person because of it. I will tell you a few things though.
It was a tragic time and many foreigners living in the dorms were terrified. Some left without anything, leaving behind their whole life in Japan and everything they owned.
Some sat crying in the hallways, some laughed about it all.
I even got sent iodine pills from my embassy.
My dorm was practically deserted in the end. We were only a couple of students left, but the dorm manager and his wife took such good care of us, that it felt like we all became much closer – a family.
Until the dorm managers wife passed away we sent each other gifts and letters and I visited them every time I was in Japan. They were, as we affectionately called them, our Japanese parents. I miss her dearly.
In many ways I felt more capable and strong because of everything I went through during those days. Before, I was afraid to speak even a single word of Japanese, but after everything, I even made friends who only spoke Japanese. We became friends, I think, because I was more open and less scared of making mistakes. Some of those friends I still talk to and treasure today.
I loved being there so much, probably because I opened up to life in a new way, that I decided to stay as long as I could on my Visa.
When my university courses ended, I moved into a Hostel and lived for free in exchange for cleaning and light work every day. It was a strange experience, but it was great and I love that I dared do it.
I quit after a couple of months and moved out to live with a friend in their house in the country, which was also a great experience. Her father-in-law was a rice farmer and they always had the most delicious rice. I fell in love with rice in a way I never thought possible during that time.
In Kyoto, I used to go to a family restaurant called Volks very often because they had extremely cheap coffee and free refills. Many people from my group of friends went there and on that day, I went there too.
I had coffee and chatted with a Swedish friend because, but we had to leave while it was raining because we had made plans to go to a club that night. Usually, we would have waited until the rain stopped.
I cycled everywhere in Kyoto, so I cycled that day too and by the time I arrived at my Hostel, the one I worked at, I was soaked and freezing. It was autumn and chilly, but not very cold.
I showered to get warm and changed my clothes. I think I wore my glasses, even though I usually never did back then, but I was tired and didn’t feel like going out because of getting caught in the rain.
The rain had stopped by the time I left, but everything outside had that watery shine that it has when it has rained. Rain is my favourite kind of weather, closely followed by snow. I love the smell and sound of rain, but getting cold and drenched makes me want to stay at home drinking something hot.
I took the bus in case it would rain again.
It was one of my last nights out, because I was going to move to the rice farmers house just outside of Kyoto, so I went out even though I wasn’t feeling up to it. I thought, I would just take the last bus home and rest.
I didn’t.
Things changed.
The first part of the night was pretty boring and normal. I soon felt a bit cheered up, though, when we went to the club I felt excited. I had heard the entrance to the club was pretty cool because you had to walk through a hallway of light and it looked like there wasn’t any door.
They said it was like being on a spaceship.
Okay, I admit it. It wasn’t excited about the club itself… I was just really excited about the entrance of light! It was just like being on a spaceship!
The club was called Butterfly and, even though the entrance was pretty cool, the club itself was weird. People weren’t allowed to take photographs or dance.
Yeah, no dancing. It was so confusing to me, because when we got in there was a dance-floor and several people dancing. I remember looking from the printed A4 papers stuck to the walls with “No dancing” (and several other rules as well) written on them, to the people dancing, and back to the papers. I didn’t get it.
There was a lot of seats for girls only and I sat there a lot of the evening with a drink and smoked cigarettes. I did dance a few times, in spite of it not being allowed, but people kept touching my hair asking if it was real and it made me feel awkward.
At some point I had this strange feeling, I looked around, and I saw the prettiest boy in the world. He was probably Japanese and that was probably the only reason I didn’t dare talk to him, because oh boy, I wanted to talk to him. I was just too nervous. I always get nervous and don’t know what to say when I like someone.
It feels silly to write, but it felt like in the movies. When our eyes met the whole world grew silent and I felt only the two of us were even real.
I was young. Yes. Young and foolish. That is probably the reason nothing similar has ever happened to me since that day.
At some point that evening, I remember these two Americans came over and hit on my friend and me. It was the strangest thing. In the end, I could only accept two drinks from them to make them leave. I wasn’t interested, and my friend wasn’t either, but she left me to dissuade them from pursuing anything. I feel like I spend an eternity trying to make them go away, and most of that time I spent refusing drinks.
In the middle of me refusing their drinks, I looked to my left and saw that pretty boy sitting at the bar looking at us and our eyes met. For an instant, I wished that he would come save me from awkward conversation I had been caught in, but of course he didn’t.
Re-focusing on the conversation with the Americans felt as though I literally had to pull myself away from his eyes.
I felt like that whole evening was me trying to work up the courage to talk to him. I remember sitting at the women only seats, leaning against the table separating the seats from the rest of the club and the pretty boy leaning against the same table on the other side. He was so close all I had to do was move my hand a few centimetres and I could touch him.
We didn’t talk. I was too scared in the end. I left with my friends when the club closed, and my they all teased me because I hadn’t had the courage to talk to the pretty boy I liked.
At the time I felt sad about it, but I also thought I soon forget about it.
I got separated from my friends just after leaving the club and by text we agreed to meet on the corner by a restaurant that was still open. We wanted to eat before going home.
I was standing outside alone, when I looked inside the restaurant, disappointed to see no seats available. Then, I saw him again.
He sat inside, eating and laughing with his friends. He looked even more pretty when he laughed. I considered talking to him then, but I was even more scared now that I had this second opportunity to talk to him. I panicked and hid in case he looked out the window. Yes, I hid like a child.
I didn’t want him thinking I was a stalker and it was purely by chance that I was there.
Later, when I had found my friends, we went and got food and tea at a convenient store by the river and sat there, even though everything was still wet from rain. It was cheaper and there were still no seats in the restaurant.
We sat there, laughed and talked about the night, when suddenly the pretty boy and one of his friends walked by, chatting as well. When the two of them noticed me and my group of friends, they immediately stopped talking and, awkwardly enough, my group of friends all stopped talking too.
I felt like it took an eternity for the two of them to pass by, all of us desperately looking in different directions in complete silence.
It was the third time, third place, I saw him and as he walked by I felt it was my last chance to speak to him. But… the situation was so awkward and painful I could barely raise my eyes.
When they had passed by, all my friends starting laughing and talking about destiny. They all found it funny, but I just felt sad and embarrassed.
In the time after I moved to the countryside, I didn’t get to spend much time in Kyoto, but every time I was there I looked around hoping to see him. I never did. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to recognise him. I know that today, I can barely remember what he looked like. I doubt I would have been able to recognise him even the next day, but that didn’t stop me from foolishly hoping I would.
I remember facts; like he was tall for a Japanese and very skinny, his hair was not too long and not too short. I remember his jumper, the outfit he had on and how he moved his arm when he put on his shoulder bag. I don’t remember what he really looked like, though, and I’m not sure if I ever did. As time passed, he became something else. He became a dream that never really existed.
But I have never seen anyone as beautiful as him and for a long time after, every guy I met I compared to his beauty. They all fell short. One day I gave up ever finding anyone as pretty as he had been, because by then I realised there was no way I had a realistic image in my head. Even today, I still compare those I meet with how I remember him, the pretty boy of my dreams. It’s stupid, because it’s like comparing a real person to a shadow, and then preferring the shadow.
Years later, I still hadn’t forgotten him nor had I gotten over my frustration with myself. I promised myself that I would never again act cowardly in the face of any chance of love and ever since, I always approached every possible relationship with openness and fought for it every step of the way. I never ran from an opportunity no matter how terrified I was.
I don’t think that was the lesson I ought to have learned, however, because we don’t have to try if we don’t actually want to.
It has caused me much heartache over the years, but up until my last relationship I always stood by it. I don’t regret my choice, because from never backing down, I learned something valuable.
Since I ended my last relationship, I started to think that I was wrong to fight so much for just a chance of love. I felt, perhaps, it was better that I never talked to the pretty boy, because this time, I felt my broken heart might never heal. The pain I’ve gone through during my last relationship was indescribable and it made me scared that I might ever even like someone again. I never wanted to like or care about anyone again, not because he didn’t care or broke my heart, but because I abandoned myself to be what he asked me to be.
Silly me, doing such a thing. But, I thought I had to not give up. I thought giving up on something, even if it was bad to be in, would be against what I had learned from that pretty boy.
I learned something else, the real lesson here is that we should never be too afraid to pursue love, but we should not pursue everything that might be love or pursue it simply because we call it love. Even if we never back down from love because of fear, we can’t stay in something simple because we have named it love. Calling something love doesn’t make it love or keep it from dying.
Love is always worth it, but if we do not value or take care of ourselves, then it is not real love.
I know I won’t make the same mistakes again, but I’m still afraid. I don’t ever want to like another person and yet… I don’t want to never like anyone again.
I barely made it this time, in fact I still worry if it was too late and I will never be okay again, but I have to hope that I can piece myself back together once more.
