I'm not blonde, I'm not short (I'm 5'7") and I'm not skin and bones. On top of that, I don't go around pretending to be overly cute (women like that make me want to smack them with a shovel) and I'm by no means innocent. I had dated men from everywhere, from every social class, including Saudi royality for almost two years...and I've been at escort parties, yachts that were basically $6,000 entry sex parties (no I did not get involved in any of that shit, but I did see it)...so...it's pretty hard to shock me. And I have a very low view of men. I think they're overly horny, rude, with massive egos and by no means give a rat's ass about how women deal with life...and deal with them. So...I can't pretend to be cute...but I am a huge nerd...so I'm extremely dorky. I'll shuffled down a sidewalk, or...like when we finally got to dinner...I walked balancing on my the back of my high heels. Luckily he just smiled and let me in and then I realized which nervous twitch I did, since I was trying desperately not to play with my hair like a 5 year old.
Anyhow..I was not prepared. So I got hammered.
I'm not even joking, that night I had at least 10 martinis. At least. Dinner went well, though I couldn't begin to even tell you what we talked about, only that I had a great time and by the end of dinner I was amazed that he folded the tip into a tiny elephant.
"This is what my people do, " Akira said folding up the money, "We fold paper."
I held the little elephant in my hand and just looked at him and back at the paper, and thought, well he's just a little charmer now isn't he?
But he wasn't, he was just actually that sweet. He was actually a good person. He told me his story about how he grew up back and forth between Japan and the States, and how he was constantly in conflict on how to identify what he was or where home was...and I totally got that because I grew up multi-cultured too. Let me tell you guys something, East and West, it's Black and White. Totally different. And at least the Japanese accept a lot of Western ideas, try growing up with an Iranian father... shit gets confusing. There's even a term for people that grew up multi-cultured, Third Culture Kids. It's where you stop seeing a bunch of small cultures, and start seeing the bigger picture and how everything and everyone is connected in one weird way or another...and it makes you very open minded. So when you grew up like that, it's hard to relate to anyone because people from either one of the cultures you grew up in is too narrow minded to understand the other culture you also grew up in.
So I was really happy, he was very smart, and very humble, and ackwardly funny...and by the end of the night, we came to realize that we were complete dorks. We had ended up at the W Hotel, that has a sand bar on the roof, that I thought would be good for us to go to after dinner. We drank and drank and laughed and laughed...and one thing lead to another, in a mess of confusion...and I ended up waking up at Akira's.
I instantly cursed myself! I was so mad and so upset that I locked myself in the bathroom for a good hour, hung over as hell, only to realize that in three hours I had to organize my girl friend's grad party. So I walked back into the room and sat down next to him...and we tried to remember how we even got there...and where the hell were my pants????
I told him that I don't do one night stands, and he laughed and told me he was worried but that he knew my mother, and that he wasn't in this for a one night ordeal either. I laughed that off, because I couldn't picture him wanting a relationship now with this hung over mess....so I told him I had to leave to do the grad party. He looked at me, and was like, mind if I join you? I was shocked. I thought for sure I'd leave and just never hear from him again. Sure. Come.
And he did, we spent the next three days together, and by the third day, well...we were in a relationship...by the end of the week, he had given me the key to his apartment.
It was all so fast, but in all honesty, it was all so right. We clicked so so so well. He is, to this day, the person I have the most fun, the best person to rely on, and the best lover I've ever had. He was Akira...plain and simple, no tricks, no lies. Just himself, and for the first time, I was myself again. I was painting again, I was reading again, I stopped partying and hating the world, and just started to relax. He took and still takes, me out into nature a lot. And it's amazing...we just...I dunno...breathe out the stress, the saddness, everything. Even my nightly nightmares of getting raped stopped after a month, and trust me, after a good 17 years of having them every night...it was amazing just to sleep an entire night again. He didn't save me...I'm not saying that, but he allowed me to be me and loved me for it...so I ended up stopping the cycle of constantly destroying myself. And he's still here, still my rock and my best friend. I love him. A chance meeting, an arranged dinner, and a drunken night...all lead to being with someone who dealt with all my craziness with a smile. Sure we have our ups and our downs...I'm very insecure and very jealous, and he's got his issues too...but it's really nothing too daming. He's good for me and I'm good for him, as alike as we are, we're different enough that it balances out, and we entertain each other really really well. And well...the sex...I'm constantly all over him anytime I'm around him, poor guy. I'm extremely thankful. We're extremely thankful. Pictures are of us at breakfast, me making fun of his love for maps and using a straw as a pointer, and me doing a face casue I get nervous when he takes pictures of me. And the bottom is us...failing on camera timing.
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