Goodbye, Blue Dress

Goodbye, blue American Apparel Double U-Neck Cotton Spandex Jersey Dress. You were always a little too tight and never stopped sliding up my thighs. But inexplicably I reached for you time and time again, and somehow you became my most loyal friend. Looking back now I can't believe how many nights we shared, and how vividly I remember.

Though under a sweater or blouse you passed for ordinary, you were the sleaziest dress I ever owned. Perhaps it was your hidden sleaze that helped me become my sleaziest self. For that notion, blue dress, I will honor you always.

I wore you under my big yellow sweater in the white-hot nucleus of my youth, living on moyashi and whiskey as I swam the streets of Tokyo. 

I wore you to Ni-Chome under a black-and-white tartan top that didn't look good with anything else. That night I got so drunk I failed to take a restroom selfie and took a nap in a parking lot. I never wore that top again. 

I wore you under a flea market cape on a date with an arrogant music exec who took me to an expensive bar and talked about himself for hours.

On Halloween night in 2010 I had no plans, and I wore you with maroon tights, black pumps, and a gray sweatshirt slashed at the collar. We went shopping in Shibuya and smoking in Shinjuku, where I befriended the enigmatic gutter host named Junkie Kou. 

So many years. So many memories. 

And then one day last week I wore you to a cafe in NYC and realized your shoulders had lost their shape. Inching up my thighs was one thing, but flopping down my arms? I knew it was time. You've reached your end, my wonderful, sleazy blue dress. I will remember you always.

Not everyone can live forever.

LEST YOU FORGET

What, you don't love me anymore? YOU ARE MISTAKEN & I WILL CORRECT YOU.

I am the sweater king, I am the bathroom photo king, I am the snow prince when I feel like it!
Ever so more where that came from.

NI-CHOME PART-NI

Probably the most accurate so far in this series. I had been up for about 24 hours and was running on a pint of whiskey mixed with like, fruity Calpis or something? I know. Believe me. It took some serious peer pressure to choke that shit down in the middle of the street.

Special thanks to this guy for stopping with his posse to fab up the occasion. Free publicity for you, my fleeting friend:

That night was fuckin crackers.

How do you get your kicks?

Again. If I'm always broke, how/why do I go out so often? Because. My talent in life is getting away with things, I know how to be cheap, and I have no problem skipping bills and groceries. The fact is, it's extravagant to make a habit of going out on a part-timer's budget, especially in Tokyo. But I can't stay in my room all the time. I would get sad and crazy.

Free: Long walks, libraries, reading magazines in 7/11, sitting in the park, window shopping, nanpa fishing, restroom photography.

Cheap: Flea markets, casual sex, shitty chain cafes like Doutor and Mister Donut, first-time deals at host clubs, Starbucks, one or two drinks at a cozy bar, McDonald's, a small purchase at a crafts store, carefully budgeted house parties.

Overpriced but difficult to live without: kissaten, delicious coffee anywhere (incl. train fare), reasonably low-key nights out.

Painfully out of my price range: Books, music, movies.

be right back

I really do take a lot of photos of myself in restrooms. Maybe I kind of love restrooms on nights out. Especially the first time you go in once you're in the place and you can hear the people and music outside kind of muffled, and you don't know who your friends will be talking to when you come back out and you're checking your look in the mirror. It's a great moment. Am I right? Plus after I took photos of myself in like three different restrooms I decided I might as well make a habit of it. Here's last night.

Ni-chome

Shinjuku Ni-chome is Tokyo's gay entertainment district. There are like 300 gay bars and clubs packed into like a five block area. In the last 20 years it's been maturing as an LGBT social and cultural hub, with pride parades, an LGBT community center, and other events and hot-spots for queers in Tokyo.

I finally made it out to Ni-chome a couple of weeks ago for an electro party at a small club I liked a lot. Like most such neighborhoods, Ni-chome isn't exclusively LGBT. It's got a festive reputation and attracts a wild, open-minded crowd. The area is compact and it felt like a block party, noise and movement in the narrow streets all night until dawn. But all I have to show for my first night in Ni-chome is this creepy restroom photo. I take an awful lot of self-portraits in restrooms, you don't have to tell me.

Men/Boys/Girls #1

Remember when I was always complaining about being broke, and then I didn't complain about it anymore? Did you notice?
A sugar daddy is a rich guy who showers a younger girl with money and gifts in return for companionship. My sugar daddy "hired" me as an "English teacher," which meant he wanted me to look pretty and meet him twice a week to walk around arm-in-arm, go to the movies and have fancy dinners. He paid me a fixed amount every time we met, sometimes extra, and usually brought me flowers and gifts. I never so much as kissed him and I got about 120,000JPY/month. For like a month.

Sugar Daddy was a Japanese CEO in his 60s. He was handsome enough, fit, and he wore good suits. Not my favorite suits, but tailored and Brooks Brothersish. I love suits and read GQ and critique them on trains, but I can't say what a suit says about a man. Every older man I have ever known who wore a suit all the time was boring or an asshole, usually both. Foreshadowing.

It was the hardest job I have ever had. We had nothing to talk about but he wanted me to talk the whole time. He was always acting mildly displeased by random things I said. I mentioned that I did taekwondo and he said "I don't know about such a strong womans!" I said I liked art and he gave a strained smile like he knew my kind. He liked Mariah Carey and romantic comedies. If I couldn't think of anything to say fast enough he would lean back, look at me critically, and ask, "Bess, are you tired?" I'd have to smile big and cry, "No! Just relaxed!"

The outfit and face I wore the first time we met (I know, brillz)

He spoke English well, but the gap between his speaking and listening skills was incredible. I've been doing classroom and private lessons for a long time now but it was enough to put me at a loss. Every single thing I said had to be repeated so many times. Once on the train I almost cried because he made me say something like "I ate pizza there" in a loud voice for almost five minutes. But he never wanted anything that would actually help his English.

He was always suggesting shopping trips and gifts for me. It's unbelievable, but I didn't take advantage. His money saved me, but gifts, I couldn't deal. Once he took me to an amazing stationery store and told me to pick anything I liked for me and my friends. I was so uncomfortable, but he started acting irritated that I wasn't picking anything, so I took two cards. He was pissy for like ten minutes and wouldn't stop asking why I don't like gifts.

Don't just say it with flowers!

One night over blowfish he asked me what he should give me for Christmas. As always I got super awkward. Under pressure, I finally confessed that I like art supplies. He decided that because I'm a writer, I need a fountain pen. I have no use for a fountain pen. I tried to explain that I am the kind of "writer" who scrawls 50 pages in cheap notebooks every night (then sobs "NO GOOD, NO GOOD, NOT A GENIUS" and goes to bed), and the pen would waste ink and soak through the paper. But he just got really patronizing and said I didn't understand the value of nice things.

I decorate bars with nice things.

The next time we met, he took me to Tokyu Hands. I was done for. The thought of him buying me gifts was nauseating until the gifts were art supplies. So I picked a sketchbook, and then I went to pastels and started choosing colors I needed.

His reaction was crazy. "Bess! What's this? Why you want such a things? It's such a small things." What?! I was confused by his irritation so I quit with two colors. He asked "How about pencil?" I didn't realize he meant pen, so I was like, sweet, graphite pencils. But of course he was even more disgusted by those. Finally he steered me to the pen case and basically bullied me into this 17,000yen Waterman fountain pen. Then he bought me a leather case. He spent so much money on me but he just wanted to buy what he wanted to buy for me, whether I was interested or not. I imagine that's how it often is with sugar daddies.

(Not that I wasn't happy with that bag of stuff once I got on the train, and the pen is very pretty and I bragged to my friends, but I never use it. Then there are the bears)

Sugar Daddy worked me to my last nerve. I was always waiting for the Moment. On our second date he couldn't find the restaurant and when we went down a street with a few love hotels I almost had a heart attack. He had a habit of starting sentences with "So, Bess..." followed by a long pause and my stomach dropped to my heels every time. It's not that the thought of sex for money freaks me out that bad, but not knowing what I was in for made me anxious.

Still, he was generally civil and polite to me and supported me when I was down to my last 1000 yen and rent was due, so I did my best. I never gave up on trying to get to know him, looking for things we could talk about. And after the pen, I was even thinking I could try to roll with some more shopping.

Then, one day, Sugar Daddy tried make a date with me a few hours in advance. I don't do same-day meetings because at any moment I might be passed out in a bed across town next to my dead phone. By the time I caught up with my messages, he had called me twice, left messages, texted, and sent two emails. The last email said, "Beth, do you live in the Mars? How can I reach you quickly?" UM, TRIPLE MY PAY IF YOU WANT ME ON CALL, IDK. I was really soothing though and wrote him that I can't always get my calls right away and that's why I don't do same-day appointments and I'm really sorry blah blah, and suggested a meeting the next day. He replied, "Sorry, I'm busy. Maybe another time." I wrote him another apology and never heard back. That was the end.

I was mad and offended, which is how I can make such a shameless post! I think he was unreasonable and unprofessional. He offered me a long-term arrangement and then dumped me when I didn't answer the phone fast enough. One more jerk in a suit!

Clearly I am not cut out for the Sugar Daddy business which is a great disappointment. I always wanted to try it and thought my dream had come true, but it turns out I can't cooperate with it. I tried so hard and it was frustrating. How difficult can it be to let someone buy you things? Does anyone want a pen for 5000 yen? Because I'm broke.