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Once upon a Cozy Corner
A writer's experiences and thoughts in an Akasaka, Tokyo cafe

 

Sitting in a Guinness-induced haze, once again contemplating the realms of beautiful women that come flitting past my seating place oblivious to the lonely man that sits therein.  

In the ‘Cozy Corner’ of Akasaka where an unruly mix of the young and old, the fresh and the weary in the process of or waiting for the dance of love to begin.  Some will wait forever, slaves to their wallflower tendencies.  Here beside me sits a yukata-clad image of what most Western men would think of as the dream Japanese girl although she is well into her 40's. A professional no doubt.  Who does she wait for and what will be the result of her waiting?

All the waitresses in this coffee shop could be looked upon as cute and at least attractive. But one has caught my eye in a way that makes me want to stay here and watch her work.  Once more the eyes are averted, not even allowing for the simplest exchange of glances.  I can see that an easy smile comes to her lips. But what does she think of this madly scribbling gaijin. Sordid, unclean, dork, nerdish, or something else? Once again a plain old salaryman comes in with a slim, flawless young girl.  When? Where? How? 

Ah! The call of the cell phone takes away the yukata.  Now the seat beside me is empty once more.  Allowing for the dream that some young, attractive but lonely female will sit down letting me offer to soothe her pain, banish the isolation and for at least one night let her know that there are in fact, nice men out there she does not have to be afraid of. And perhaps, just perhaps there is a woman who can restore my faith in the world instead of breaking it down with every other word.

A Cozy Corner is an ersatz French patisserie in the midst of an Asian city. Nothing so much personifies the clashing of East and West.  This could be in Paris or London or even Vancouver except for the overwhelming presence of very fashionably dressed patrons. Everything in the establishment speaks of money in generous, easily available amounts.  Does the atmosphere in here seem to scream economic crisis? What economic crisis? Across the way sits a very slim but well-endowed woman dressed all in black.  She is waiting, waiting for someone or something but the unhappy look on her face indicates she will be waiting for some time.

I am joined by a young couple; at least the man seems young, judging by his looks and rather childish laugh. The woman is older and somewhat large, reminding me of the girl at summer camp who could have been my first love but whom I rudely rejected because I couldn't bring myself to go out with such a person.  Maybe I should have looked in the mirror and taken what came to me. I wait a bit longer to see who will appear on my left side.  

A large number of the patrons here are in their 30s establishing the tone of the place. This is the land of the desperate.  Their 20s now gone, they rush around madly looking for that elusive partner who will keep them safe through their older years. The next table has now been occupied by a very unlikely couple. I hope to hell that he is her father. Interesting to note that they are speaking Chinese, which sets them apart from the regular crowd. I manage to elicit a little smile from my sweet little waitress, which puts a little grin on my face that doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.

The ratio of women to men in here seems oddly even.  Though I may be the only Caucasian in the place and definitely the only one sitting alone madly scribbling away on a Palm Pilot.  Is sitting here just a waste of time?  I would like to look upon it as one of those relaxing mind-enhancing evenings that Europeans spend in their coffee shops and soft jazz bars but in this money-driven place you are either on the make or available for sale if you are alone.  However, so far no one has mistaken me for that.

Ah! Now the lady in black has checked out, heading for places unknown. Has she found a lover to put that little extra cash in the bank? There are thousands of people around here who have it more times in one month than I will have in my lifetime.  As some say, you probably get jaded after some time but at least you avoid the anger, frustration and loneliness of never having ANY! Where is the love that will open the door? Where is the love that makes me cry out for more? Where is the love? Where is the love?

Set up. Set up pure and simple.  Here I sit sipping my tea alone and across the other side of the glass partition sits a very attractive girl all by herself obviously waiting for someone to come up and say hello. Do I risk my marriage at this point to go around to say 'Hi'?  No doubt this would be to the great amusement of the two obatarians (an almost derogatory word used to describe middle-aged Japanese women) sitting across the way.  How long is she prepared to sit there? She does not seem to be particularly happy.  Striped blue-white shirt and pierced earrings, a very tasteful little watch that accents the slimness of her arms. 

Once again the eclectic mix of young and old come here for the old dance.  But unfortunately I don't know the steps. If I were single the next step would be simple: ask her if she is waiting for someone.  If not then ask her out for a drink. Does she want me to ask her or what? Why now when I am feeling the most relaxed and self-assured does this situation occur?  What makes it impossible of course is the fact that I have to be up and gone at 7:00 tomorrow morning.

Goodbye sweet waitress, it is time for me to go.  To face the demons that manifest themselves in an empty hotel room.  Once again to listen to the cries of passion from the next room. Why am I still alive?  

 

 

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