|I wouldn't usually ask for advice, but...|
November 30 2000 at 6:21 PM
|Eubulides of Miletus |
|Hello, I find this site to be in another league from other sites of a similar nature, and it's nice that you can all share a common interest (obssesion?) and talk about it in a mature and often hilarious fashion. Hope I can be a part of it. My name is Jonathan.|
Here's my story;
I'm just a young man, starting out on a Business Course at my local University. On my course is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. I guess you're used to alias' by now, so I'll call her Ayami. Ayami comes from Japan. I've never felt so attracted to anyone in my life. And I've never had a girl from the Orient as a girlfriend before. She has the most deep and (I like the way Kris put it in Tokyo Miki) soulful eyes you can imagine. Usually she avoids direct eye contact, but when we are talking she occasionally will raise her eyes to mine, and I have to stop myself from exhalling - she's so exotically beautiful. In contrast to what Japanese women are apparently like in Japan, according to this site and others, Ayami is a very serious, quiet, but intense character, and yet sometimes her walls break down and she smiles the smile that could inspire a thousand poets. Once she cried in my arms, and I could've sworn everything else in the world stopped for just a minute. I love her. That's without a doubt. I just haven't told her.
I tried romancing Ayami. Once I presented her with a box of roses for her birthday, and invited her to stay at my parents house in the country. She was delighted and we had a wonderful weekend together.
The second time I invited her was just a week ago. In fact, my parents were not there. They adore Ayami and they trust me, so they went on a weekend trip to the South of France, trusting me with the keys to the mansion. During the day I took her to a local farm and we had a picnic near the wheat-field, but as the day grew on, rain started to pour, and we were forced to retire to house. I showed her around my fathers wine cellar and cracked open a bottle of L’Ecole 41 Chardonnay, and watched as Ayami lost her tense usual self and instead became relaxed and talkative. We proceeded upstairs and she sat on the kitchen whilst I embaressingly fumbled around in the kitchen with a recipe for grilled duck I'd practiced just one evening before. As night fell we sat in the living room which had always been my favourite place as a child, with ominous looming windows that so reminded me of what Dracula's castle would look like if such a thing existed. As dusk set in, the room dimmed to black, but both I and Ayami were caught up in the romantic atmosphere of this dark night, with the rain flowing down the windows in rivulets, and the luminous glow of a cloud-enshrouded moon peering through.
I decided to ask Ayami if she cared for me. She replied with an instant 'yes'. I felt hesitant to proceed, I should have been satisfied with that, but
there was more that needed to be said.
"But do you love me?" I asked, with what must have been an imploring look on my face.
She didn't say anything, and continued to sit in silence for a while. And after a minute or so I could see through the shadows that she was sobbing gently to herself. When I questioned her about it, she said that she was crying as she didn't know what to do, and was confused. By this time I needed a cigarette, and I felt like she needed to be left alone in her thoughts for a minute. I smoked, looking out of the windows and across to the broad expanse of forest that silhoutted across the moon, my mind scrambling for the answer to the question of what I should do next. I finished my cigarette. All I could think about was the obvious rejection I had just had. Surely she couldn't care for me if she cried when I asked her if she loved me?
So with that, I was startled when I felt her arms come around my waist. I turned to face her. With tears barely streaming down her face now, she peered into mine with a look of passion. Her face expressed more beauty with the rays of moonlight across it than any Michealangelo picture. With that in my mind I traced the side of her face with my hand and kissed her slowly on the lips. The kiss became more passionate - the softness of her lips made my mind explode like a burning star - and things surely would have led to more, had she not stopped me. I didn't want to pressure the girl I love, so I led her to her room, and said good-night.
It was at 3:00 am that she came into my room. Unable to sleep, with a puzzled brow I had been ruminating over what had happened previously, staring at the ceiling as though it had the answers to my questions written on it. When she came in I wore no suprised expression on my face. I simply walked over to where she was standing in the doorway and lifted her up, and with the greatest of ease carried her over to the bed, and laid her down as if she were an angel. Like the raging storm outside, the night was long and passionate. I will never, ever forget it.
The next day I drove her back to our Universities town. She seemed very happy, and I held her hand. I was possibly the happiest guy in England. However, when we parted and when next we saw each-other again in class, something had happened to her. She seemed almost uninterested in talking to me. After making bare initial chit-chat she sat on the other side of the classroom, burying herself in conversation with her friends. After several attempts to talk to her, I feel like I'm in some kind of nightmare, with the girl I love in the same room as me every day. I tried pleading with her, softly caressing her hands as I explained how I felt. Once when we were sitting in the park, she looked so much like she wanted to tell me something. I fear the worst. Maybe she has a love in Japan. Maybe she's married. I'm not an ugly man. I can't stand this look-but-dont-touch situation. Sometimes I catch her giving me long glances from across the classroom, but she quickly diverts her eyes.
What is her secret??
Is this something to do with her being Japanese?
Did I do something wrong?