He smiles at me as we walk back to my hotel in Shinjuku and asks if he'll make my blog now. I say that it's usually reserved for people that i haye but maybe the fact that he's packing heat in the penis department might earn him an honourable mention.
We giggle and he says that if i stay here and get myself a japanese boyfriend that i'd definitely need something on the side. I said i wondered if the whole Asian penis stereotype thing was true and he says "I've seen 'em, 'orrible little things" in his broad irish accent.
He said that only in Japan was he called John, at home all his friends called him "jonatan". The Japanese pronounced it like "Joh". One short sharp syllable.
Blindee and Joh.
"Or me ma calls me Johnny"
His last name was Savage.
I said Johnny Savage was a great name and that guy would make my blog for sure. Except Johnny Savage was probably a bit of a cunt, i reckon he'd let you wear his "Strangers" jacket then fuck you and never call. I imagined he smoked camel cigarettes rolled into his sleeve. He was one of those rockabilly dancers at Yoyogi park on a Sunday, drinking beers and scowling.
He drove a motorbike, carried a flip knife and knew all about Japanese rope porn. I'd say he exclusively dated white blonde girls which would be why we got together.
But John wasn't Johnny Savage, he was a good Irish boy who liked football and his ma. He had a celtic cross tattoo on his left wrist that he got on a holiday to Greece when he was 17 and another one that was something written in latin down his ribs. It was a quote from his family crest, something about being brave and honest. It was really dodgy but that added to the charm.
I wondered if he liked "dags" or knew much about bare knuckle boxing.
I met him on tinder. I was sitting in a starbucks in Shibuya using the free wifi. The connection was really slow so i couldn't see anyones pictures. I just liked the first 50 people and waited to see what came back. We bonded over the fact that we'd both come to Tokyo to stay with people that we had fallen out with pretty quickly. I told him about the single bed Danny and i had to share and how we were like magnetic poles repelling each other. We slept top to tail and i tried my hardest not to annoy him in his sleep.
We spent the next few days getting drunk on Suntory whisky and giggling on trains, swapping our observations on Japan. I took him to a bar we nicknamed "cheers" because we'd go in and our japanese buddies would chant out names and we'd all do tequila shots. We missed the last train and slept on a bed of cardboard boxes in the street, we snuggled and it was a better sleep than i'd had the whole time in Danny's bed. Next time we were in the area i replied to it as "our house" and he said "welcome home".
We fell into a little rhythm, romance paced like a Sophia Coppola film. I started getting hotel rooms, half to escape the wrath of Danny and half so that he'd spend the nights with me. We watched japanese t.v and picked out words we knew "sugoi, majica, daijoubu" picking up on them was like linguistic Where's Wally.
At night we'd come home and have sex then snuggle. I'd roll over and he'd say "come 'ere to me woman" and i'd think to myself that i could happily spend the rest of my time in Tokyo getting drunk and watching sumo in bed with him.
Two days later he kissed me goodbye and said "i've really enjoyed me time wit ya, ya've been a ray of sunshine". I entertain the thought of following him back to Ireland but I don't like the cold much and i'm well aware that a holiday romance is only ever just that.
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