Lost in Translation
First of all, I should mention that I’m an American living in Tokyo, Japan. One day, I was walking home in a busy area when I noticed this cute young guy looking at me. I smiled a bit and walked on. I was surprised a minute later when the same guy appeared beside me and asked if I wanted to get a coffee with him. Usually I would never agree to go out with a stranger, but he was my age, stylishly dressed, and honestly I was impressed that he came up and talked to me without even knowing if I could speak Japanese or not (I can but he certainly couldn’t speak English.) So I agreed.
I thought we would be headed to a normal cafe but instead he led us into an Internet cafe. In Japan, Internet cafes basically consist of little cubicles containing a sofa, TV, and a computer. You can rent a cubicle for whatever amount of time you like, and they are completely closed-in for privacy. So you can imagine the type of activities people use them for. Well, we settled in to one with our tiny paper cups of vending machine juice. He immediately tried to put his hand up my skirt! By this point, I had realized that he was a first-class creep, but instead of getting up and leaving, I tried to distract him by asking questions about himself. All the while I kept pushing his roving hands away from me and downing my drink as quickly as possible.
That accomplished, I told him I had to leave to meet a friend. His response was, “You really have to go?” I insisted and pretty much bolted, determined never to go out with a random stranger again. Unfortunately, I had already given him my number, so I had to endure numerous texts from him for weeks afterward asking if we could go out again.
