Queer's Prodigious Pair: JAPANESE BAE! #TitsInTokyo

My happy place: Between her legs.

Living in Japan was one of the first countries I loved to hate. It's like a dream come true and my worse nightmare all in one sleep cycle. Although I had already lived in neighboring South Korea, I was about 3 years into my long-distance relationship (LDL). Quite frankly, I was just over being IN THE CLOSET. My heart truly goes out to those who can't afford to just be who they TRULY ARE because of where they live. As a young adult who grew up in the heart of the NYC village, I would often find myself pitying untold gay truths walking around Japan in tight-ass suits, countlessly bowing at one another out of traditional normalcy. 

 Honoring the visibility of my LGBT Community in Japan.

I, honestly, feel like the streets of Shinjuku and the community bath onsens really helped fine-tune my gaydar. Regrettably, at the same rate, I would feel even more frustrated for almost instantly being aroused from vivid memories with my then-fiancee that were jogged on impact.  I'm not exactly willing to shout this loud enough for the covenant of nuns in the back, so come in a lil' closer for this part: ONSENS were my GUILTY PLEASURE. Wait now! Before you accuse me of being that perv, or assuming that I am one of those lesbians that wants everything with a rack, cool your mental heels.

I'm the kinda person who truly enjoys being free in every sense of the word. Summers in the states would often welcome my solo trips to beaches with no restrictions for bikini-wear. When I lived in Spain, I would spend most of my time on nude beaches. Naturally, when I discovered low-key, clean, quaint, respectable and discreet bathhouses in Japan, it had my name written all over it! I can't help the fact that at that juncture in my life some disastrous ingredients included:

• a Horny-ass-toad
• a starving Vegan
• Skype-Sleeplessness 
• and ROOT CHAKRA BLOCKAGES!

Luckily for me, my embarrassment wasn't visible. HOWEVER, my pheromones were bringing all the ladies to the pond! For real. It never failed that when I went alone, I was a walking piece of artwork. Before I could fully enjoy my naked tidbits floating around la-la-land carelessly, I was met with the dainty hand of a Japanese woman touching my hair, then reaching for a boob! Surprisingly enough, I ain't know whether to let her go for it or let my NY reflex kick in. Yeah, I chickened-out and politely moved her hand with the typical nervous smile/chuckle thing that we do, ya know.  My queer, puppy love glow was appealing! I guess its the way I carried myself. I was collecting all kind of stares and compliments. Oddly, that didn't tend to happen when I was with my Japanese counterpart. Now, as for the single time I took my then-fiancee, I just ain't have a clue as to why most of them were staring Admittedly, there were just soooo many apparent reasons. More importantly, all that really mattered was that feeling like I was over-the-moon in love with being free to roam and engage with the one woman I would soon call my own. DAWN. 

Probably how we looked to others as a mysterious Queer couple 
in a Japanese bathhouse.