You want sordid details?

You sick fucks, of course you do!

Although, I'm warning you now, this isn't going to be one of those "Oh my god, like I like got soooo like wasted and totally like forgot where I was, like total mind blank!!!" *insert girly giggle here*

There is nothing girly, or giggly or even funny about this story. I don't think I was even actually drunk at the particular time it happened, but it was a period in my life where I was drinking literally every day at some point, and usually to the point of no return. Drinking in moderation is fine but when your life becomes one big vodka-swilled mess then you know you're losing control.

I think I knew it was time to turn my life around when I was sitting in a Royal Host restaurant, drinking red wine at 8 in the morning after drinking all night, I had cuts on my fingers and I couldn't remember how I got them, I was dirty, and drunk and I couldn't focus on anything in front of me because I was that tired and drunk. I was planning to 'roam the earth,' I actually pictured myself just stealing money, or living off my credit card until it got rejected, and running away. I now see it was me trying to escape reality but in my fuzzy mind, I was really going to fuck off to Brazil at some point with nothing but my passport in hand.


So, you asked for it, and I aim to please, but I have requests...

-Don't tell me it isn't that bad, it is.
-Don't leave a comment just to try and make me feel better. Say something meaningful or keep it to yourself.
-If you know me in real life, don't ever mention this to me, it will cause me to probably just cut our friendship off due to sheer shame.
-"Judge not, lest ye be judged..."


I'd blocked this memory out of my brain, similar to children who go through traumatic experiences and then totally block the event out, I hadn't thought about it in years, but my recent job at the sports stadium happened to be in the area I used to live and I walked right past the spot where it happened. I stopped dead in my tracks when I walked past the patch of trees, I actually stopped and let the memories flood over me until I literally cringed and hurried on. But it was too late, the memory was back, as far as I'd pushed it away and tried to replace it with images of motherhood and marriage and making a home, it all came back to haunt me. I actually felt physically sick, like I used to feel every day from too much vodka on an empty stomach.

I don't even know how to begin to explain the story without looking like I'm trying to justify my actions, so I guess I'll just do my best and write it how I remember it...

It was a warm night, not quite the sweltering hell that is Osakan summer, but warm enough that I was out riding my bike in the evening. I'd been to the big-ish shopping area about a 20 minute bike ride away but had come home empty handed, I can't exactly remember but I think I was looking for a birthday present for somebody. I was cycling on the wrong side of the road that I needed to be, but I figured it was a main street so I'd just cross at a light when it was green and I had the chance. I'm not one to bike slowly, I always overtake old ladies and if I have a clear path I go for it, what's the point of riding a bike if you're not going to get there quickly, may as well walk. So I was cycling pretty fast down the open footpath, it was definitely dark because I remember the orange glow of the street lights. I also had ear phones in, as I always do whenever I'm cycling, but I felt a presence of somebody near me. Because I could see in front of me, I sensed it was from behind.
This often happens, some Junior high school kid rushing to get to his next tutoring session or old woman on a bike who is in a big hurry to get home, they come up behind you and when you've ridden a bicycle on the streets long enough you develop some kind of radar and know to move to one side to let them pass. I did this but a bike kept coming in to my peripheral vision, kind of bobbing forward to be equal with me but then pulling back as I did. Now this isn't that unusual either, being foreign leaves you open to all sorts of people randomly stopping you asking what country you're from or wanting to gaijin hunt you and suck the English from you without coughing up cash.

Now I'm all usually good with this in a normal situation like in a shop or when you're already engaged in a conversation with someone, but when I'm riding a bicycle and have ear phones in, it clearly should mean 'do not disturb this gaijin,' no? Anyway, I was hoping if I ignored the bike long enough, it would give up and pass me. He didn't, and finally I had to make eye contact and take my ear phones out. I wish I hadn't, I really do. I wish I could have done what any sane woman would do when she was being approached by a stranger at night and told him to fuck off before giving him a clothes line to the face with her handbag. But I have this horrible habit of always being, well... nice. Don't get me wrong, if someone is being an absolute fucker outright, I can easily get pissed off, but when it comes to manipulative people who are being seemingly nice, for example, sales people, religious people, and apparently, random men on bicycles... I'm such a push over, I can't tell people to fuck off if they're being nice to my face. It's something I really should work on, I'm a salesman's dream!

So anyway, it becomes apparent this guy wants to talk to me. So I chat away for a few metres, still riding my bike. He asks me all the usual gaijin questions, Where are you from?? Australia is such a nice country isn't it!? What do you do here? Do you like Japan? Until we get to the main intersection, where I tell him I'm going to cross the road and go home. He then says something like "Can't you chat for a bit longer??..."
I honestly can't remember what this guy looked like, I remember he wasn't old, but not that young either, I'd guess about my age (22 at the time) but J-guys always look so much younger so for all I know he could have been in his 50's. The only thing I remember about him: He was wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt. Of all the distinguishing features I could have remembered, it was fucking Mickey Mouse. I really don't like the Japanese trend of adults wearing Mickey Mouse clothing, it annoys me for some reason.

I'm not into picking up guys off the street either, I should point out. I was in no way looking to pick him up, I hadn't had a shag in a while but there was no way I was that desperate. But then, looking back, maybe I wanted... attention...? affection...? something other than alcohol....? Because if I really hadn't wanted anything, I would have just kept riding, wouldn't I?
After stopping our bikes, we chatted for, I'd say, about 15 minutes, the conversation was wearing thin due to the fact that he was a complete fucking stranger, and also my sketchy Japanese at the time and his total lack of English. When I started making the body language that people use to make a move home, this is when it got bad. Sordid. Scary.
He took the key from my bike, telling me I didn't have to go home yet, that I had time to talk. He wasn't threatening in any way, he took the key in a joking way, but when I laughed and tried to get the key back, he wandered off with it, jumping the stone wall and into the dark patch of trees. He told me to follow him.

I did.

You'll have to wait for part II, I have to teach a 7 year old the difference between a square and a triangle...Plus my palms are all sweaty from thinking about this again!