Dearest Rachel –
On my way over to the office, I always find myself passing by this long-deserted storefront about a mile away from my childhood home.
During my childhood, this was where the 7-11 was where my dad would take me to get a Slurpee after mowing the lawn, or some other major activity during the peak of summer – which, you might well surmise, is why it became a habit for me to do the same for myself after yardwork at our house later on. I would get baseball cards and other treats there as well, although I would try to give a wide berth to the older kids who would hang out in the parking lot of the place.
At some point before going completely derelict, the place was also a liquor store. Rumor had it that the original owners of the convenience store sold the place after a winning lottery ticket was purchased there, and the award presented to the store was sufficient for them to retire from running the place. But the liquor store didn’t last nearly as long; in fact, at this point, I think it’s been like this longer than it was ever selling booze exclusively.
Every time I pass it as I walk by, I reflect about what a shame it is that it’s not being used for anything. Our village doesn’t have a lot of vacant storefronts, thankfully, but the ones that exist feel like they ought to be filled with something. Now, it may be just because of my travels, but I would wish that the place were to become a convenience store again some day; maybe not a 7-11, since we have our fair share of those, but perhaps one of its more obscure competitors, like FamilyMart (can you imagine being the home of FamiChikki in America?) or Lawson… or possibly SeicoMart.
As I understand it, these stores are virtually exclusive to Hokkaido, where they have a local vertical distribution system that allows them to dominate the game in the relatively hostile environment (in terms of market, terrain and weather) that plagues the northern island. There are a lot of small towns and villages up there where this conbini is their sole eating establishment outside of the home. As a result, they have a near-cult following that might only be partially analogized against American institutions such as Casey’s (for its widespread rural presence) and Buc-ee’s (where people make a point of driving out to them). Wouldn’t it be cool to have one here?
Of course, I know that would be utterly impractical to try. If nothing else, owning a business of any sort would preclude me from doing the traveling I enjoy so much already (and have so much planned for the near – and not-so-near – future); I wouldn’t want to be tethered to a store like this. Additionally, a location on essentially the opposite end of the world would be completely cut off from the network that makes the chain profitable in their home prefecture; they can’t seem to compete against the Big Three in the rest of Japan, so how much less so in the middle of America? And besides, our suburb is big enough that there are plenty of options for diners elsewhere, and small and spread out enough that there’s next to no chance at a decent amount of foot traffic. There are reasons why this place has remained vacant for so long, and there’s nothing I could do to change them, even if I had the desire and motivation to do so.
But I suppose my point is that you would hear this argument out, if you were here, and at least acknowledge that it would be a nice dream if it could happen – especially if you’d traveled with me and Daniel to the places we’ve been. Heck, you might have dragged me into one of these outlets while we were up there, as we actually didn’t stop in one during the day or so we were up there (despite passing by a couple on the Tanuki-dori in Susukino).
***
It’s musing about these things that brought me to a realization of all the criteria I’m looking for in ‘Megumi’ (as always, assuming she exists which, given the growing list of things, not to mention the amount of time spent without her appearing, seems less and less like an assumption I should be clinging to). I’ve already established that, first and foremost, she and I should share the same faith – and ideally, the same church, as it would keep either of us from having to uproot ourselves from where we are or were – but there are things like this where I wonder if this Japanophilia, for instance, would be a necessary component to such a relationship. Not so much otakudom, as such – I’ve learned I can take or leave anime, when it comes down to it, every bit as I was able to jettison sports, for the most part – but a fascination with the place itself and its day-to-day workings. If nothing else, the fact that its cities can be safely explored in a way that can’t be said of those here in America ought to count for something.
The thing is, a lot of dating profiles talk about one’s desired travel destinations being in the wilderness or some romantic beach. And while, to be sure, you were a beach person yourself, after a fashion (the shores of Middle Bass are a far cry from Miami or Tahiti), it wasn’t an exclusive thing for you – after all, Japan was a place you wanted us to take Daniel to someday, once we had the time and money. It’s just that, once we did, there were other things getting in the way… and of course, at that point, we ran out of time. It’s possible that others have a similar eclectic taste in destinations, sure, but when you can’t see it on their front page, you just don’t know.
Meanwhile, I’ve since drifted away from some of the things we used to share together. Some were because they were more your thing than mine to begin with, like game-playing and sci-fi; others because they require at least two people to even work, and others because of the memories associated with them. I’m not sure if I’ll ever find someone to play Cards Against Humanities with again, for instance – or if I’d even want to, at this point.
Then there’s the fact that so many women are, or wish to be, animal people. You spent ages dealing with the fact that I wasn’t one, and after those last nine months with Chompers, I never want to do that again. I don’t know how people deal with it, to be honest, and I don’t want to find out. It does close a lot of doors to say so; but that’s who I am. I can’t pretend to like something I don’t, especially after my experiences.
It’s almost as if I want… a tabula rasa.
***
I think that, in pondering all this, I’m understanding the reasons why older men seek out young women; it’s not just the obvious desire for youth and beauty in their lives, though that is part of it. There are plenty of beautiful façades that conceal ugly, deceptive souls, the sort of creature that Solomon spent what seems like half his time writing his book of proverbs (which is his more optimistic work, mind you!) warning his son about. Nor is it the lively energy and the gee-whiz awe of sight that he has grown too old and jaded to appreciate properly on his own, although that certainly is a desirable quality, too.
Rather, he seeks a mind still plastic with youth and inexperience to give a symmetry to that of his own, so that they can share the various commonalities that are vanishingly rare in comparison to his distaff peers. A Galatea, if you will, who can become an ideal companion and mate; whereas the stuff that he and his generation are made of has calcified to the point of unyieldingness.
I hesitate to say that its about control so much as reflection of one another, or harmony between each other. If you both enjoy (or at least understand) the same things, that leads to a peaceful coexistence. Even if you can counter each other when their enthusiasm is misplaced (like the idea of putting a Seicomart in an abandoned storefront right across from the local Mariano’s – which, by the way, offers its own selection of heat-and-eat meals already, so what value would be added by its existence, apart from filling an empty hole in the local business ecosystem?), it’s not so much of an argument as a simple difference of opinion, which can be resolved calmly between equals.
After all, Eve was not made of man’s foot (so as to be beneath him) nor from his skull (so as to be above him) but his rib (so as to be – literally – at his side). We could agree about this together, honey… but could there be anyone else who would?
