Warning: I am an artist. This will be a girly and sentimental take.
I got off the plane in Tokyo on a sunny May day, expecting it to be like any other summer. I'd be spending time with my mother, going shopping and catching up with my high school friends, and working at my usual part-time job as a teacher's assistant for Elementary Music and Art. I'd once again be free from college life for three and a half months.
It may sound like I've got my life under control, but the truth is it's a hot ass mess. I don't know what I'm going to college for other than to go to dance classes and socialize with my friends. Maybe once in a few months I learn something that's actually valuable to me. The only true passion I have is music, but I have no support from my family when it comes to my music, making it very hard for me to pursue it.
So I'm stuck.
It's my fourth year. I'm supposed to be graduating like most of my high school classmates. But I'm still stuck in college because I have no idea what I'm going for or where in life I'm headed. I changed my major from Music to Philosophy thinking I'd be happier, but nothing's changed. Frankly, while going to college, I am miserable.
I also take French in college, and during the break I decided to take some fun courses at this little institution in Kannai. I met him when I was simply sitting in the lounge, waiting for my first class. From that day on, he'd always greet me, I'd greet him back, and there wasn't much to it. Then one day I signed up for a grammar class which he happened to teach. It was nice to see a familiar face.
And so the weeks went on. I'd start wearing makeup to class and began to enjoy my experience there. But somehow I was clueless about the feelings that were growing inside me. Thinking back to the time now, I don't know why I didn't realize.
During the last week of classes, I finally realized what I was missing out on - yes, the last week. But, like any sane person would, I told myself to brush it off and let it go. We live in different worlds and I'd only be here for a little longer. Besides, anyone would consider it to be wrong. I thought I'd be fine, but days passed and I couldn't get him out of my head.
On the last day - a Saturday - I went a few hours early, expecting to not find him there and peacefully letting it all go. He wasn't there. I sat and waited for about thirty minutes until I decided to leave.
However, as I was headed towards the elevators I miraculously bumped into him. I knew I had to take my chance right then, and so I decided to say what I had practiced many times in my head - but my mind went blank and my French would not come together. So I ended up asking him out in English. At least I had the guts to speak, right? He said "yes", gave me his card, and we parted ways. I did it.
On my way back home on the train I took a look at his card... And realized there was no phone number on it. It did however have his email. I highly believed that I'd been rejected.
So, for about half a week~a week I pondered and pondered about whether I was rejected or whether I should email him. I Skyped with my best friend back in Hawaii who said it could be that it wasn't purposeful and that I should email him. Thankfully, he was right (lesson learned: always listen to your best friend).
My former teacher replied in a day (which felt like a week of waiting) and let me know when and where I should meet him. My little Roman Holiday getaway was just yesterday in the morning (I called in late to work). I'd initially asked him to "lunch or dinner" but he had to leave for Hokkaido later that day. So I glammed up (lightly), caught the train, and met him outside a cute little Starbucks. I payed for our drinks and we sat facing each other at one of the tables away from the window.
Overall? It was the best date I'd ever been on. He actually turned out to be more than I expected. At the school he'd seemed like a serious guy, maybe even a bit reserved, but our conversation flowed so well, we talked about EVERYTHING from growing up, hobbies, traveling, disinterests, teaching. We gave each other advice. We found we had common interests like literature. And I found myself laughing from time to time because he turned out to be very charming and funny - again, not what I expected.
In the single hour we had before he had to catch the bullet train to embark on his trip to the north, we learned almost everything there could be about each other. In the end it felt like I'd known him for longer. So it was the end of my dream. I payed for our drinks. We walked to the station together and got on the same train. We sat side-by-side and he made me laugh some more. The ride to my stop was too quick. We said our goodbyes and I walked away.
To close the journey I emailed him that I had a good time, that it was all a nice dream, that he was an impressive guy, that I wish we had more time to get to know each other. Lastly I told him to have a safe trip. He told me I'd made a good impression on him and wished me luck on my singing job this weekend. Neither of us mentioned keeping in touch. He probably didn't care enough, as for me this was all just a dream I'll eventually have to wake up from.
A part of me believes this isn't the last time I'll be seeing him. Perhaps when I've finally figured out my life, once I'm free to be out in the world, and I've brushed up on my French I'll find myself in a position from which I can reach higher and make it work with him. Perhaps. Or I may decide to leave it as a beautiful memory. All I know right now is that I am not going to stop myself from bragging about the strength and courage I have. Hopefully it will teach people (including my younger, shy self) that you can't have what you want unless you take action for yourself. You make your own dreams come true, however insignificant or small they may seem.