Tokyo Damage Report

roppongi scene report.

 

roppongi scene report:

i’ve been reading some of the ‘gaijin forums’ (i.e. places on the ‘internet’ where foreigners living in japan can post their opinions on anything at all, which ends up being like 90% ‘yeah i have so many girlfriends’)

anyway, i was intrigued by all these ‘internet pimp’ guys. their tales of ‘japanese girls are so easy bro’ are eerily similar. for one thing, they aren’t boasting like you’d expect them to. it’s not, "yeah,i got so many broads. . I’m so much more of a man than you!" the attude is usually like, "so i was on my fourth slut of the night and, aw man, why even bother going into detail? you guys know how it is, right? every American guy is doing this." what? huh? the assumption seems to be that getting like a new girl every day was like SO EASYAND NORMAL that they don’t even have to explain how they manage it. and that’s the other thing all these internet pimp guys do — they’ll tell the sexual details but omit the shit about how they met her. it’s like, what? where do you find these women? like, are you so hot you can just walk down the street and say hi to random girls and they the girls are like, ‘well good day to you too, mr. Internet Pimp! let’s fuck!’ or do you find them in a senior citizens’ home? or do you just sit by your lonely ass macintosh and type endless bullshit about the life you wish you had? or what?

so, after i got done mentally murdering these douchebags with a Plus Three Halberd Of Reaming, i had to ask myself . . . are they just total internet losers who are making all this shit up? or does tokyo, like every other city, have a place where straight people go to have sex with each other for no reason? both of these scenarios seem depressingly plausible.

anyway i asked some of my friends about it and the consensus was that this kind of stuff happens in Roppongi. So i went there to see if it was all like old crusty businessmen with crazy 15 year old trannie-looking whore girlfriends, or what. thus. . .

Roppongi scene report.

if you’re a lady : cleavage. I swear I saw more attempts at cleavage in one night than in my whole year in Tokyo. And not just on the foreigners either. if you’re a japanese, you can rock a low-cut shirt and pretend to have cleavage too. the result is not sexy, it’s more like ‘just plain adorable!': like a little kid with a towel for a cape claiming he’s superman, all running around. but if the cleavage was merely ‘adorable,’ what was bust-out sexy? AUNTIES. the only Japanese women I saw who were even remotely slutty were ALMOST ALL over 40, but dressed like Britney Spears or some other pre-teen sexpot. I have never seen this look on Japanese women anywhere else, and I never saw it in Roppongi on a woman under 40. roppongi is like the home of the NASTY AUNTIE, so like Flavor said back in the day, "consida yourself warned".

If you’re a guy: be over seven feet tall. I swear to god the white guys here are all even supertaller than all the supertall young Japanese guys. Or maybe I’m just shrinking, but either way it is unreal. also, be handsome and have your shirt too tight. one of the few tasteless things I DIDN’T see here was hella old white guys with young cute asian females. In fact most of the couples here, the foreigner and the japanese were equally young and stinkingly attractive. Whether this is less repugnant is still up in the air.

the only exception to this rule is: old japanese dudes with grim white girls in miniskirts, at whom one is tempted to yell "DOSVIDANYA!" in a misguided attempt to lighten up the situation. this is not a good idea.

if you’re a cop : CLUBS. but not the billy variety. i swear i saw 5 cops standing in the busiest intersection, holding around 40 golf clubs. did they just raid some golf-smugglers? Awesome.

if you’re the lady on the train next to me : be like 8 feet tall, tan as a bear, and wearing the shortest miniskirt ever made, and a baseball cap pulled all the way down over your face. I could have sworn she was a drag queen but her legs had like no muscle whatever. Her posture was all crazy because basically she had no torso- just all neck and legs and long flapping arms. Finally I decided that she was Rodan, The Flying Monster.

RESULTS:

anyway, my take on The Slut Legend is this: I’m sure some fraction of the Roppongi Japanese are there to ‘hook up,’ but this fraction is not as big as the proportion as the foreigners, so who is really the slut? This goes for foreign women also. The biggest, nastiest hoebags there were totally white people type broads who had their shit hanging all over, boobs all escaping from their necklines like so many pink CHUDS poking out of manhole covers, all going ‘RAAAAAR.’

So it’s dumb to make generalizations about Japanese people (for example that they are ‘easy’) based on Roppongi only. Not only is it like judging everyone in America by Las Vegas, but it also shows you’re a dorky gaijin who is scared to visit anywhere in Tokyo that isn’t dominated by foreigners.It’s just that Roppongi is the place that sluts (regardless of race or gender) go to do their thing. Also, guys who brag about that shit on the internet are missing the point. Saying “hey, I nailed some broad I met at a place where people specifically go to have sex with strangers! How awesome am I??” . . . that is not awesome. If you have sex with someone you met at a nunnery, THAT is awesome.

Also, bragging about your conquests on the internet doesn’t make you seem like a pimp. It makes you seem insecure, like you’re desperate for everyone to think you are all that. If getting laid was REALLY no big deal, you wouldn’t think it was special enough to write it down.

Also, you’re an asshole.

3 comments

3 Comments so far

  1. Bruce January 18th, 2014 12:34 am

    You just sound like a miserable old bastard. No offense.
    Let people do what the fuck they wanna do. Its none of your business bitch.

  2. admin January 18th, 2014 9:00 pm

    @bruce: thanks for proving my point!

  3. daniel January 31st, 2014 10:28 am

    I agree with every word. Wish I read this before going there.

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