I went back to Japan with the dimmest hope of rekindling some remnants of the bond Yoshi and I shared, so strong just before I left. However, as I faced my second year in Yamagata, I soon found out that my hope was greatly misplaced and, ultimately, useless.
After I left Japan in October, I entered the JET program with the goal of returning the following August. It was a risk, I knew. Most of my old crew was no longer there and Yamagata could be a desperately lonely place without a strong circle of friends around you. When I arrived in Tokyo for orientation, I found that the other JETs in my program were nice enough. However, once I arrived in Yamagata, I sorely missed Matt, Keith, and my old circle. Though Keith was in Yamagata still, now as a JET as well, he had a girlfriend and spent most of his time with her. The one ray of hope was that my Japanese friends were still there and I loved being able to hang out with them when they were available. But again, since I was no longer at Westin, I only saw them sporadically now instead of daily. This time around, Yamagata did indeed feel desperately lonely, despite my best efforts at getting to know more people.
And then there was Yoshi. We had kept in touch sporadically through email in the months of my absence. Our correspondence during that time was that of friends who deeply missed each other, but not too much more. A particular email chain, though, was an exception to our friendly banter. In it, Yoshi announced to me that he had gotten a girlfriend, about four months after I left by my estimation. He told me that what happened between us had rekindled the desire within him to be with someone. He said that he had no idea if it was good or bad news for me.
Of course, I was crushed by the news. So much of the dynamic between us was based on him not having or particularly wanting a girlfriend at that time, but reading that he was now with someone, it broke my heart that it wasn’t me. Still, I told him it was OK, that I wanted to see him happy. Maintaining our friendship had always been the number one priority for me, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad for his choice. So, I kept a virtual smile on my face through email and nursed my bruised heart in silence.
Even knowing this, I returned to Japan. Of course, Yoshi wasn’t the only reason I was returning — I genuinely missed the country and my friends. Going home was a wrenching adjustment and I wasn’t happy at all. I felt that for my sanity, I had to go back and try to perhaps build a new life. Looking back, I probably should have extended my Westin contract and stayed longer until I found a new job. But Matt was leaving and I couldn’t imagine working there without him. Plus, the JET program was touted as more prestigious with more pay and a far easier workload than at Westin. So I gave it another try.
I had announced my return about a month before to all of my friends still in Japan. Yoshi replied that he was pleased I’d be coming back, but only went on to detail the weather and the issues with his computer. Hardly the stuff of my dreams. Still, I had hope that we would reconnect upon seeing each other and rekindle at least something of what we had before I left a year prior. After about a month after my return to Yamagata, I was finally able to get a hold of Yoshi and nail down a time to meet up. I held my breath the entire day of our meeting, hoping beyond hope that we would fall into something of our old rhythm.
Our reunion, after so much build-up, was delayed and awkward and again, hardly the stuff of my dreams. We met at a karaoke restaurant with one of his new friends in tow, Seth. As I was later to find out, Seth was Yoshi’s new Keith and he was trying with gusto to hook Yoshi up with a woman worthy of his taste, since Yoshi had apparently broken up with his girlfriend. I hated Seth instantly, with his floppy blond hair and grating personality; he was no Keith. I later found out that he was actually a really nice guy and ended up hanging out with him along with the other JETs. But not at this moment. At this moment he was thrusting a hot dagger into my heart deeper and deeper with every mention of some chick who he thought would be good for Yoshi. He was even planning couples’ parties for them, popular among young singles. I felt sick.
We made our way into the restaurant, me with a painfully fake cheerful demeanor and Yoshi unusually quiet. We were eventually joined by a small gaggle of giggling Japanese women that Seth had invited. I could only sit there in misery as I endured both their gushing approval of my “kawaii!” appeal and Seth’s attempts to pair them with Yoshi. I had to go once the karaoke started, to get out of there or I knew I would lose my control. I gestured to Yoshi that I was tired and excused myself from the table. I said goodbye to everyone and looked pointedly at Yoshi, hoping he would follow me out.
He did eventually get up and followed me down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. I turned to him and waited for him to say something, anything about us. But he merely stared back and politely wished me a good night. I asked him if he would like to join me one-on-one at another izakaya, but he politely declined, saying he had to get back to Seth. His detached politeness was a punch in the chest and my heart was slowly being ground to a pulp as I watched him go back up the stairs.
No, this was not going to be the reunion I traveled 6000 miles for. This was going to be an emotional hell.
And it indeed was an emotional hell. My work was mind-numbingly boring after a year of working at my full capacity and beyond at Westin, actually teaching my students and seeing their progress with sheer joy and a feeling of accomplishment. As a JET, however, I was merely a prop in the classroom, trotted out for a couple of classes throughout the day and left by myself for hours with no computer or other means of distraction. I missed my Westin students and colleagues so badly and longed to be a part of that beautiful extended family again.
Socially, my life was something of a wasteland as well. Though the JETs in Yamagata were nice people as a whole, hanging out with them was a pale imitation of the parties we had as Westin teachers. JETs tended to cluster with other JETs, so their social circles were far more homogeneous than my old crew was, with very few Japanese folk present. I missed the crazy nights out with Matt and Keith, Yoshi and Nobu. I missed the pizza parties, which Keith had tried to keep going, but they had become a shell of our past parties. I missed kinyokai and doyokai, hiking and bike riding with Keith and Matt, hanging out with Westin teachers to commiserate, sharing multiple bottles of cheap wine with Matt after a hard day. I missed it all.
But the thing I missed most was my connection to Yoshi. It was like a gaping hole in my life in Yamagata, another essential missing piece to add to the others. The final, most devasting blow came when I found out that the woman Yoshi decided to make his girlfriend was actually….another foreign girl. She turned out to be one of the JETs I used to hang out with the first year; she and Yoshi actually met at a party in my apartment. She was a gorgeous, bubbly blonde of Scandinavian descent who spoke Japanese almost fluently thanks to her Japanese stepdad. I couldn’t be mad at his attraction to her, but I was furious at what felt like a true betrayal.
After all of the hand-wringing angst Yoshi and I went through precisely because he “couldn’t” date a foreign woman, he ended up dating a foreign woman. I was crushed beyond words when I found out. Though I later found out that the girl was a known golddigger and treated Yoshi like a bank, they still had some kind of relationship, which I so desperately wanted with him. I couldn’t feel the least bit sorry for him, but still, I felt rejected and faced living with the painful thought that maybe I just wasn’t good enough for him.
I will admit, I tried to fill this painful emptiness with other guys. When I first arrived back, a soccer player, Tsutomu — who was the Japanese friend of another JET — almost immediately expressed interest in me. Feeling flattered by his attention, I briefly attempted to date him. Ultimately, though, it wasn’t a great fit. In the most awkward moment of our fleeting relationship, we were at a nighttime music festival on Mt. Zao with a group of friends when we ran into Yoshi and Seth. Perfect.
Instead of the “gotcha” I was hoping to flaunt in front if Yoshi in my hurt pettiness, Tsutomu hurriedly bowed to Yoshi and fell, simpering, into the traditional role of senpai, or one lower on the social totem pole, to Yoshi’s kohai, or superior. He knew who Yoshi was and later was floored when I told him vaguely about my history with him, for Yoshi was very well-known and highly-respected in Yamagata’s close-knit community. Facts I had forgotten about until this moment, as I groaned inwardly at Tsutomu’s obsequiousness towards Yoshi. We broke up shortly thereafter.
Since that relationship went nowhere, I decided to try one more with an adorable waiter/host whom I met the year before and who had shown interest in me, Keigo. What to say about Keigo. He was a beautiful specimen of Japanese androgyny, tall and slim with a shock of bleached orange hair and dark blue contacts when I met him. He was the pretty boy face of Yamagata’s most popular restaurant at the time and I had flirted with him every time we went there. He reminded me of an anime character and drove a sick Nissan GT-R, so of course, this geek was smitten with him that first year. We finally traded numbers just before I left and I reconnected with him after Tsutomu ended. Despite my high hopes and love of his androgynous looks, Keigo was a bust as well. He was at once shy and a bit of a dick, and we both realized early on that we weren’t as well paired as we thought. Thus ended Keigo.
With two failed attempts at moving past Yoshi, I was lonelier than ever and quickly falling into a deep depression. A resolve to leave Japan was setting in my heart and it hurt that I couldn’t make this time work. In my sadness, I reach out to Yoshi and asked if we could meet one more time before I left. He acquiesced and we met for a quiet, one-on-one dinner at a small yakitori restaurant. Our conversation was strained and felt forced. We never mentioned the previous year, just traded small talk, which cut like a knife when I knew we were once capable of so much more. The night ended with another polite goodnight and a quick, awkward hug. I watched Yoshi walk to his bike with my heart almost as heavy as it was when we parted at Shinjuku station the year before. I was confused, hurt, and done with the entire experience.
I ended up backing out of the JET program more than a year early, leaving Japan just seven months after my return. It was a devasting blow, one that took years to process and get over. I did, eventually, but I still carry a touch of sadness when I think what might have been had I stayed the first year and tried to make it work. But, life happens for a reason and I ultimately survived and eventually thrived back home, even if it took more than a year to find my stride again and even longer to heal.
The next decade ended up being a turbulent one as I navigated the remaining years of my 20s and entered my 30s. I married Chris about three years after I left Yamagata for the last time. I worked in international education for years and met innumerable amazing people from every corner of the globe as part of my job. I developed relationships with colleagues that became enduring friendships and I reconnected with my dear friends at home. Basically, I lived.
Yet, I’ve carried Yamagata around in my heart the entire time, returning to its rolling hills and mountains, partying with my old friends, and loving Yoshi in my dreams. I cannot complain about where life has led me, for my journey — with all of its bizarre and amazing twists and turns — has been a good one. My time in Yamagata was responsible for opening my eyes literally to an entire world and setting me on a journey that has shaped my life. And for that, I am and will remain eternally grateful.
unrequited 