My Japanese Husband (Still) Thinks I'm Crazy

by Grace Buchele Mineta

  Every once in a while, a honmei-choco is accompanied by a "love confession" where a woman asks the recipient to be her boyfriend. Why? Because on any other day of the year, a girl asking a boy out reflects poorly on the girl. Valentine's Day is a "free pass" day for women who want to make some moves on the cute guy who works at Starbucks, an oddly flirtatious coworker, or a childhood friend.

  Giri-choco(義理チョコ), taken from the words giri (obligation) and choco (chocolate), are chocolates given to someone without a romantic attachment such as coworkers, friends, or bosses. Thankfully, giri-choco does not have to be as expensive as honmei-choco. It is perfectly acceptable to bring a box of wrapped chocolates to the office and pass them around.

  And yes, you do have to give your coworkers chocolate. A couple years ago, I was working part-time at a Japanese company on Valentine's Day. Ryosuke urged me to bring small, individually-wrapped chocolates for all my male coworkers and bosses. I thought that was weird and creepy... but I followed his advice because we were in Japan and I figured he knew best. I was surprised to see that most of my female coworkers had also brought chocolate. The whole experience was a tad bit surreal.

  After a couple small arguments and silly misunderstandings, Ryosuke and I have learned to compromise on Valentine's Day.

  As an American woman, I am not used to spending several hours making chocolate for my husband every year on Valentine's Day. I would much rather buy him a stuffed animal, a scarf, or tickets to a baseball game... but culturally, Ryosuke wants the chocolate. There is something magical about getting honmei-choco from someone who loves you on Valentine's Day, Ryosuke says... So I make him chocolate every year.

  As a Japanese man, Ryosuke is not used to buying/making his wife anything on Valentine's Day. He grew up comparing piles of chocolate with friends from school and betting on who received the most chocolate and "love confessions" from girls. The "loser" had to pay for everyone's chocolate one month later, on White Day (I'm explaining that soon; don't worry). Even though it seems odd to Ryosuke, he always makes sure to make me something (a hand-painted picture frame, a scrapbook from our wedding, matching couple shirts) on Valentine's Day in an effort to be more "American."

  White Day in Japan

  If you've been reading this book and thinking "Wow, it must suck to be a Japanese woman on Valentine's Day" or "Hey! I need to move to Japan!" don't forget women have their own holiday: White Day.

  The origins of this holiday are a tad bit fuzzy, but most believe it was named "White Day" after white chocolate. White Day takes place on March 14th, exactly one month after Valentine's Day. It is a "return holiday" of sorts. Men are supposed to return the favor three-fold to all the women who gave them chocolate on Valentine's Day.

  For instance, if I bought Ryosuke a 5,000yen box of chocolates (very unlikely), he would be socially obligated to give me something "white" valued at 15,000yen (also very unlikely). It can get expensive, fast.

  Common "white" gifts are white chocolate, white scarves or clothing, silver and diamond jewelry, and anything else pale and costly. Ryosuke usually gives me books (the pages are white, so it counts), love letters, and coupons for back massages. I prefer sentiment over cost.

  In the story I told you earlier, I brought a box of chocolates for my coworkers on Valentine's Day. Come March 14th, I was pleasantly surprised to find a small pile of white chocolates sitting on my desk.

  The Pros and Cons of Moving Across the World for Love

  I moved across the world for love.

  It wasn't as irrational and spur-of-the-moment as people might think, though. We both knew what we were getting into.

  As an intercultural couple with two different passport countries, we both knew that continuing our relationship meant one of us would have to eventually relocate to the other's country.

  There are many good and bad things about moving across the world for love. Going into the move, I had grand dreams of studying kanji all night, picking up exotic and interesting foods from the grocery store, and making tons of interesting friends. I imagined working at a global company, changing the world.

  The move to Japan was easy to romanticize, but, like all things, reality ended up being quite different.

  Pro: You get to be together and don't have to worry about regretting "the one that got away" for the rest of your life.

  I remember befriending an older woman at work when I was in high school. She had done the whole "work a high-powered career in New York City” thing – leaving her boyfriend in the process. She made a boatload of money and was approaching her 40s, angry and frustrated that no one she dated was anything like that boyfriend she broke up with to follow her dream. Apparently, he had settled comfortably into life, marrying only a couple years later. Now, he has three kids, a cute house by the beach, and (according to Facebook) a very happy life.

  "I'm not saying you should sacrifice your dreams for some guy," she told me. "But you should try to come up with some sort of compromise."

  I don't know why, but something about that stuck with me.

  I'm not the kind of person who thinks you need a relationship to be happy. But I am the kind of person that believes there is nothing more toxic to your happiness than regret. Regret sucks.

  I also want to make it very clear that I don't believe in "the one." I think there are hundreds of people in the world that have the potential to make you happy to varying degrees.

  While Ryosuke and I both had to make quite a few personal and career related sacrifices for the sake of our relationship, we decided at each step that they weren't sacrifices. They were steps in the direction of a common goal, kind of like how you might go to the gym in the evening instead of watching TV. It's not as much fun in the moment, but it’s totally worth it years down the line.

  Con: You will (probably) be completely dependent on your significant other for the first couple months (and maybe years) after you move.

  By the time we moved to Tokyo, I had been studying Japanese (officially) for two and a half years. I spoke enough Japanese to be able to open a bank account, but not enough to go to the hospital alone or navigate the cheapest cell phone contract.

  Lots of things sucked those first couple months in Tokyo. Being completely helpless and dependent on another person (especially someone who was trying to survive in his first full-time job) was humiliating. I hated it.

  I kept making mistake after mistake. I wore my indoor house slippers in his parents' tatami mat living room (a big no-no), forgot to give our landlord a moving-in gift (very rude), stuck my chopsticks straight up in a bowl of rice (a traditional funeral rite) at one of Ryosuke's work parties, drained the bathtub after my bath (in Japanese houses, everyone in the household bathes in the same water and, in this case, there were still two family members who were supposed to bathe after me), and used a toothpick at a steak restaurant while out with friends (I was later told that was incredibly rude and un-ladylike).

  I felt like I was in a game where everyone knew the rules except for me.

  Pro: You get to live in a new country, experience a new culture, and learn a lot more about yourself.

  You get a chance to learn about a new culture and examine your own, figuring out what makes you, well, you. That's an amazing opportunity. Most people never get that chance.

  It is also a chance to thrive in a new environment and pick up a new skill. For example, I started this blog and published a comic book about my life in Tokyo.

  Other friends have written books, started volunteer organizations, taught yoga, taken up long distance bicycling... this list goes on.

  Con: You probably won't ever feel like you truly "belong" in that culture, and your support system for dealing with this will be limited.

  Sometimes I forget I'm foreign. I'm almost completely self-dependent now, meaning I understand Japanese culture enough to get by.

  But then Ryosuke and I will be out shopping, and a small child will point at me and shout, "Look! It's a foreigner!!" ... a
nd then I remember, "Oh yeah, because I’m white, I technically don't belong in this society and never will..."

  Along with this, it can be difficult to find a community abroad. Naturally, if you move to your partner's home country, they will have more connections than you. You're not only starting over with a completely blank slate, but you're starting over with the odds stacked against you.

  Depending on your job (if you have one), your language ability (if you can even speak your partner's native tongue), and your location, you might be unable to find close friends in your new home.

  That kind of isolation can seriously put stress on your relationship.

  Pro: No more long-distance!

  Because let's face it, long-distance relationships kind of suck. And by "kind of," I mean really, really, really suck.

  If you and your partner live in different countries, one of you will eventually have to make the move. It's not feasible (or fun) to stay in a long-distance relationship indefinitely.

  Con: Moving abroad for love is a huge commitment, and you might wonder, "Did I make a mistake?" or "What am I doing with my life??" quite a bit.

  When I see my high school friends’ updates on Facebook, I wonder for half a second what my life would have been like if I had stayed in America and followed the career path I chose in college.

  Wondering doesn't do me any good, though, so I try to shelve those wandering thoughts. Besides, a good career wouldn't be enough to make me happy.

  I'm under the impression that people need three things to be completely fulfilled in life:

  Relationship fulfillment (relationships with a significant other and/or good friends)

  Job fulfillment (creating or working in a field that you believe in, so you get a sense of purpose and meaning)

  Personal fulfillment (having enough time/energy to pursue your hobbies, try new things, and live the kind of life that makes you happy)

  You can't be fulfilled by just one of these – and you shouldn't try. Being married to the "right" person won't necessarily make you happy, especially if you're in an environment that smothers you. Your significant other can't (and shouldn't) be your everything.

  Con: Your job opportunities will (probably) decrease.

  Some countries don't let foreign spouses of nationals hold a job. If you're thinking about moving abroad, make sure you do plenty of research ahead of time.

  And even if you have a work visa, finding a job in your field can be difficult. Most spouses seem to just teach English (or whatever their native language is).

  When I first moved to Japan, I didn't have a "working spouse visa" for the first four months, and I nearly went crazy. It was so hard. We were living solely on Ryosuke's income (which was barely enough to support two people), and I felt like a failure of a person.

  When I eventually got a visa, I applied to a whole slew of jobs. The only ones that called me into an interview were startups and English teaching jobs, and I ended up only getting job offers from two English schools.

  I took a part-time teaching job at a locally owned English school in central Tokyo. I teach there once or twice a week. It's not necessarily fulfilling, but the pay is good and I enjoy the work.

  I also appear on TV from time-to-time as a "token foreigner" on Japanese programs. I freelance. I ghostwrite for a couple of blogs. I draw comics for a couple of magazines. I self-publish comic books.

  I've built the life I want to have... but doing so took lots of work and lots of time.

  Pro: You get to see a whole other side of your significant other.

  After moving to Japan, I discovered that Ryosuke has a sweet spot for the elderly and a strong sense of honor. He jokingly flirts with retired grandmother who owned a vegetable shop near his house and volunteers on weekends at the community center.

  While talking with his mother, I learned that before he entered college, he wanted to be a police officer.

  I began to understand him a little bit more. Seeing Ryosuke interact with others in a different environment brought out a few personality quirks I had no idea even existed.

  Con: It changes the dynamics of the relationship.

  Changing the dynamics of the relationship isn't necessarily a bad thing... but it's something you should watch out for.

  When Ryosuke and I lived in America, I was the person in charge of booking hotels, researching laws, organizing housing and transportation, and taking care of all the other "little things." Ryosuke spoke English fluently, but he didn't have a car and he doesn't inherently understand American culture the way I do.

  Then we moved to Japan... and he was suddenly the one in charge of all the "little things." He accompanied me to the doctor's (to translate), did all the paperwork for renting our apartment, and figured out the Japanese side of my visa.

  It's easier for him to get a job in Japan; it's easier for me to get a job in America. For now, we've decided to live in Tokyo.

  In the future, we might move to America and, if that happens, we will just need to adapt to the change in dynamics again.

  Con: It puts a lot of stress on a relationship, especially a new one.

  Most people who live in the same passport country meet, fall in love, date for a while, do a trial move-in, actually move in, get engaged, and then get married. It's all done in gradual steps.

  If you're moving across the world for love, you don't get that luxury. You don't get those small steps to ease you into this (mostly) irreversible decision. You just have to jump in and hope it all works out. Or, on the off chance that it doesn't work out, hope that you can still somehow get your life back.

  Pro: It's an adventure.

  I think the best adventures are the ones you get to share with someone else.

  Packing up and moving to a foreign country for love has taught me that the world is your oyster. As long as you can find a job and a couple of friends, you can live anywhere. And, as long as you are willing to sacrifice a bit in the beginning and take a job like waiting tables, teaching English, volunteering, interning, or working in the fast food industry, you can find a job abroad.

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  I don't regret moving across the world for love. I love the life we have built together in Tokyo. It wasn't easy... but the things in life that are worthwhile rarely are.

  Saying "he's attractive for an Asian guy" isn't a compliment. It's actually kind of racist.

  You see, there’s this phrase that bothers me. It generally goes, “Your husband is pretty hot, for an Asian guy.” I’ve heard this from men and women, Japanese and American (and plenty of other nationalities). The phrases range from, “I don’t normally find Asian men attractive, but Ryosuke is cute!” to, “Your husband is good looking, you know, for an Asian guy.”

  It’s weird.

  Or, more specifically, I think it's weird that people find the need to add the qualifier.

  I don't care if other people find my husband attractive. As long as I still find him the sexiest man on Earth, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It's less competition for me, anyways.

  However, if we work under the assumption that my husband has looks in the "above average" category... can’t he just be attractive and leave it at that? Why tack on “...you know, for an Asian guy?”

  Apparently, being Asian counts as a strike against him, like somehow he would be more attractive if only he didn’t have the unfortunate characteristic of being Asian. Or, despite the unfortunate and unavoidable fact that he was born Asian, he still manages to be attractive. Take your pick.

  I’m sure I’m reading into this too much – but the sheer number of times I’ve been told this, from people of all ages, genders, and nationalities, has started to hit a nerve.

  I asked my husband if this bothers him (since about half the time, Ryosuke is standing right next to me when he gets that backhanded compliment). He thought about it for a second and was like, “Eh? Not really.”

  “Why?” I asked, curious.


  “I just hear that I’m sexy. And then I stop listening when they add stuff on the end.” I love his simple outlook on life. It’s a refreshing comparison to my own overly-analytic, anxious outlook on life.

  Whenever people tell him he’s good-looking (for an Asian guy), he’s always like, “I know, right? Thank you!” And then we laugh about it later.

  I think one of the most uncomfortable instances I’ve had was when one of my Japanese (female) friends commented, “For a Japanese man, Ryosuke is attractive. I can see why you picked him over an American.”

  Like… What? How do you want me to respond? I feel so massively uncomfortable right now. That's prejudice toward both Japanese people and Americans. I can't remember how I ended up replying, but I remember telling Ryosuke about it later that evening.

  Please, before you tell your friend, “Your boyfriend/ girlfriend/ partner is hot/cute, for a [insert ethnicity],” stop for a second and consider the fact that the phrase you’re about to utter is actually rather racist. Your intentions might be pure(ish), but the execution is a bit lacking.

  I think my husband is attractive. There is absolutely no reason to add the qualifier, “You know, for an Asian guy.”

  "I'm not a free, walking English lesson"

  There's no easy way to explain this. It sounds rather callous and rude – but I don't enjoy giving what I call "free English lessons."

  I love meeting new people. I don't like meeting people who only see me as someone they can practice their English on.

  As a habit, when someone I don't know comes up to me, introduces themselves in English, and then says something along the lines of, "I want to make more foreign friends" or "I want to practice English with you [because I studied abroad in Canada, went to the US on vacation, etc.]" – I reply in Japanese, insisting I am Russian and don't speak a word of English.