October 3rd - afternoon

Keiko succeeded in getting us an early lunch, and we also took off early for the day too. I couldn't be any happier as I step off the bus and make the short walk to my apartment complex. It is not even four in the afternoon yet. Finally, for the first time in weeks, I'll be able to sit at home and watch more videos on MTV Japan and Space Shower TV. Seriously, sometimes it really helps with the pain. There are some freaking hot guys in the music industry here.

Also for the first time in weeks I have mail addressed to me. Even if it's junk, it's still intended for me. More than half the time Kimberly ends up throwing mail out. With her mad skills aside, there are some things that we just can't read. So far no repercussions. And we see our neighbors throwing out some of the same cards and pamphlets all the time.

I punch in the numeric code on the keypad that unlocks the door to our apartment. It sounds like nobody else on our floor is home, except for the single bald man I saw outside walking his cute little dog, Niji. I also haven't seen any of our landlord Ichiro in awhile. We did get a notice on our door announcing the new rose garden he planted by the front gate last week, though.

The door opens and in my excitement I can do so many things at once: kick off my shoes, turn the TV on, throw my sweater on the couch. I tap the channel-changing function without looking, pointing it over my shoulder as I tear open a package of microwavable yakisoba. I'm going to have a pretty awesome day.

I have just broken up my cheap wooden chopsticks when I remember the purple envelope I left on the coffee table.

"Kronos Heaven - For Members Only

To: Cheryl Niigaki"

It feels as though it has a CD disc inside.

Kronos Heaven, at first, was actually pretty cool. I figured it was a trendy business based in Tokyo, as most trendy things usually are, that sells every form of intriguing novelty. Months ago I posted on a Japanese BBS board looking for information about unnatural hair coloring, and got a PM back from an anonymous user recommending Kronos Heaven. I looked at the website, and the mission statement had something to do with devotion to making people's wildest dreams come true.

So with membership and almost ¥20000, I dyed my hair here at home by myself, in the bathroom sink. In one day I got sleek, shining silver hair, and indulged in two hours of vain modeling in front of the mirror with a fan blowing. And going from black to silver is a process that can take up to a year. Or more.

Dreams come true? Miracle-working? Sure, I'll buy that.

Then they started sending me discount ads for pills, creams, and dietary supplements. Oh well. I suppose what I got was more than worth it.

Do I trash it or not?

I notice that I have a new message awaiting on MySpace as I sit down to my laptop. I thought I was through with this stupid site after all the breakup drama -- and holy shit was there a lot of breakup drama. That's what you get when you date one of the most popular guys in school, during your senior year. I know I really had no business being so shocked and hurt over it.

But I wonder….

No, stop, Cheryl. This is a bad idea.

Friends. Find Friends. Search for people. Browse by age, location, etc.

My fingers are trembling. What am I thinking?

Although, it's not like anything's really changed. He probably hasn't even checked MySpace in months. More than likely it's the same picture of him posing at our Senior Class Party. The really hot picture of him posing in a tank top, I might add. I'm sure the most visible damage that's been done on his profile was changing his Relationship Status to Single. Right?

Why do I even want to look at this anyway? Is it because I think I'll look at him differently after I've hated him for the past year?

I can't even open my eyes as I type Kenichi Sato in the search field. What's going to come up? Is he happy? Has he stopped smiling because he misses me? Did he post a blog about becoming a better person? Or has he forgotten all about me?

Tampa. He's in Tampa, Florida. He's gone to University of Tampa, to major in Financial Services Operations and Systems. Oh, that's nice.

Nice that he's in this picture getting drunk off his ass, kissing this stupid blonde Barbie chick.

That fucking JERK!

That is so not cool. That's not even nice.

I have this flashback of us skipping out on the Asian Heritage Club and going to the bleachers on the sports field to make out. We're sitting there talking about nothing, holding hands.

"I don't like those cheerleader types at all. You know, those shallow chicks with the blonde hair and the whorish boots who wear American Eagle?"

He laughs. He has rows of beautiful, straight white teeth, and a baby face too.

"You're obviously not one of them, but I'd like to hear why," he says. His voice is gentle. He's a very softspoken guy, but when he gets excited he sounds like a mix of a five-year-old and a pumped-up jock right before a football game. He throws out Japanese phrases too. It's adorable.

"Oh, because growing up in Texas they picked on me a lot, and gave me a lot of shit, just because I look different."

"I'm happy you're different." He squeezes my hand. His is large and slender, and fits so well around mine. It makes me feel as though I'm being covered by a warm fleece blanket. "You're a gorgeous mix of Asian and American genes. Someday you'll realize you're better than ordinary girls who all look and act alike. Then they will no longer matter to you, and you'll be happy. Besides, the only person whose opinion should matter right now is me. And I don't want anyone but you."

And now look what happens.

My hands shake and I grip the edges of my screen in fury, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

I had a boyfriend who was perfect, dammit. And I wasn't exactly the worst girlfriend in the world, either. What on earth is so wrong with me that he'd leave all our moments behind for some fat slut?

Breast enhancement pills? Acne creams? Weight loss supplements? Fuck it, I'll buy it all. If Kronos Heaven could transform my hair from black to silver within a day, surely they'll be able to identify whatever the hell my massive deficiency is.

The first screen flashes an irritating purple and pink, to the extent that I'm glad I'm not epileptic.

I click English.

You're just a few clicks away from finding the ultimate lover of your dreams! Just click Start Questionnaire and you're on your way to romantic bliss! 3

Really.

It seems to me like they're starting an online dating service.

Free three-day trial!!

Ah, that's how they get you. Hair dye was expensive enough as it was, and so is the rest of the junk they send out ads for every so often. And yet there are no membership fees for Kronos Heaven because they seem to think that their products and services will sell themselves.

I sigh as I think of scams like this back in the U.S. Miss Cleo anyone?

I most sincerely doubt they're going to find me the Ideal Boyfriend in a matter of three days, the only length of time I'm going to give them. And if they do, sure, I'll pay the astronomical amount of money for more information. Money won't be any object. Because it's never going to happen anyway.

So. Question One.

What is your ideal body type in a man?

Not surprising there.

It turns out this questionnaire is pretty damn lengthy. It takes me some hours to go through more or less a thousand questions. But finding an Ideal Boyfriend based upon my 1,000-plus strict criterion, within three days, is their problem, not mine. And the easiest solution I can think of on their part, is to hire a male escort from one of those trendy clubs in Tokyo. Thanks, but no thanks.

But even then, after awhile I had started being a smartass and told them I wanted someone with a soaring-high IQ but not more intelligent than myself. I officially have to be smarter than Mr. Potential Right. I'm not going to risk getting lied to and betrayed again. I'm gonna be on top of everything.

Soaring-high IQ with incredible martial arts skill, multilingual, can cook like a professionally trained chef, with a hot model body, likes video games, won't look at other women, open and honest, and performs so well in bed that the sheets catch fire?

That eliminates, like, every man on the planet.

Good luck, Kronos Heaven.

And finally, give a detailed description of your Ideal Boyfriend's physical appearance, and/or click on one of the fifty default images below, to give us a better idea.

The pictures are all undeniably cute, as much as I hate every male on the face of the earth right now. Some are blond, some have crazy spiked hair, some have ponytails, some have military cuts. Some are white, some are dark, some are obviously Asian. It's a rainbow of men, in a non-gay way. When I was younger and desperate for a boyfriend of any sort, my head would have been spinning at the prospect of being with any random one of them. I didn't know there were so many ethnic flavors working in Japan's escort business these days.

"My ideal boyfriend is handsome in a classic way, but not a clean-cut stereotype. Also I like Korean drama actors. They are a really popular trend lately."

Which they are, actually. I saw a bunch of subtitled Korean dramas on display at the DVD store the other day, and Kimberly's brother is extraordinarily hot… while he's also in and out of trouble with the law, unfortunately.

Good lord. I need to take a nap. Looking at men, and thinking about them, can be pretty exhausting.

I wonder if someday I'm just going to have to become a lesbian.