TAMING OF THE SHREW

John of Vancouver

March Review 2001

 Some years ago when I was a younger man my father gave me this advice: “Son,” he said, “It is just as easy to marry a rich girl as it is a poor one.”

 My friend Nick, who is a little longer in the tooth than I, upon hearing this story declared it a strange coincidence since his father too had given him such advice. What can this mean? Well, it is pretty obvious that fathers are fairly mercenary regarding their sons nuptials and don’t mind their gigoloing themselves to some unhealthy specimen if she happens to be well endowed with her daddy’s cash. Now, in the unlikely event that there happens not to be immediately available some rich man’s daughter when you are crazed with thoughts of marriage, the alternative is to marry a Japanese girl. I am convinced of this and if I had to do it all over (marry that is) I would certainly follow my own advice. Allow me to explain.

 Two weeks ago I found myself sitting at the Doutoru Café in the center of  Tokyo, girl watching. Japan is absolutely bursting with young chicks that are easy on the old eyes. I sat at a table near the corner window to afford myself an unobstructed view out onto one of the busiest and most affluent street corners of any world-class city. Beautiful girls flitted in and out of the crowd, briefly passing by as I watched them over a cup of American coffee. They are nearly to a one - slim, elegant and chic.

 They are everywhere, these beauties. Large department stores employ them to run the automatic elevators up and down, just to provide customers with something lovely to look at. On the trains hostesses walk up and down the aisles selling snacks and drinks, including beer. The first person you’ll see in any business office is a twenty-something lovely hired specifically to set you in the right frame of mind. She smiles subtly, then, with an upturned palm, points you in the direction you should go. She always smiles.

 Japan, I have come to learn, is a most civilized country. Adults do not presume to impose their will upon others. Rather they live by the universal motto ‘Sho Ga Nai’ or ‘Such Is Life’. One may drink in public without being harangued by a self-righteous busybody hell bent on saving you from the demon rum. 

Along any street it is common to find vending machines that sell beer, yet you will not see drunks staggering about, because it is just not done. There are reserved areas and times for this sort of behavior. Not only is drinking allowed in public, but also so is smoking and, evil of evils, looking at girls. The Japanese smoke in restaurants, they smoke on trains, and they do so freely. Those who might object can go to hell or non-smoking restaurants (which do exist, but not many). The Japanese have a higher standard of living than in Canada, make more money, and live longer as well. This must be so because they take normal human vice for granted whereas in Canada (and elsewhere in western countries) the act of being human has become almost a sin in itself. It is much preferable, in Canada, to be a screaming homosexual than to admit to smoking or womanizing. The latter is to be abolished while the former a recommended life choice for prepubescent teenagers.

 As I sat, facing the corner of the busiest intersection in Ginza where all the best shops can be found, it occurred to me that there was not one ugly girl in the café, and it was full of them. I am not talking here about a special coincidence either, but rather the common girls, sprinkled like cherry blossoms throughout cities and towns, are elegant, of unquestionable beauty, dignified and carry their youthful looks well into their years. To borrow a phrase from Tom Prideaux (Life Magazine’s entertainment editor back in the 60’s), Japanese girls are a national treasure, demure and chick.

 While the average Japanese girl is sexually coy and dresses up to go out, even to do the daily shopping, by contrast North American girls will instead, often, dress down. Take a look at the way young girls dress for a night out in Toronto, New York or Vancouver and, with rare exception, they look like tarts-in-training. Too much makeup badly applied, and their clothes, well, where does one begin? It’s hard to suppress a laugh when they roam the streets dressed in their father’s pants and t-shirts that barely hide a pair of flabby unsupported haggis (or is that hagii?). Is it really too much to expect that girls over twenty, whose breasts can no longer support themselves, bind them in some undergarment rather than kicking them along the sidewalk with their sneakers? I ask you?

 Another point of difference is that Japanese girls are approachable. They may well refuse your advances, but they will always smile beautifully nonetheless. Western girls, by comparison, rather than being flattered by a gentleman’s interest, will often give you a well rehearsed scowl which is inculcated into them by ugly feminist teachers who have no chance of procuring a man and are damned if you’re going to either. It’s a wonder that men and women meet in the Canada at all, it being practically illegal to approach the gentler sex. It is no defense that young men are genetically predisposed to leering and howling whenever they spot some tasty young morsel traipsing down the street.

 In demeanor there is also much difference. Japanese girls are coy, but never promiscuous. They understand that they are women, and as such, different from men. Western women, on the other hand, are taught that to be equal they must behave like men, which is both unattractive and unnatural.

 Japanese girls are compliant, they know their place as women, and generally acquiesce to the wishes of their man, but not indiscriminately so. Canadian women will bring their marriage to ruin to prove some insignificant point, or just because they are bored. It’s enough to put any marriage in distress and is proven by our national divorce rate. 

 Thankfully I’m not in the game anymore. However, whenever I do spy an opportunity to put the moves on another man’s wife, inevitably from out of nowhere my wife appears and cuts me off at the knees. How does she do know?

 It must be one of those woman things. A wife can sense her husband’s indiscretions like a shark smells blood - only sharks are more merciful. They may only take a leg whereas a woman will take your house, your motorcycle, the children and loot the bank account.

 My advice to young girls who seek to improve themselves is this. One, beautify yourself in the classic sense. Do not follow the example of sluttish Hollywood starlets who can’t differentiate between foie gras and pork pate.

Second, keep a still tongue. We don’t care what Oprah has to say and we most certainly don’t want to know about your girlfriend’s latest bout with weight loss. The old adage of ‘speak when spoken to’ will serve you well.

 Third, pretend an interest in your man’s hobbies, even if you don’t know the difference between a number four Doc Spratley and a Tom Thumb. We don’t expect you to know these things. These are complex and difficult matters, which is why men do them and women don’t.

 And here endeth Dr. John’s marriage counseling session.

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 EXIT STAGE RIGHT, AND STILL LAUGHING

 While researching through the internet I came across this little gem which I thought I’d share with you if only to prove that Canadians, unlike the Swedes, haven’t completely lost their sense of humour.

 OFFICIAL CANADIAN BEER STUDY: HEALTH CANADA

 Yesterday, scientists for Health Canada suggested that, considering the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer, men should take a look at their beer consumption. The theory is that drinking beer makes men turn into women.

 To test the theory, 100 men were fed 6 pints of beer each within a one-hour period. It was then observed that 100% of the men gained weight, talked excessively without making sense, became overly emotional, couldn’t drive, failed to think rationally, argued over nothing, and refused to apologize when wrong.

 No further testing is planned.

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