In The Arms of Your Significant Being: Sayuri

Two months after we broke up, I met Sayuri for dinner. We had written each other a few notes back and forth and upon my return from Santo Domingo, she wrote that she’d be happy to be there for me if I wanted to talk.

I talked to her about what I felt and experienced in Santo Domingo. The finality and how the entire ordeal was anti-climatic. I actually think Sayuri was surprised that I had actually gone through with it.

We caught up on what had been going through after our last time together. Sayuri mentioned that she had been with someone and it seemed a rather intense relationship. I caught her up on the dating I had done and my current status. I think she rather enjoyed the evening and was actually surprised when she admitted that I was the only individual she kept in touch with [so to speak] with whom she had a relationship. I didn’t ask, but couldn't help wondering what it was that was so special [if indeed that’s what it was] about me. Could it have been the time we spent together? I’m not sure.

Sayuri mentioned that she wasn’t aggressively pursuing a relationship as she had done in the past. She was more for just letting things happen. She was seeking someone with whom she could have a deep connection. I felt sad when she said this. I took it as admittance that she wouldn’t ever have those feelings for me. Perhaps she’s right, but it’s always sad to hear it. It was similar to the subtle hurt West evoked in me from time to time when she spoke of her search for a soul mate.

I value how Sayuri has come to be a part of my life. I think of her often and wish I could spend more time. I also feel sad every time I see her, as it’s a reminder of how she can exist without me being part of her life. Perhaps in the end that’s what she's seeking--to be in the arms of someone whom she could not exist without. And I, as with her, am on the same quest.

In the Arms of Your Significant Being: Mich

I was looking forward to meeting Mich. I had never met her before except through her pictures. And based on her photos she seemed to have that cute, innocent and adorable expression only a Japanese woman can have. As we talked on the phone and exchanged emails, I found her to be serious--much too serious and wondered if we were a fit. She rang me unexpectedly the night before I was planning to leave town. She asked me if I were free that night to meet for five minutes. Five minutes? Odd. But as it turns out the amount of time referenced was meaningless. It was really a question of whether we could meet. We met at a place I frequented--a quiet, nice comfortable place where you could talk without being bothered.

Coincidentally I met Mich at the valet parking. I could only catch a glimpse of her behind the wheel. I walked around her car and waited anxiously for her to disembark. As she got out of her car, she turn around slowly. My heart sank. She wasn’t what I expected. Where was the girl in the photo? The serious, sensitive girl? Instead, what I saw was a slightly raunchy and seemingly unsophisticated woman. I wasn’t thrilled and was actually displeased.

Nevertheless, I escorted her into the restaurant and we sat and started to converse. I still had mixed feelings but I managed to keep the conversation going. As it turned out she had a sad tale about her first marriage. I realized that underneath the bumpkin façade was a hard working woman who put others in front of her wishes and dreams. The outcome of her story was tragic and I saw tears well up as she unfolded her tale.

It seems her husband was a fishing and diving expert who dreamed of brokering sea urchins wholesale to the Japanese marketplace. Mich was a perfect fit as outside of their love and marriage, her background proved essential to the growth of their business. The entrepreneurial couple soon found a partner and saw opportunities to push their business on a large scale. Unfortunately expansion also meant that Mich and her husband would apart from one another for great lengths of time--her in Los Angeles, him in Santa Barbara. Plans for children would have to be put on hold as the partnership grew the business. The endeavor grew in tandem with the thriving Japanese economy--but conversely, impacted the business when the bubble burst. To make a long story short, the business partner, who had significant real estate investments, saw his net worth tank and did what numerous Japanese did during the post bubble era--he committed suicide. In this case, he hung himself. I could only see the pain and hurt in Mich’s eyes as she recounted the story. What hardship she and her husband must’ve experienced. The stigma. The guilt. And in the end, a resultant divorce.

I felt sorry for her and for some reason I felt as she had lost a part of her vivacious self forever having gone through the ordeal. I wondered if a part of her might have died forever and whether she was capable of ever being the way she was when she arrived into this country 15 years ago: eyes wide open and a bright-sized life ahead of her.