Once Again, the Gold in the Freak Flag Olympics Goes to . . . Japan
When the 45-year-old, who uses a pseudonym of Ta-Bo, returns home, it's not a wife or girlfriend who await him, but a row of dolls lined up neatly on his sofa.
Each has a name. Ta-Bo often watches television with his toys before bathing them, powdering them so that their skin feels more human, dressing them in lingerie and then taking them to bed.
"A human girl can cheat on you or betray you sometimes, but these dolls never do those thing. They belong to me 100 percent," says the engineer who has spent more than 2 million yen ($16,000) over the past decade on the dolls.
"Sometimes it takes too much time before I can have sex with the person I meet. But with these dolls, it's just a matter of a click of the mouse. With one click, they are delivered to you."
The man, who says he has had sex with five women but prefers the dolls, is one of a gradually increasing, though secretive, group of Japanese men who have given up on women.
And the women thank them.
posted by Biff Loman at 6:01 PM
4 Comments:
OK, that was weird. Even you would agree.
The women of Japan thank his employer for paying him a salary to keep him occupied with silicone lovers.
I wouldn't say I think it's weird. I think Japan has freaky sexual mores that make guys like this possible, and by guys like this, I mean, guys who prefer animatronic sex to sex with actual women. But that just means he's different from me.
For me, as long as sex with a living, breathing, "betraying, cheating" woman is possible. I'm wasting my time and money in pursuit of it.
Seriously, before I settled down to a life of articulated limbs and genitals, I think I would try a sex life of strippers and hookers and dominatrices -- run the whole sex industry gamut -- before I waved the stained white flag of surrender.
Dude spent $170,000 on dolls. In any economy, that's a lot of live, naked action with professionals, who will only tell you the lies you want to hear and only betray you for the next guy with cash. I'd rather give my money to them than spend it on a latex, love sock.
That's just me, though, a perv with a preference for the real thing.
That he doesn't agree with me, doesn't strike me as weird -- just freaky. And I love the freaky, as you know.
Biff you are the undisputed champion, King and Emperor of freaky.
You are the Pope of freaky, the Shah, the Strongman and the Jefe of freaky.
The Ayatollah of sexual rock and rolla, in short the god of freaky.
And yet, I am humbled by the beauty of a yummy mummy. Such is the divine mystery of me.
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