St. Valentine’s Day

The Japanese celebrate V-day (what Singaporeans call Valentine’s Day) with the women giving the men in their lives chocolate — from their hubbies to their bosses.

This is our second V-day in Tokyo. Let me recall the first: we just planned to meet back at the shoebox in the evening and the kangaroo suggested a tapas place nearby. The waiter put us way in the back room that looked like a sorry medieval dining room — replete with red and bronze print tablecloths and severe candlestick holders. Bizarre European shite in the middle of Tokyo. We were both tired and stressed — he about work and me about moving countries.

So this year wasn’t toooo different. Though we planned to meet at home and then head out, I thought I should take some initiative: I bought him Godiva chocolates (they are more expensive on the actual day — much like roses in Singapore) and booked a place at another tapas bar that seemed warmer and cosier.

Turned out the kangaroo’s business meeting ran late — usually they have a formal meeting end of the work day and then go for after-work beers but these guys were hungry and ordered food, too. Derek was antsing away and apologised for rushing off from the biru (beer) time. He asked, “Are you doing anything with your wives?” They said, “We’re going back to the office.” I cracked up when I heard it.

His colleague, a Japanese girl who has an Aussie boyfriend, feigned sickness to get out of the informal dinner and drinks — which is so Japanese because I think she didn’t want to look unprofessional and declare she had a date, and not a fever.

It was lovely nibbling on mushies, mussels, shrimp and bread drenched in olive oil and parsley, with sips of red wine in between. Then we held hands all the way back to the shoebox.

My gfs are all anti-V-day and I feel a little embarrassed to like this experience. But hey, if it’s an excuse to dine like a princess with nice wine — why the hell not?

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