A Wife Less Ordinary

It began with a light, deceptively superficial conversation on an evening soon after I started working. One of my fellow high school teachers, a Japanese man of about fifty, cleared his throat repeatedly at me.
“Uhrm, ah. Yes. Ehto. So, Scott-sensei, will you be attending the
enkai this evening?”
“Yeah, no problem. I just have to run home first, but I’ll be there.”
“Ah, you will be bringing your wife, yes? Ah, good. Yes, I… look
forward to meeting her.”
When I arrived at the izakaya later that night, my coworkers spotted me as soon as I stooped to get through the doorway. And then… “Good evening everyone, this is my wife Tess,” I said, and in steps a blonde, blue-eyed foreigner. The office ladies gasped a long “Hehhhh?!” while exchanging incredulous looks. The rest of the teachers squirmed in their seats, except for the two who had already met Tess before, who grinned quietly to themselves.
As the evening progressed and drink started flowing, everyone remembered to smile. I heard people starting to toss questions around the table. I caught the gist, but eventually they were translated into English and directly put to Tess and me. Naturally, there were the usual “gimme” questions, like “Can you use chopsticks?” (Of course. Ever heard of a Chinese restaurant?) and “Do you drink shochu?” (Buy me one and let’s find out.) I nodded and smiled, and so did Tess, privately filing things away to laugh at later.
But the subject arousing most curiosity turned out to be “Why did you come to Japan?” The tone struck me as being less curious than interrogatory. Glances thrown in my wife’s direction hinted at the real meaning of the question. It felt strange having to explain myself to my co-workers as if I had done something wrong. In a way, I suppose I had; I’d committed the sin of straying outside their frame of reference.
“Why did you [that is to say, you two married hakujin] come to Japan?” Whenever I’m asked this question in a serious way by a nihonjin, I explain that I became interested in Japanese martial arts during my college years, and both Tess and I are really into the culture and the language of this country. Almost everyone reacts as my coworkers did. I can tell them about the things I love here, like the food, the history, the folklore—their mouths smile, but their eyes don’t comprehend. Whereas if you’re a foreigner married to a Japanese woman, people think they already know why you’re here.
Often—though never when my wife is around, of course—the follow-up question is, “What do you think of Japanese women?” Well, mochiron, I think they’re quite lovely. And the person who asked (and it usually is a male) gets a gleam in his eye, as if my answer holds a hidden significance.
A few weeks after the enkai, a fellow teacher invited me to go on a trip to an onsen in the mountains. Teenage girls go there, he said, and you can see everything. It’s not the only such solicitation I’ve gotten. Seems that (who knew?) married men in Japan are expected to play around a little. The nodding, winking, elbowing brotherhood of philanderers gets pushed on me twice as hard. Not only am I married, I’m also a foreigner, and all foreign guys want a little native action. Right? To make matters worse, any foreigner knows that if you don’t socialize with coworkers, your office relationships can suffer.
Fortunately, in my situation, it’s easy to decline the more salacious invitations. During my time at the school, if I wanted to get out of ogling the under-aged, or even just avoid getting dinged ¥4,000 for unlimited salad, toast and bad beer at a boring office enkai, all I had to do was plaster a rueful expression on my face. “Sorry, fellas, the wife needs me back home early.” If I needed extra emphasis, I held two fingers up to the head to signify horns, and the reaction of masculine sympathy was immediate. Meanwhile, Tess would be home playing Soul Calibur IX or something, totally oblivious. She’s encouraged me to use her as an excuse whenever I want. In fact, she finds the entire situation hilarious, which is lucky for me.
One night after an English class, I was talking about Japanese language study with one of my adult students, a nice and respectable elderly gentleman from Dazaifu. Out of nowhere, he asked me if I had a Japanese girlfriend.
“You know I’m married, right?” I asked bemusedly.
He nodded. “But,” he said, “a Japanese girlfriend would be useful for the pillow talk. That would be very convenient for your language study, I think.” I’ll have to run that one by the wife. Dodesho?

 

 

 

 

 

高校で働き始めてすぐのとある夕方、同僚の50歳近くの日本人教師が何度か咳払いをしながら僕に尋ねてきた。「えーっと、ところでスコット先生は今晩の宴会に参加しますか？」「もちろんです。いったん家に戻ってから来る予定です。」「奥さんも連れて来るんですよね？会うのが楽しみですね。」
居酒屋に僕と妻が着くなり、宴会に参加していた同僚たちの視線は僕らに釘付けになった。「皆さんこんばんは。妻のテスです。」ブロンドヘアで青い瞳の妻を紹介すると、事務の女性たちは視線を交わし合いながら大ハシャギ。他の同僚も以前に妻に会ったことがある2人を除くと、みんな私たちに興味津々のようだっだ。
お酒も入り宴会も盛り上がってきたところで、恒例の質問タイムに突入した。最初は同僚が訳してくれる質問を聞いていたんだけど、次第に矛先は僕と妻に向けられ、「お箸は使えますか？」（中華料理だってお箸を使うんだから、当然使えるよ！）とか、「焼酎は飲めますか？」（そう思うなら、まずは試しに呑ませてくれよ！）なんて類いの、後でボクと妻とで笑い草になるような質問がほとんどになってきた。中でも「どうして日本に来たのか？」は、彼らの一番気になることだったらしく、まるで取り調べを受けてるみたいに根掘り葉掘り聞かれたよ。なぜ彼らがそこまで興味をもつのか理解出来ないし、答えなくちゃいけない状況に追い込まれるなんて変だと思わないかい？
「なぜ日本に来たの？（既婚の白人夫婦が揃ってどうして？っていう意味）」と日本人に真剣に聞かれた時には、大学時代に柔術に興味をもち、しかも僕ら2人とも日本の文化や言語に興味があったから、と説明するようにしている。だって彼らに食べ物や歴史など日本の大好きな点、つまり日本に来たくなった本当の理由を伝えても、曖昧な笑顔と相づちは打ってくれても、そこに理解はみられないんだ。でもこれが日本人女性と結婚している外国人が対象だと、いちいち言わなくても日本にいる理由は勝手に解釈されているんだ…。極めつけは妻がその場にいない時には「日本人女性についてどう思う？」と決まって聞かれること。もちろん日本人女性はとても可愛らしいよ、なんて答えようものなら、質問をした男性は勘ぐりを始めるのが常だ。
宴会からしばらく経って、同僚から温泉旅行に行こうと誘われたんだ。若い女の子も一緒だそうだ。彼らの目的はわかってたよ。日本人の既婚男性から、一緒に火遊びをするように仕向けられているみたいだ。この摩訶不思議な友情ってヤツが僕にとって重荷になっているのが本音なんだけど、同僚と上手く人間関係を築けなかったら外国人にとっても致命的なことだってことくらいは理解しているつもりだよ。そんなとき、例えば、若い女の子に色目を使ったり、飲み放題付きのいわゆる『宴会』を避けたければ、「妻が待ってるから早く帰らなくちゃいけないんだ。」と申し訳なさそうな顔をすればOKだ。二本指を頭にもってきて角をつくって恐妻であることを強調すれば、男性同僚の同情を得ること間違いなし！当の本人、テスはというとテレビゲームに没頭しているけど、誘いを断って早めに帰宅する口実として彼女を使うことを承諾しているしね。それに、実のところ妻はこういう状況を楽しんでいるんだ。
ある晩、英語の授業の後に感じが良くてキチッとした社会人学生と日本語の勉強について話していたんだ。すると何を思ったのか、日本人の彼女がいるかと唐突に聞いてきた。「僕が既婚なの知ってるよね？」と彼に言うと「日本人の彼女とピロートークで日本語学習をするのが一番だよ！」ときた。うーん…早速、妻テスに相談しなくっちゃ。これってドォデショ？

 

 

 

 

 

It began with a light, deceptively superficial conversation on an evening soon after I started working. One of my fellow high school teachers, a Japanese man of about fifty, cleared his throat repeatedly at me.
“Uhrm, ah. Yes. Ehto. So, Scott-sensei, will you be attending the
enkai this evening?”
“Yeah, no problem. I just have to run home first, but I’ll be there.”
“Ah, you will be bringing your wife, yes? Ah, good. Yes, I… look
forward to meeting her.”
When I arrived at the izakaya later that night, my coworkers spotted me as soon as I stooped to get through the doorway. And then… “Good evening everyone, this is my wife Tess,” I said, and in steps a blonde, blue-eyed foreigner. The office ladies gasped a long “Hehhhh?!” while exchanging incredulous looks. The rest of the teachers squirmed in their seats, except for the two who had already met Tess before, who grinned quietly to themselves.
As the evening progressed and drink started flowing, everyone remembered to smile. I heard people starting to toss questions around the table. I caught the gist, but eventually they were translated into English and directly put to Tess and me. Naturally, there were the usual “gimme” questions, like “Can you use chopsticks?” (Of course. Ever heard of a Chinese restaurant?) and “Do you drink shochu?” (Buy me one and let’s find out.) I nodded and smiled, and so did Tess, privately filing things away to laugh at later.
But the subject arousing most curiosity turned out to be “Why did you come to Japan?” The tone struck me as being less curious than interrogatory. Glances thrown in my wife’s direction hinted at the real meaning of the question. It felt strange having to explain myself to my co-workers as if I had done something wrong. In a way, I suppose I had; I’d committed the sin of straying outside their frame of reference.
“Why did you [that is to say, you two married hakujin] come to Japan?” Whenever I’m asked this question in a serious way by a nihonjin, I explain that I became interested in Japanese martial arts during my college years, and both Tess and I are really into the culture and the language of this country. Almost everyone reacts as my coworkers did. I can tell them about the things I love here, like the food, the history, the folklore—their mouths smile, but their eyes don’t comprehend. Whereas if you’re a foreigner married to a Japanese woman, people think they already know why you’re here.
Often—though never when my wife is around, of course—the follow-up question is, “What do you think of Japanese women?” Well, mochiron, I think they’re quite lovely. And the person who asked (and it usually is a male) gets a gleam in his eye, as if my answer holds a hidden significance.
A few weeks after the enkai, a fellow teacher invited me to go on a trip to an onsen in the mountains. Teenage girls go there, he said, and you can see everything. It’s not the only such solicitation I’ve gotten. Seems that (who knew?) married men in Japan are expected to play around a little. The nodding, winking, elbowing brotherhood of philanderers gets pushed on me twice as hard. Not only am I married, I’m also a foreigner, and all foreign guys want a little native action. Right? To make matters worse, any foreigner knows that if you don’t socialize with coworkers, your office relationships can suffer.
Fortunately, in my situation, it’s easy to decline the more salacious invitations. During my time at the school, if I wanted to get out of ogling the under-aged, or even just avoid getting dinged ¥4,000 for unlimited salad, toast and bad beer at a boring office enkai, all I had to do was plaster a rueful expression on my face. “Sorry, fellas, the wife needs me back home early.” If I needed extra emphasis, I held two fingers up to the head to signify horns, and the reaction of masculine sympathy was immediate. Meanwhile, Tess would be home playing Soul Calibur IX or something, totally oblivious. She’s encouraged me to use her as an excuse whenever I want. In fact, she finds the entire situation hilarious, which is lucky for me.
One night after an English class, I was talking about Japanese language study with one of my adult students, a nice and respectable elderly gentleman from Dazaifu. Out of nowhere, he asked me if I had a Japanese girlfriend.
“You know I’m married, right?” I asked bemusedly.
He nodded. “But,” he said, “a Japanese girlfriend would be useful for the pillow talk. That would be very convenient for your language study, I think.” I’ll have to run that one by the wife. Dodesho?

 

 

 

 

 

It began with a light, deceptively superficial conversation on an evening soon after I started working. One of my fellow high school teachers, a Japanese man of about fifty, cleared his throat repeatedly at me.
“Uhrm, ah. Yes. Ehto. So, Scott-sensei, will you be attending the
enkai this evening?”
“Yeah, no problem. I just have to run home first, but I’ll be there.”
“Ah, you will be bringing your wife, yes? Ah, good. Yes, I… look
forward to meeting her.”
When I arrived at the izakaya later that night, my coworkers spotted me as soon as I stooped to get through the doorway. And then… “Good evening everyone, this is my wife Tess,” I said, and in steps a blonde, blue-eyed foreigner. The office ladies gasped a long “Hehhhh?!” while exchanging incredulous looks. The rest of the teachers squirmed in their seats, except for the two who had already met Tess before, who grinned quietly to themselves.
As the evening progressed and drink started flowing, everyone remembered to smile. I heard people starting to toss questions around the table. I caught the gist, but eventually they were translated into English and directly put to Tess and me. Naturally, there were the usual “gimme” questions, like “Can you use chopsticks?” (Of course. Ever heard of a Chinese restaurant?) and “Do you drink shochu?” (Buy me one and let’s find out.) I nodded and smiled, and so did Tess, privately filing things away to laugh at later.
But the subject arousing most curiosity turned out to be “Why did you come to Japan?” The tone struck me as being less curious than interrogatory. Glances thrown in my wife’s direction hinted at the real meaning of the question. It felt strange having to explain myself to my co-workers as if I had done something wrong. In a way, I suppose I had; I’d committed the sin of straying outside their frame of reference.
“Why did you [that is to say, you two married hakujin] come to Japan?” Whenever I’m asked this question in a serious way by a nihonjin, I explain that I became interested in Japanese martial arts during my college years, and both Tess and I are really into the culture and the language of this country. Almost everyone reacts as my coworkers did. I can tell them about the things I love here, like the food, the history, the folklore—their mouths smile, but their eyes don’t comprehend. Whereas if you’re a foreigner married to a Japanese woman, people think they already know why you’re here.
Often—though never when my wife is around, of course—the follow-up question is, “What do you think of Japanese women?” Well, mochiron, I think they’re quite lovely. And the person who asked (and it usually is a male) gets a gleam in his eye, as if my answer holds a hidden significance.
A few weeks after the enkai, a fellow teacher invited me to go on a trip to an onsen in the mountains. Teenage girls go there, he said, and you can see everything. It’s not the only such solicitation I’ve gotten. Seems that (who knew?) married men in Japan are expected to play around a little. The nodding, winking, elbowing brotherhood of philanderers gets pushed on me twice as hard. Not only am I married, I’m also a foreigner, and all foreign guys want a little native action. Right? To make matters worse, any foreigner knows that if you don’t socialize with coworkers, your office relationships can suffer.
Fortunately, in my situation, it’s easy to decline the more salacious invitations. During my time at the school, if I wanted to get out of ogling the under-aged, or even just avoid getting dinged ¥4,000 for unlimited salad, toast and bad beer at a boring office enkai, all I had to do was plaster a rueful expression on my face. “Sorry, fellas, the wife needs me back home early.” If I needed extra emphasis, I held two fingers up to the head to signify horns, and the reaction of masculine sympathy was immediate. Meanwhile, Tess would be home playing Soul Calibur IX or something, totally oblivious. She’s encouraged me to use her as an excuse whenever I want. In fact, she finds the entire situation hilarious, which is lucky for me.
One night after an English class, I was talking about Japanese language study with one of my adult students, a nice and respectable elderly gentleman from Dazaifu. Out of nowhere, he asked me if I had a Japanese girlfriend.
“You know I’m married, right?” I asked bemusedly.
He nodded. “But,” he said, “a Japanese girlfriend would be useful for the pillow talk. That would be very convenient for your language study, I think.” I’ll have to run that one by the wife. Dodesho?