What it’s Like to Rest Your Head on the Bosom of the Prettiest Woman in Japan*

The first time I saw her at Moto-Azabu Spa pool, I knew she was different than all the women I had met in Japan thus far.  A heart stopping beauty, she had more curves than most Japanese women. She was taller than usual and rather than being runway thin she had an athletic frame and skin that was kissed by the sun.

She stood at the edge of the swimming pool, staring into the water.   Dressed in a one-piece race suit, I watched her pull on her swim cap and goggles with rehearsed precision.  When she eventually hopped into the water, she swam with patience and confidence.  Sometimes, during her reach, her arms would stray across the centerline but from her easy kick, I suspected she might be a triathlete.

The second time I saw her was waiting on deck at the Hills Spa pool and this is where fate would bring us together.  She was as beautiful as I remembered, but I was pressed for time and couldn’t linger to enjoy the sight.  Other people were queued up on deck as well, hoping the lanes would thin out but I didn’t have time to wait so I hopped in the fast lane and joined the counter-clockwise flow.

I’m not fast by my peer standards; most of my friends can glide by me like I’m swimming the wrong direction.  However, I’ve found in Asia, where the thirst for amateur athletics is not as cultivated, I am typically one of the speedsters in the pool.  Such is the case in the spa pools of Tokyo.  Most people walk from end to end or do a leisurely breaststroke.

Eventually, the aquatically challenged cleared from the fast lane having tired of me swimming on their feet and then flipping at the wall to race ahead.  Occasionally, I would catch a glimpse of a familiar long and lean one-piece race suit gliding by in the lane next to me.

After a bout 20 minutes, the next wave of lane walkers made there way to the pool causing the swimming lanes to crowd up again.  Until this point, I had been sharing my lane with only one woman and we agreed to split the lane instead of swimming circles so I would not have to keep passing her and she would not have to keep waiting at the wall.  I knew our little arrangement could not last long but I hoped it would carry on for a few more minutes.

Alas on my next flip turn, rocketing off the wall it would all come crashing to an end as I drove my head directly into the bosom of my beautiful pool crush.  It wasn’t the tender union I would have hoped for but rather a dramatic collision with sufficient force to drive her backwards and cause me to see stars.

And now, just before bed with a slight headache, I can honestly say it’s not very pleasant to rest your head on the bosom of the prettiest woman in Japan.  At least not when it’s just an instant and initiated with the colliding force generated from pushing off a pool wall.

I hope she is not injured.  She left the pool and did not return just after the collision.  I did apologize profusely and, oddly, so did she despite the accident being my fault for disregarding the counter-clockwise swimming rule.  I wonder, after she had finished gasping for air and clutching her chest and wincing in pain if she thought I was cute?