The Kimochi Warui Diary
Jotaro waited patiently as I flipped through porno magazines in the corner of the 7-Eleven.
If I could verbalize full sentences in my current drunken state, this is what I would have explained to him:
There are two different kinds of Japanese porno mags here. One of them goes for realism—or more like what you’d categorize as “amateur.”
The girls like decent-looking 7s they approached on the street (probably while they were walking home from high school) and paid them to take photos. These girls can be a bit darker-skinned, pubic hair a mess, legs too skinny, dark nipples, bad lighting… Their faces typically aren’t shown—probably because they don’t want to be recognized—either through deliberate censorship or through bad angles.
And then there’s this other type of magazine:
The one with the adult video stars.
They’ve got entire sections of the magazine devoted to them, along with promotional material for whatever Blu-Ray disc they’re releasing. Their skin is airbrushed to the perfect tone, they’ve got big brown childish eyes piercing the camera and into the reader’s heart, and the mot “defect” one will have is a bit of a crooked tooth—and even that is sold as a charm point.
Not only are their breasts perfectly shaped in all the pictures, but they’ve got the perfect amount of body fat pinched around the strings of their bikini straps. And don’t even get me started on the delectable bit of flesh above the thigh high socks.
This magazine is completely artificial—I know that. But looking at the two side by side, the choice is obvious:
I choose the fake one, 100%.
I’m content to take my pretty magazine up to the counter, but just then, I notice something else on the shelf:
A magazine with an anime girl on it. That’s right—a porno magazine but with 2D girls.
And the truth is, even that stuff gets me off, too. But it’s an acquired taste. I’m not always in the mood for it. Sometimes it’s just too fake for me to get into the required headspace.
But other times, when the 2D is just right, I can appreciate it in all its forms.
That’s because the 2D artform is like this idealistic pursuit of beauty. It’s an unending, maddening pursuit of the perfect form. If the Greeks had known about anime porn, they’d be drawing that instead of making marble statues of dudes.
I held up my magazine with the pretty, airbrushed girls against the one with the 2D anime girls. And I start thinking to myself:
What’s the difference here?
There’s plenty of differences—don’t be absurd. The actual question is:
Why do I prefer these two magazines, but not the one with the amateur girls?
And it’s not just because “I like what’s pretty and clean.”
No… The magazine with the adult video stars, and the magazine with the anime girls, are both 2D. Nothing is real about either of them.
When it comes to real life, you have to acknowledge all the flaws, and you tell yourself stuff like “Any pussy is good pussy” to cope with those flaws. Meanwhile, the 2D acknowledges the flaws, but it tries to fix them… And here’s what’s fucked up about that:
The flaws are from nature, and nature is supposed to already be perfect on its own. It’s perfect because it exists on its own without any human intervention.
2D seeks to resolve what’s already perfect, thus creating a perversion of perfection. It poisons the mind and gradually trains you to believe that imperfections of the body are somehow “wrong.” It’s enough to rewire your penis entirely, programming it to get flaccid at the sight of those imperfections.
But if that’s the case, then there’s actually something far more sinister going on when you reject real life for 2D:
The fact that you’re completely writing yourself out of the fantasy!
When you jerk off to porn, you’re supposed to do so by self-inserting into the guy who’s fucking the girl. That’s the whole point! But when it comes to 2D, you can’t self-insert, because you’re not 2D either. When you jerk off to 2D, you’re actually jerking off to the symbols of sexual attraction on their own—not the cohesive whole of sexual intercourse that they represent. And once those symbols become boring and tired, your tastes become progressively weirder and more fucked up. It’s all because you need to find new circuits to activate the dopamine response, because the old circuits are fried and burnt out!
“Hey,” Jotaro said. “We good here? I’m going back to the hostel.”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said. “You know, I just thought it would be funny to buy a porno magazine from Japan. Ya know?”
Jotaro looked at me. He didn’t say anything.
“You can go back to the hostel,” I said. “I’m gonna stay out a bit more.”
“Kay.” Jotaro left the 7-Eleven.
I took the magazine with me up to the front counter. The cashier is a short Japanese girl. But she’s wearing a hat, a sick mask, long sleeves, and even gloves. The only thing I can see is her eyes.
She’s real, and she’s standing in front of me, but I have no idea what she actually looks like. Doesn’t that make her even less than the girls in this magazine?
What does real life have that 2D doesn’t?
By providing feedback through communication, a true relationship can form with the subject. If they could integrate AI chatbots with 2D porn, the otaku would be set for decades.
But my Japanese is shit. There’s no way I can have a real conversation with this 7-Eleven girl, thus preventing the feedback loop of communication from forming. All I can do is carry my mental image of her back to my bedroom and imagine what would have been.
It’s no different than the faculties that are used with 2D, and 2D is completely one-sided. You lust for it, you selfishly take it all in, and when you’re done, you discard it—you don’t have to face anyone after the sexual energy dries up.
But with real life, it’s all about communication from both sides. Beginning with observation, escalating to touch and scent, and finishing with taste—none of which can be experienced without some form of consent, communication, and surrender.
I stood there for a few minutes, looking at the porno magazine in a completely new light. I looked up at the girl behind the register.
Then I plopped the magazine down on the counter.
“Just this, thanks!” I said with a smile.
I handed the 7-Eleven clerk my money. In return, she bowed and happily handed me my change.