My brother has plunged into this deep gloom. It's his girlfriend, naturally. He's taken to calling me three times a week, genuinely perplexed and begging me to tell him why the romance is gone. He's my brother and I love him, but honestly, like most Japanese men the guy does not have a clue. I can tell by listening to his monologue, which after hearing similar versions almost everyday, I can repeat verbatim:

"Whatever I do is wrong. I could get all worked up or just shrug and leave her alone, both ends of the spectrum don't work. She ends up staring at me, her eyes shot with red and brimming with tears. 'Wakkate inai (You don't understand)' is her newest mantra. 'You don't understand me or women. What's worse, you don't care!'

"You want to know the thing about Japanese girls -- they're too serious, though they could have you fooled for a time. Sooner or later, they show their true colors, which is stuff like kekkon (marriage), kodomo (kids), shiwatori kuremu (antiwrinkle creams) and, of course, the Permanent Diet Syndrome or some approximation thereof. And these are just the girls you thought were real fun, the ones who had tattoos in the shape of snakes (with tongues out) coiled around their navels, the ones who looked great in Earl jeans, miles of legs ending in narrow mules and spikey heels, the ones who licked your face like a dog and crinkled their noses when they giggled, which was all the time.