- I don't like young Japanese boys like you. - She says in a very monotone voice.

-Why? - He demands an answer.

- I prefer those about to become salary man.

-You mean more mature?

-Naah, it's not about maturity.
What I like about them it's how they hold on to me like I'm the last fun they'll ever have in their lives. I like how desperate they are to be reckless one last time. They know I won't stick for too long, so every kiss is like a goodbye kiss. And they think that soon they'll find a good Japanese wife to treat them with kindness and care, so I can be as adventurous and inconsequent and bad as I want to be because that's what they expect from me. They want a bitch. They are almost becoming strict followers of every rule ever made in this Japanese society and they mourn it. I like comforting them.

- More three years and I'll be perfect for you. But right now I still believe you are not my last chance of happiness. And I still think you are not as adventurous and inconsequent and bad as you claim.
I don't want a bitch. I want you.
I don't want to mourn and to be comforted by you. I want to celebrate that I found you.
I want you.