Translating for the language handicapped
I have just spent the last three and a half hours on a date between a Japanese twenty-four year old guy and an American twenty-six year old girl, neither of whom know the other's language. They saw each other at a restaurant last week and had chemistry, I guess, and somehow managed to exchange phone numbers. Afterwards, while she was trying to talk to him somehow on her cell phone, she eventually gave it to me and I arranged for a night out between his friends and our posse at karaoke this past weekend. Tonight was the first date for the two of them (and me as their "translator").
So I can't talk deep deep stuff in Japanese, but I managed to convey for them what each was talking about in a general way. And I learned a couple of things too. And apparently this guy is seriously liking Mona because he's going to meet us after our Japanese class next Friday for his first English lesson (where he also gets to hang out with Mona at the same time, making it worthwhile). I have no clue where this will go, but by the end of tonight, Masahiro and I felt like we'd been the ones on the date. If those two don't start learning each other's language soon, I'm going to start making out with him. He has a really big SUV and good cologne, so why not, I figure.
Okay, that's totally materialistic, but, well, you spend the night saying sweet nothings into someone's ear for someone else, telling them they're cute and sweet, and getting the impact of their response before delivering it to the recipient and you'll start wondering where your part of the cake is too.
No, really, it was fun and a pleasure to do what I was able to do for them. But really really weird also. I've never been on that sort of date before, sort of ghostlike but very present at the same time.
Now time to bake some brownies. Or go to bed. Which will win out in the end?