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My friends dragged me to Laundry the other night to see some Japanese rock bands. I think the real reason they went was because the e-flyer stated that Japanese girls in cosplay will be storming the place. On the other hand, I was enticed by the e-flyer’s promise that the performing bands were bigger than sushi and hipper than Hello Kitty.

So off we trotted like the three little pigs to the market.

When we got there, the place was packed with people but there was hardly a Japanese-looking face among them, much less a Japanese chick in costume. Meanwhile, the band onstage looked and sounded disappointingly, well, normal. I had been expecting Glay-type music from an avant garde band all decked out in eye-popping threads. But this band was certainly not the best export since sushi because they sounded like a mediocre Soundgarden tribute band…dressed up as Good Charlotte.

So the three of us stood there, eyes a little glazed after the first three songs. After another two songs, my friends looked like they were positively near hara kiri.

"Maybe more beer will make them sound better," my friend said, gulping down his Heineken.

"I came here to see Japanese chicks in schoolgirl uniforms and all I get is a fat bassist," my other friend grumbled.

I cheerfully pointed out, "But the singer’s kind of cute."

My friends volunteered half-heartedly, "Yes, he is a cute little bastard, isn’t he."

"Where are the Japanese women?" one of them suddenly demanded, scouting the crowd. "After a long, hard day of work, all a man wants to see is some Japanese girls in costumes. Is that too much to ask for? That’s what the flyer promised, after all."

"I think that’s what you call false advertising," I said.

"Now that’s just cruel. Why would they do that??"

"Well, it got you here, didn’t it?"

"Hmpff. Let’s get a table and drown our sorrows in draft beer."

Five minutes after we sat down, the event host came over to our table and she happened to be a Japanese college student my friends had met a couple times before. So she brought over some of her cute Japanese friends to introduce to us. Which kind of made the guys’ night.

Whereas the highlight of my night was when the waiter brought over my Corona with a slice of lemon typically wedged in the bottle mouth, except in this case the lemon was too damn big. I kept pushing and jabbing at it but the lemon refused to go down without a fight. So my friend gallantly attempted to push it down for me but ended up getting his thumb stuck in the bottle.

But the main issue was when I refused to drink the beer after he had his thumb in it all because of a confession he once made that he doesn’t wash his hands after taking a leak. So he went on to argue that his thumb was probably cleaner than my face, because I have a tendency to hold cushions in bars and lounges to my face which he said people had probably puked on. "I could probably get cholera and the bubonic plague from licking your cheek," he insisted. I laughed so hard my beer almost went down the wrong windpipe.

Bad night. Bad music. Bad lemon. But all you really need is good company. Kampai to that!

Sometimes you don’t see what’s right in front of you in your eager search to find something else. Or maybe you refuse to see it because you’re afraid to.

I know you’re more than meets the eye. I understand all the words you say and do not say. I understand why you do the things you do. I understand all your looks and all your actions, and all the feelings you don’t express. Beyond the cool, passive facade and the quiet confidence, I see the man beneath.

I admire you not just for who you are, but for the man you strive to be. I admire you for your aspirations, for the things you try to make right, for trying to bring happiness to all around you at your own expense. You comforted me in my hour of darkness, you give in a time of need, and you never even know it.

I’m not saying we should be together. My sense and rationality dictate over me. But in the vast, undefined expanse between love and friendship is an inexplicable connection of two souls who could not be more different, but share the same fundamental values.

To put it most simply, you ‘get’ me.

You’re going to be a big star someday, I know it because I can see your light, like a million comets trailblazing through the sky. Though my heart belongs to another and so does yours, know that I love you and I always have.