Love Hotels

Me: I missed my last train the other night. It was a pain getting home.

Japan: Really? Why didn’t you stay in a love hotel?

Me: A love hotel?

Japan: Yeah.

Me: A hotel of love?

Japan: Right. I’ve got loads of them. You can take a date there and stay in a cheap, overly kitschy, well stocked, potentially comfortable hotel and, you know, get some loving.

Me: Get some loving?

Japan: Yeah, have some fun, make love, consummate a relationship.

Me: Why don’t you just go back to a house and do all that.

Japan: Because the whole point of a love hotel is that you can be discreet in your extra marital, secret or illicit relationship without the prying eyes and ears of family or neighbours or your own guilty conscience.

Me: Right. So these love hotels are very discreet then?

Japan: Er, well, sort of, sometimes. I mean, they might have concealed car parks and entrances and exits so nobody can see you come and go.

Me: Or come and come.

Japan: Or they might have a vending machine as a lobby so you can pay for your room key without even having to see anybody else.

Me: Quiet and understated.

Japan: Or they might have a giant neon Statue of Liberty replica on the roof.

Me: Erm…

Japan: Or there might be a Cinderella theme.

Me: Theme?

Japan: Or the building might be in the shape of a ship.

Me: Hang on –

Japan: Or it might be called something silly like The Legend of the Innocent Beaver.

Me: Sorry, how is this discreet?

Japan: Well, they’re normally all in the same place. Each city has at least one area that has lots of love hotels so you can hide your clandestine liaison in a postcode of neon clad daftness full of people copulating.

Me: What about the stories I hear of you being some kind of relationship wilderness where nobody has sex anymore?

Japan: Dunno. It might be lazy journalism reporting a non-story about a subculture of a subculture and prescribing it to an entire population. Don’t you have love hotels in England anyway?

Me: Sort of.

Japan: What are they called?

Me: Travelodge.

Japan: Sounds bland.

Me: Or home. You can just go home and have sex in England.

Japan: Well sure, but that’s a bit boring isn’t it? You should get them to change it up a bit. Get them to cover one of those hotels in sky blue lights, put a giant plastic replica of the Sphinx on the roof and call it Dr Monkey’s House of Tickle.

Me: Hmm, that may well work in the centre of Osaka but I’m not sure it would have the same kind of charm next to a dual carriageway in suburban Slough.

Japan: Your loss.

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February 14, 2014. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , . Uncategorized. Leave a comment.