Give peas a chance

I know that all of you Kotaku blog readers and Japanophiles have come to see Japan as the mecca of all things cute, strange, delicious and technologically advanced. But like any good facade, there’s always the more than lackluster underbelly hidden in plain sight. It’s like the open back of a funeral suit, a reverse mullet, if you will.

On the other side of all the things that make your Otaku senses tingle, there’s another thing that Japan is the unofficial capital of: Single-serve food.

In the U.S., a single person is made to feel lonely whenever they shop for food because everything is “family sized” or portioned out for four servings. It’s like, the universe is saying, “have this with your friends and your cool significant other, and if you don’t, then you can have this lonely meal three more times and put to bed any curiosity you’ve ever had regarding Bill Murray and how he felt in Ground Hog’s Day”. Lucky you! You’ve won that lottery you never bought tickets for!

In Japan, you rarely encounter this problem. Cup ramen, packages of meat portioned out for one, bento for one–I mean it’s pretty convenient until the day you’re really hungry and a shop clerk puts two chopsticks in your grocery bag. Now you’re just single and fat. I like to imagine I’m Godzilla when I drink my tiny can of sad fuck coffee. It makes me feel powerful. I was thankful for all of this until I became truly single just before Christmas. Christmas alone is hard enough, but Christmas in Japan is kind of seen as a couple’s holiday. So amidst the rows of chocolates, cards and cute presents you can gift to your partner, while sad, homesick, cold and hungry I happened upon the produce aisle. There I saw something that simultaneously made my blood boil and my heart ache.

For fuck’s sake it was a tiny package of green peas.

I just stood there imagining what sort of demand justified a person devising a machine to shell peas specifically for the purpose of putting them in this tiny package for one. I thought of how many single people out there needed this one package of peas to complete the Indian curry they slaved over that they will share with no one, or for the salad they’re eating to try and stay fit. My brain struggled to comprehend why 12 peas was worth the gigantic waste of styrofoam and saran wrap packaging.

I’m aware that this is a myopic view of the word “single”. I’m aware that my married friends liken the word “single” to “adventure”. But in case you’ve forgotten what heartbreak feels like, it really is just “lonely”. Feeling that way doesn’t make you ungrateful for friends and family, feeling that way just is.

Loneliness makes you do weird things.
Like say “fuck you peas” in a crowded super market and subsequently cry in the shower.
I’m not proud of that moment, but it happened, and it is what it is.

I guess I what want to say is, “I’m sorry peas.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
“I can’t really commit to the idea of being without the person I love…I’m just not ready.”
“But don’t worry, when I am, you’ll be the first to know. One of these days I’ll be strong enough to give peas a chance.”