Wash Your Own Underwear Yourself ~ 9, Let Only Those Who Have Done Matchmaking Cast the First Stone ⑤

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Just as it was about to turn 6:00 PM, I received a call from Ms. Sakurada.

We were meeting at the venue for the drinking party. A friend had specified an izakaya in Susukino, and I was standing right in front of the building where it was located.

“...Hello?”

I would have preferred to handle the matter via email. Just as I reluctantly answered the phone, an acquaintance who was also attending the party appeared.

“Sorry, go ahead without me.”

I said that in the middle of the conversation. Sensing that I was busy, Ms. Sakurada spoke in an apologetic tone.

“I’m sorry to bother you while you’re busy. I just wanted to ask how today’s matchmaking meetings went...”

I had three matchmaking meetings in one day: with Mr. M, Mr. N, and Mr. O. I summarized my impressions of each: Mr. M, who checked his watch as soon as we started, and Mr. N, whom I cut short because I was taken aback by how intensely he stared at me.

“Mr. M and Mr. N are not members of our company... especially regarding Mr. N, I am sure you had an unpleasant experience. Since they are members of another agency, I apologize that I couldn’t keep a closer eye on things.”

I belong to Agency E, but naturally, there are also members from other agencies among the people I meet. I had realized painfully that there are things even a matchmaker cannot grasp when I met with a member who seemed to live only to drink alcohol.

“As for Mr. O, we received a ‘YES’ response very quickly. He said he really enjoyed talking with you, Ms. Tamaru.”

“...Mr. O, you say?”

I felt like I had spent the entire time just complaining about my work. Even so, I remember that Mr. O didn’t make a single unpleasant face and kept nodding along.

“Ms. Tamaru, you said you would decide whether to withdraw from the agency based on today’s meetings. How was Mr. O?”

Since he was the last person I met today, my memory of Mr. O was still fresh.

“He listened to my complaints about work... and when he said, ‘It’s hard to have any breathing room when you’re busy, isn’t it?’, there was a moment where my heart softened.”

It was a tense hour where I had to keep talking one-on-one with a complete stranger. I’ve experienced many matchmaking meetings, but that was the first time my tightly wound feelings had loosened during a conversation.

He must have a good personality. I didn’t have any bad impressions of Mr. O during the meeting.

However.

“Mr. O... he’s not my type.”

Even if they have a fun time at a meeting, there are people who simply cannot make the next decision because the other person isn’t their preference. Mr. O was exactly that type, and normally, I would decline.

However, he lives alone, is self-sufficient, and has a stable income. The reason he hasn’t been able to get married until now, despite being a year older than me, likely has to do with the fact that he lived on the main island and only recently returned to Hokkaido, as well as his busy life as an SE.

His conditions are impeccable. I struggled with whether he was someone I should dismiss just because he wasn’t my type.

He was the first person in my matchmaking activities whose good character left an impression on me.

“There are many people who struggle with the reason that someone isn’t their type. However, as a matchmaker, this is the first time I’ve heard you, Ms. Tamaru, say that your ‘heart softened’ after a meeting... so I think it would be a waste to turn him down.”

It is indeed a waste to turn someone down when there is even a small part of me that feels a connection.

“But I’m already exhausted.”

“I understand. But, could you try moving forward to a trial relationship with Mr. O for just a little longer...?”

Once July comes, the busy season will end, and I should get my own time back. However, I don’t even know the cause of my hematuria, and I don’t have the energy to continue matchmaking while I’m falling apart both mentally and physically.

If I connect with Mr. O for a trial relationship, I wonder what all those men I turned down before were for. The many meetings I passed on with the vague judgment that they weren’t physically repulsive, but they weren’t my type either.

I can’t help but feel like I’m talking to a cousin. I don’t know how to overturn a first impression.

...Well, I’ve poured so much money into this, so I guess I can pay for another month.

“...Understood. Please proceed with the trial relationship with Mr. O.”

At the very least, I’ll meet him one more time and talk. But if my activities continue to stagnate any further, I will definitely withdraw next time. I emphasized this to Ms. Sakurada and ended the call.



The drinking party I joined late was an izakaya that boasted of serving Hokkaido seafood.

A creative guy living on the main island was coming to Sapporo, so they were having a party and asked if I wanted to join. I had assumed she would be there, but the friend who contacted me was nowhere to be seen. I sat in an empty seat, feeling bewildered.

What kind of connection is this? Does everyone else know someone other than the creative guy? But since there are acquaintances among the party members, I probably won’t be left out.

The creative guy—let’s call him Inuyama-kun. This was my first time meeting him, but the other man, Mr. A, and the woman, Ms. B, are drinking buddies I see more often than just for creative connections. I’ve met the manga artist, Ms. C, before, but not as closely as I am with Mr. A and Ms. B.

The age range was wide, with Inuyama-kun in his 20s being the youngest. I’m in my 30s, and the others are older than me, but I didn’t know their specific ages beyond guessing they might be in their 40s. I know Mr. A is married and Ms. C has children.

We did a toast and started with self-introductions. I wondered if everyone knew Inuyama-kun, so I observed them while introducing myself. At first, there was an awkward atmosphere, so we decided to take turns talking based on topics chosen mainly by Mr. A.

Talking about going to concerts of our favorite artists or games that were recently released. While we were talking about our recent situations, the topic of me always turned to my life as a corporate slave or my matchmaking activities. At the time, I was open about my matchmaking in my private life, and Mr. A and Ms. B would ask about my progress every time we met.

Since entering the peak busy season, I’ve done nothing but work and matchmaking. I thought matchmaking might be an awkward topic for Inuyama-kun, who is in his 20s, but I wanted to hear the perspective of a modern young person to use in my future creative work.

While talking, I enjoyed the food being brought to us. Inuyama-kun was eating the simmered kinki fish so neatly that I casually complimented him, when a voice flew from the seat across from me.

“Hey, is what I’m saying not important?”

It was during Ms. C’s turn to talk. I didn’t intend to interrupt, but perhaps it looked like I was ignoring the conversation. I had never been reacted to like that before, and I was surprised internally, realizing that she was that kind of person.

Ms. C, a veteran manga artist, has a long career in the industry, and an unpopular novelist like me is no match for her. The world I live in is different from hers, as she regularly publishes works while I am hanging on by a thread.

I ordered a drink while paying attention to the conversation. We all decided to order sake, and I joined in with a small cup. I had been looking forward to this drinking party for a long time, as I had been too busy with work to even have time to drink.

A new game was released, and the topic of when everyone finds time to play while working came up. There are only 24 hours in a day. As a writer with a day job, I work on my manuscript during my so-called free time, so it’s natural that if I make time to play games, I lose time for my manuscript.

I like games too, and when I was dating a gamer boyfriend, I owned a DS and a Wii. However, I couldn’t stand how time would just melt away playing games, so I sold everything the moment I broke up with him.

I want the hourglass that rewinds time from Harry Potter. Hermione, who used it, seemed to have a very hard time, though... but I was the one who wanted to rewind time more than anyone.

“When you work 13 or 14 hours a day with overtime, you don’t even have time to write novels.”

Everyone except Inuyama-kun is connected to me on social media. They are the people who see my struggles in real-time: me tweeting almost every day that I still can’t go home, the futility of cutting into my own time for a job that is supposed to be for earning rent, and not knowing what I’m living for.

When I open my mouth, it only turns into complaints. While I was listening to Inuyama-kun’s youthful episodes, the time for our reserved seats ended. Before moving to the second venue, I stood up from my seat to go to the restroom.

Because it was the weekend, the restaurant was very crowded. It was a restaurant partitioned into private rooms, but there was also a group that looked like a university circle. The restrooms were separated for men and women, but the hallway was narrow, and the women’s restroom was further back.

In front of the men’s restroom, a pair of what looked like university students were waiting in line. However, the women’s restroom seemed to be empty. I passed in front of the two, saying, ‘Excuse me.’”

“Hey, there’s a line.”

“The women’s restroom is empty, isn’t it?”

“No, because you...”

“I am a woman.”

Why must I be stopped? Surprised, I shook them off and entered the women’s restroom. Perhaps the men’s restroom wouldn’t open up, as I could hear the voices of the men from earlier on the other side of the door.

“No, that looks like a man no matter how you see it.”

“You’re only looking at the face, that’s a woman.”

“Wait, isn’t that guy from our university?”

“Definitely not. You’re just too drunk.”

The man who stopped me seemed to have mistaken me for a man.

No, no, I’m wearing a skirt today, aren’t I?

It’s a floral frill outfit with a ribbon at the chest, bought for matchmaking, in the style of a female announcer, isn’t it?

My hairstyle? Is it because of my short hair? That’s why you thought I was a man?

Huh? Even though I have a ribbon at the chest and floral frills?

And I’m wearing full makeup today, too?

I always do my matchmaking with this face, you know?

Carrying a fuzzy feeling, I finished in the restroom and left. Why were the two still there? Were they taking a really long, big dump in the men’s restroom? I tried to pass by them to avoid getting involved—

“Hey, you!”

Are they still trying to engage me?

“You, you’re that guy, that guy.”

Do they think I’m someone they know? Look, it’s that guy, that guy, they said, calling out a man’s name. A friend tried to stop the drunkard, but he wouldn’t stop talking to me.

“What? You’re just trying to cover up the fact that you mistook me for a man, right?”

I said that to the man who was trying to stop him and walked away from the pair.

Even after returning to the private room, the fuzzy feeling didn’t go away. If they mistook me for a man, what was the point of talking to me further? In the first place, they were talking while I was using the restroom, saying that guy was an acquaintance named so-and-so.

In other words, was I mistaken for a man in drag?

No matter how flashy the clothes I wear to pretend to be a female announcer.

Even if I wear heavy makeup to try to look beautiful.

What is the problem? Is it my light, short hair?

Even this is on the longer side for a man, you know?

Do I look like a man that much?

Am I doing my matchmaking in an outfit that makes me look like a man?

Is that why my matchmaking isn’t going well?

I mean, you really are judging only by appearance, aren’t you?

You thought I was a man because my hair was short, right?

Was my plain, salt-face not feminine enough?

Is the reason I get turned down in matchmaking, after all, because I’m not beautiful?


Ah, man.


Really, men only look at the face, don’t they?



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