Confessions of a Depersonalized Asshole

Confession #3

Anime is fucking gross.

Like, have you seen their eyes? Same size as their boobs! Unrealistic! Beautiful faces! Great music! Animation, spot on. And the characterization, oh so simple and beautiful.

When, I met you, it was during my Naruto phase. I'd been a hardcore, serial cosplayer and dub supporter. I wasn't really ashamed of it, just so embarrassed that I thought I'd die when imagining you stumbling upon my 30th Anniversary Sheryl Nome PVC figurine. Or my giant Kakashi statue. You don't know this, but I privated my cosplay Instagram for you. That shit is serious. 

Anime isn't necessarily something you discuss on the first date, unless you'd prefer the conversation to somehow reveal your fifteen anime figurines (plus statue) back home.

So it was weeks later, after we'd made out a ton and exchanged dick jokes, you found my Naruto headband stuffed behind a bag of cereal.

And then while I peed, you found my shrine of figurines!

Do you know how mortifying that is? To come out of the bathroom and find the girl you like to kiss bending Madoka's fragile bow and arrow? Not to mention some cosplay you'd broken into while I was missing.

"Impressive," I stared, transfixed, at the small curve of your lips as you spoke. "I'm disappointed that there's no Vageta or Luffy."

In that moment, I knew the truth... You were a fan of mainstream anime.

That was the night we had sex before the watchful eyes of fifteen anime figurines, plus a Kakashi statue's stony gaze.

Anime is fucking gross. But hot too.