Anybody would rather look than be looked at. The fact that they keep on and on selling endless instruments for “looking”-radios and televisions-is excellent proof that ninety nine percent of men are aware of their own unsightliness. I became nearsighted of my own accord, frequented strip houses, became an apprentice photographer … and from there it was but a step, and a most natural one, to being a box man.
(Some marginal notes again in red ink. As for the existence of exhibitionism, I certainly have no bone
to pick with the claim of the author who considers visual rape to be a universal tendency in man. Time and again, exhibitionism tends to be confused with excessive sexual desire unsatisfied by the normal sexual act; but in fact there are many cases where it is over repressed sexual expression. One patient, for example, made the following confession: His first condition for making the exhibitionistic act more effective is that the person he intends exhibiting himself to be unknown and of the other sex. Second, a fixed distance must be kept between him and the other person, and the relationship of seeing and of being seen must not be broken by approaching too close. Third, the two parties must not be able to distinguish each other’s face. As a concrete case in which the preceding three conditions might be fulfilled, the patient suggested something like the inner courtyard of a girls’ dormitory where there are numerous thickets. The tendency toward exhibitionism indicates that while the patient had a strong interest in the opposite sex generally, he had a morbid sense of shame concerning them individually, as they actually existed. According to the author’s argument, this is the patient’s realization of his ugliness. Further the patient said the following: In order to reach orgasm by the act of exhibitionism he would imagine receiving a sexual stimulus by the other party’s seeing his sexual parts. If the other party clearly manifested her disgust that put a wet blanket on him, but to have her show curiosity was also irritating. To have the other party pretend that she didn’t see him was by far the most stimulating. It was dearly a desire to have the other party participate in his exhibitionistic act as a visual rapist. Exhibitionism is merely the act of visual rape reflected in a mirror.)
“You’re a vacillating fellow,” said the fake box man, speaking rapidly in a tight, hard voice. “I would jump at the chance … something’s wrong with you … such good conditions …”
“I hesitate because you get in my way.”
“Ah … I see.”
“Since I’ve had experience myself with being a box man, I think I know somewhat more about them than you. The reason the world ignores box men is because nobody understands who’s inside the box. But your true colors are perfectly clear. I even know your way of looking at me. I don’t like being stared at. I don’t like it at all.”
“But that’s why I paid fifty thousand yen, isn’t it?”
“I got used to looking, but I’m not yet accustomed to being looked at.”
The fake box man swayed. After once bending diagonally forward, he arose with surprising agility. The back of the box rubbed against the wall and made a tawdry sound peculiar to dry cardboard. After all, something fake was something fake. It could not be compared with a genuine box long in use.
“Let’s stop the idle talk now,” cried the fake box man unsuitably cheerfully, stretching his legs. His bare limbs were sinewy and white and conspicuously hairy. I wondered if he were wearing no trousers. “I’m not exactly hungry, but l’appetito viene mangiando, you know.” Then calling the girl’s name, he ordered, “Come on, show him what you look like naked.”
I was confused. Over and above the fact that she had suddenly been ordered to strip, I felt perplexed that she should be called by her own name. I hesitate even writing her name here and now. I am made to realize anew
(Some marginal notes again in red ink. As for the existence of exhibitionism, I certainly have no bone
to pick with the claim of the author who considers visual rape to be a universal tendency in man. Time and again, exhibitionism tends to be confused with excessive sexual desire unsatisfied by the normal sexual act; but in fact there are many cases where it is over repressed sexual expression. One patient, for example, made the following confession: His first condition for making the exhibitionistic act more effective is that the person he intends exhibiting himself to be unknown and of the other sex. Second, a fixed distance must be kept between him and the other person, and the relationship of seeing and of being seen must not be broken by approaching too close. Third, the two parties must not be able to distinguish each other’s face. As a concrete case in which the preceding three conditions might be fulfilled, the patient suggested something like the inner courtyard of a girls’ dormitory where there are numerous thickets. The tendency toward exhibitionism indicates that while the patient had a strong interest in the opposite sex generally, he had a morbid sense of shame concerning them individually, as they actually existed. According to the author’s argument, this is the patient’s realization of his ugliness. Further the patient said the following: In order to reach orgasm by the act of exhibitionism he would imagine receiving a sexual stimulus by the other party’s seeing his sexual parts. If the other party clearly manifested her disgust that put a wet blanket on him, but to have her show curiosity was also irritating. To have the other party pretend that she didn’t see him was by far the most stimulating. It was dearly a desire to have the other party participate in his exhibitionistic act as a visual rapist. Exhibitionism is merely the act of visual rape reflected in a mirror.)
“You’re a vacillating fellow,” said the fake box man, speaking rapidly in a tight, hard voice. “I would jump at the chance … something’s wrong with you … such good conditions …”
“I hesitate because you get in my way.”
“Ah … I see.”
“Since I’ve had experience myself with being a box man, I think I know somewhat more about them than you. The reason the world ignores box men is because nobody understands who’s inside the box. But your true colors are perfectly clear. I even know your way of looking at me. I don’t like being stared at. I don’t like it at all.”
“But that’s why I paid fifty thousand yen, isn’t it?”
“I got used to looking, but I’m not yet accustomed to being looked at.”
The fake box man swayed. After once bending diagonally forward, he arose with surprising agility. The back of the box rubbed against the wall and made a tawdry sound peculiar to dry cardboard. After all, something fake was something fake. It could not be compared with a genuine box long in use.
“Let’s stop the idle talk now,” cried the fake box man unsuitably cheerfully, stretching his legs. His bare limbs were sinewy and white and conspicuously hairy. I wondered if he were wearing no trousers. “I’m not exactly hungry, but l’appetito viene mangiando, you know.” Then calling the girl’s name, he ordered, “Come on, show him what you look like naked.”
I was confused. Over and above the fact that she had suddenly been ordered to strip, I felt perplexed that she should be called by her own name. I hesitate even writing her name here and now. I am made to realize anew
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