The day my geisha arrives on my doorstep I feel, in a word, geishariffic! At least twice a day my geisha performs this eloquent, high-risk choreographed dance for me. She jumps around, twirls, and throws herself to the floor in beautiful, exquisite movements. I tell her she can stop when I see her getting a little tired. She knows I will be disappointed if she does stop, though. I want more. She continues dancing for about an hour or so. My geisha loves to unwind from her long, hard day of entertaining me by drawing me a warm, soothing bath, adding salts and mixing in exotic fragrances. She improvises a song about my hairy little potbelly. I’ve always been self-conscious about that feature on my body, but hearing it put into song makes me feel special.

Gas prices are high, and my geisha knows that! She gives me rides to work on the handlebars of her bicycle, which I have nicknamed the geishcycle. She loves it when I weave her name into objects. When she sneezes, I tell her, “Geisha you!” It sounds a little like “God bless you.” It isn’t super-clever, but she smiles. I can tell when she is in a good mood because she peddles faster.

“Geisha, where is my hot tea?” I scream during my lunch break. She comes running through the crowded cafeteria, hot tea in her hands. Her grace astounds me as she avoids bumping into a single one of my co-workers, spinning and prancing around them like an acrobatic deer. She spills not a drop of tea. I can’t help but think what a lucky man I am to have found such a wonderful, beautiful geisha. Uh-oh! No cinnamon in this tea. “Geisha,” I say, “you take this tea back right away!” She is so sweet the way she bows and apologizes profusely. I can’t stay mad at her for too long.

My geisha knows that if she wants to be a part of my life, then she needs to accept that game consoles are a major passion of mine. My geisha helps me by memorizing secret codes and studying maps from strategy books. She has become a reservoir of fantastic game tips, tricks, and hints. When I beat Luigi’s Mansion for the Nintendo GameCube, my geisha did a celebratory Sarugaku dance: incredibly elegant, inspiring, and dangerous.

I enjoyed her performance almost as much as the game’s ending, where Mario and Luigi jump up and down once they are reunited. Tons of Japanese names scroll down the screen as the game designers are given credit. I ask my geisha if she recognizes any of the names. She giggles and begs me to please take a shower. I guess 24 consecutive hours of Luigi’s Mansion will ripen a person. That’s another wonderful thing about my geisha; she has an incredible sense of smell!

The other day, the both of us go hang out with a buddy of mine and his girlfriend. We are all having a good discussion. Suddenly, without warning, my geisha breaks into song. For 20 minutes, all attention is on her crooning. My buddy tries to intervene with a joke, but my geisha cuts him this look that seems to say, “Geisha don’t think so!” She seamlessly transitions from her Japanese lullaby into an oration on the proper way to boil rice. My friends have to leave before she concludes. Too bad they missed the best part: my geisha goes into the kitchen and actually boils rice for me! Delicious!

My geisha demands that I take off my shoes before I enter the house. I have to put on slippers. It is part of her crazy geisha custom. I tell her it is an American custom that when you enter a bedroom, you have to take off all your clothes. This has had the unfortunate drawback of her never stepping foot inside my bedroom.

What is better than a geisha? Two geishas! From the moment the knock sounds and my second geisha walks through my condominium door, they are at each other’s throats. I feel like I have a front-row seat to a live Matrix battle. There is flipping and dance fighting. I learn that geishas do not like competition from other geishas. I learn that there can be too much of a geisha thing.