As much as I hate to spoil the whole ´º¤Îê–šÝ (haru no y¨­ki, springtime cheer) thing, I have some bad news about Japanese love relationships, specifically ÉçÄÚÁµÛ (shanai-renai, intra-company love affairs).

Despite our ³¬¸ßýh»¯Éç»á (³¦³ó¨­-°ì¨­°ù±ð¾±°ì²¹-²õ³ó²¹°ì²¹¾±, super-aging society), an increasing awareness of alternative lifestyles and the ever-growing number of women in the workforce, some things remain stubbornly the same. It¡¯s hard for women over 30 to find a partner within the workplace circle, and the odds are stacked higher against her with each passing year. This means that if the fresh-faced ÐÂ×ä Å®×Ó (shinsotsu joshi, newly graduated young woman) in the ubiquitous black ¥ê¥¯¥ë©`¥È¥¹©`¥Ä (rikur¨±to s¨±tsu, ¡°recruit suit¡°) wishes to find a marriage partner in her »áÉç (kaisha, company), she has less than eight years before her chances get drastically reduced.

Apparently, 30 is the cut-off point ¡ª »é»î (konkatsu, partner hunting) agencies point out that only 23 percent of Japanese women get married between the ages of 30 and 34, and that rate gets whittled down to 11 percent between the ages of 35 and 40. No wonder a lot of the young women I talk to these days say more or less the same thing: ѧÉú•r´ú¤Î±ËÊϤò¥­©`¥×¤·¤È¤«¤Ê¤¤¤Èá᤬¤Ä¤é¤¤ (Gakusei-jidai no kareshi o kiipu shi to kanai to ato ga tsurai, ¡°It¡¯s better to keep your college boyfriend close at hand, because hard times may be ahead¡°).