On Saturday I received a call from my friend Kyle. (You remember him, right? He’s my American Idol blogger. You’ve laughed with/at him here, here, here and don’t forget here.)
Anyway, Kyle tells me this story about how he had received his first massage EVER the day before. The tale lasted about 10 minutes and I have to say that it’s the hardest I’ve laughed in a while. I asked him to be a dear and write it all down so I could post it for your viewing pleasure.
And of course, he obliged:
For a thank you present after an amazing banquet, our committee gave us an hour-long massage gift certificate. I have never really been excited about the idea of getting a massage. This is mainly because I am 100 percent sure that I would act/ do/ or say something stupid and really be a huge dork while making things awkward, because let’s face it–it’s kind of what I do. But I had only heard good things about the process, so I decided to take the leap and let a stranger put their hands ALL over my body.
Walking into the beautiful Massage Parlor was kind of a surreal experience. Let me back up a little. Getting ready for the event, I was a little confused about what I should wear, or what I shouldn’t wear. Kind of felt like a first date.
So walking into the place felt a little taboo. I am going to throw this out there…I kind of felt like I was getting a hooker. I have never gotten a hooker, but really that is the only thing I can compare this too. Sitting there filling out some paperwork, I was kind of giddy, but in a weird way. I was awkwardly laughing/snickering and smiling non stop, because I had NOOOOOO idea how to act in the room. And when I say I had no idea how to act, I really mean I HAD NO FREAKING IDEA how to act. And when that happens, I just get mouth diarrhea and can not shut up.
Needless to say, there was a lot of that going on.
My girl walks out all professionally and welcomes me into the room. It was fantastic in that room. Other than being the size of my palm, the music was great, lighting dim and it smelt like eucalyptus leaves.
Well…she told me it was that smell. She could have told me it was Seaweed Ginger and I would have believed her.
And here is when the awkwardness begins.
She takes me into the room and before she can speak, I say, “So this is my first time and I am going to let you know that I don’t know how to act. I have never done this before, so I am probably going to moan or grunt a lot.”
Yep. Those words came out. She told me not to worry. She said she was going to leave so I could undress. She said I could keep my boxers on and instructed me to get under the covers on my stomach. When she left, I got that smile on my face again, because I felt kind of dirty for some unknown reason. I then proceed to strip on down to my Homer Simpson boxers (worn just for this special occasion) and lay on my stomach under the covers.
Remember: I do not know massage protocol.
I hear a knock on the door to which I reply, rather loudly “COME IN!”
She walks in and the first thing I say is, “Sorry. I didn’t know if I should cover all the way up, or just mid back or …”
She stops me and tells me to just lay there and she will take care of everything.
She then proceeds to rub me down. I notice throughout the whole thing that she is spraying lotion out of a bottle. Even though there are bottles everywhere, I know she is not holding one. I figure out later that she has a lotion holster. That’s right. A holster for her lotion. Absolutely amazing.
I start to get more comfortable as she works on my back. The next thing I know, I’m asleep. I wake up when she is moving my arm and I jerk it out of her hands and kind of jump up. She gets a little startled but assures me that it’s OK. This happens a few more times. Once the back is done, she asks me to roll on my back.
At this point I am all relaxed and feeling good. I roll over, eyes watering because I was asleep and she pulls the blanket up to cover my chest. For some reason, a reason I can not tell you why, I pull down the blanket to my boxers. She looks at me all weird and asks if everything is OK.
Me: “Yeah. This is great. Thank you. Are you going to do my chest now?”
Her: “No, I was thinking about doing your shoulders.”
Me: “That would be great.”
I close my eyes. I notice she isn’t moving. I open my eyes and see her kind of looking strangely.
Me: “Would it be better if I pulled the blanket up?”
Her: “Yeah. That would be great.”
At that point, I decided to not talk anymore.
The end was much like the beginning, except this time she told me to put on my clothes and wait for her. Only I don’t think I heard the “wait” part and decided to walk out. As I am checking out, I hear my little friend walking around the parlor asking where I was. She wasn’t done. She needed to give me my water.
And that’s the end. I may or may not be welcome in that particular parlor ever again, but it was a great rub own. I recommend it to all. Just don’t yell “COME IN” or wear Homer Simpson boxers. At least if you are over the age of eight.
* * * * * *
I’m sure Kyle isn’t the only person who had an interesting experience at a massage parlor. We want to hear your stories. Don’t be scared. I’m in a laughing mood! Change your name and share your tales in the comment section!