I've been getting massages off and on for years. Nearly twenty years, in fact.
I love them. There's an old episode of Frasier where Niles, separated from Maris, discusses his sexual frustration.
Niles: You don't realize how desperate I am. Ever since our separation, I've been paying women to touch me.
Frasier: Oh, Niles...
Niles: Manicurists, pedicurists, facialists. When you see a man who's well-groomed, you can bet he's not getting any.
I co-opted that line some years ago, because I regularly pay people to touch me. Not out of frustration, but because it feels good. And because I wear sandals and my feet need professional intervention.
So, I was at the airport in Nashville yesterday, and decided to avail myself of the Massage Bar. It's a chair massage place - and there are two in the airport - I prefer the one in the B Terminal - but my flight was in C Terminal, and I was meeting colleagues there.
They plunked me down next to a woman who moaned quietly though her entire encounter. I mean, it was kind of inappropriate. And by kind of, I mean entirely.
Massage isn't sexual, or at least - the kind I get isn't.
Now, that said, has more than one massage therapist seen more of me than they wanted? Sure. I know for a fact of at least two people who have seen areola. I'm not proud of it. Sheets slip, and so do nips.
And have I, in the privacy of a massage room, emitted a noise that sounded like it belonged in a bad adult film? Yes. Indeed I have. Relief of lower back pain will do that.
But unlike Tourist McGee, I leave my squeals of delight packed neatly in the overhead compartment or in the seat pocket in front of me.
I actually found a new massage place near the office. I'm sure it's going to get shut down for cock fighting and opium sales soon - but it's cheap, reasonably clean, and they don't advertise happy endings, so... I feel like it's OK. And for $120, two hours of massage. No half assed weird flutter touches, either - like they get in there with elbows and attack knots without mercy.
I think what I'm saying here is that my back hurts.
ae
I love them. There's an old episode of Frasier where Niles, separated from Maris, discusses his sexual frustration.
Niles: You don't realize how desperate I am. Ever since our separation, I've been paying women to touch me.
Frasier: Oh, Niles...
Niles: Manicurists, pedicurists, facialists. When you see a man who's well-groomed, you can bet he's not getting any.
I co-opted that line some years ago, because I regularly pay people to touch me. Not out of frustration, but because it feels good. And because I wear sandals and my feet need professional intervention.
So, I was at the airport in Nashville yesterday, and decided to avail myself of the Massage Bar. It's a chair massage place - and there are two in the airport - I prefer the one in the B Terminal - but my flight was in C Terminal, and I was meeting colleagues there.
They plunked me down next to a woman who moaned quietly though her entire encounter. I mean, it was kind of inappropriate. And by kind of, I mean entirely.
 |
| Season 3, Episode 16 - Look Before You Leap - February 1996 |
Massage isn't sexual, or at least - the kind I get isn't.
Now, that said, has more than one massage therapist seen more of me than they wanted? Sure. I know for a fact of at least two people who have seen areola. I'm not proud of it. Sheets slip, and so do nips.
And have I, in the privacy of a massage room, emitted a noise that sounded like it belonged in a bad adult film? Yes. Indeed I have. Relief of lower back pain will do that.
But unlike Tourist McGee, I leave my squeals of delight packed neatly in the overhead compartment or in the seat pocket in front of me.
I actually found a new massage place near the office. I'm sure it's going to get shut down for cock fighting and opium sales soon - but it's cheap, reasonably clean, and they don't advertise happy endings, so... I feel like it's OK. And for $120, two hours of massage. No half assed weird flutter touches, either - like they get in there with elbows and attack knots without mercy.
I think what I'm saying here is that my back hurts.
ae
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