I have a bit of an addiction with deals. Any kind of deal I can get, Mama wants. I currently subscribe to four different daily “deals.” That does not include the other shopping and spa-related emails I also receive on a daily basis.
Seriously, I have a problem.
I can’t turn down a good deal! It helps me rationalize things I want, but don’t necessarily need. Why, yes, I DO want an unlimited Yoga membership for half off to some place not at all convenient for me to get to! I mean, I’ve never done Yoga before but, hey, this is the perfect opportunity to try!
Dog grooming services? Why, yes, that DOES sound amazing! I mean, I don’t actually HAVE a dog, but maybe I will before the coupon expires? How can I turn down such an amazing deal????
Recently, I purchased a deal for an hour-long massage at a “facility” nearby where I work. I say “facility” because I quickly discovered it was not anywhere close to resembling what a spa is, or a salon, or really any place that feels at all comforting, relaxing or elegant.
When I got to the building I immediately sensed something was wrong. I had to buzz the “salon” and then an escort came down to get me.
The waiting room looked reminiscent of a World War II infirmary (smells and screams included), and I had a feeling I was in for a not-so-pleasant experience.
It was then that I met my massage therapist (after going through security and a full-body scanner).
He was in his late 20s and wearing baggy jeans, an oversized T-shirt and basketball shoes.
Although this garb is perfectly acceptable for say, a concert or going to a sporting event, or even just walking down the street, this is not at all what I was expecting from the person who was going to rub down my naked and stressed-out body.
As he walked me through the maze of rooms that seemed more like an office than a salon, I began to get a little worried. We arrived at the designated room, which was basically a makeshift cot in the middle of the room, with a balance ball, a small chair and a little table set up with some kind of oil. (Possibly vegetable oil – I’m still not entirely sure.)
We are talking bare bones, people.
As he exited the room, he told me to disrobe and lay under the sheet face down. I quickly threw off my clothes and jumped under the sheet.
This is about the same time I realized the sheet was completely see-through. I began to have second thoughts about being fully nude and was going to get up to put my underwear on when I heard a knock at the door.
Not enough time! Well, at least the lights would be dimmed.
I told him to work only on my neck, back and arms only to hopefully resolve some of the tension headaches I had been experiencing. He got down to business…without dimming the lights!
He was actually quite skilled with his hands, though, so I slowly felt my stress fading away and forgot about the lights being similar to that of my car’s high beams.
As he leaned over me, using his elbows and forearms to work out the kinks, I feel my stress leaving…but I also feel something else.
Is that what I think it is???? My mind started to race.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a bulge in his crotchal area. Maybe it was his hip? Yeah, that’s it. It must have been his hip. It couldn’t have been his erect…oh dear Lord…oh no…that is definitely an erect penis. Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD!
I discretely moved my arm a little closer to my body, but at intermittent time periods I felt his “bulge” brush my arm.
“How’s the pressure?” he soothingly asked as if he didn’t just press his chubby up against my arm.
“Just fine, FINE…I’M FINE” I answered a little too loudly and quickly.
“You know, you do have a lot of knots. I really think I can take you a little deeper” he cooed.
No, no, GOD no! I think you’re in deep enough, buddy.
When it came time for me to turn over so he could focus on my neck and arms, I realized I was quite cold from the very sterile room and sheer sheet. And by quite cold I mean pretty cold. We are talking headlights on a glass-cutting level.
I silently will my nipples to retreat back into my areolas. Cooperate, nipples! This guy didn’t need more ammo!
So he’s massaging my arm and all I could think is “hard nipples, see-through sheet, erection, glaring lights.” Oh dear Lord, what am I to do?
“You really need to relax,” he instructed as he jiggled around my arm.
I tried to brush the thoughts from my head, but all I could think about was “hardnippleserectionsheersheetglaringlightshardnipplesseethroughsheeterection aaaaagggghhhh!”
It was one of the more awkward massages I have yet to experience.
And to think HE was the one to get the friggin’ tip.
I have no problem getting a massage from a man. On many occasions I have and sometimes I prefer it, as they have stronger hands. But PLEASE do not rub your chubby one-eyed monster on my “needs-to-relax” arm. It will have quite the opposite effect, I assure you.
I need to stop buying these deals!