I had a massage after work tonight. But first, let me tell you about my day.
It started off well. I had a busy but very productive weekend, and the the apartment is almost finished. I have one more print to get back from the framer's, and then I can call it done. Yesterday I unpacked the last box. I think it looks great. Pics to come...one of these days.
I had a wonderful night's sleep, and woke up feeling refreshed and excited for the week ahead. The first half of the day went fine, but things fell apart a bit after lunch. We had a consultant come in to make a presentation to the team, but the guest user password I'd obtained for her didn't work, the a/v guy never showed to hook up the projector, and the handouts she'd FedExed me arrived an hour after she started. Then at 4:58 -- I swear! -- someone else I support called and said, "Hey, do you remember those documents I had you fax to the attorney in L.A.? I gave you the wrong fax number, can you re-send them?" Okay, so back to the files to pull them all out, unstaple, fax, re-staple, re-sort, and re-file. Meanwhile, 32 pages of confidential financial information have gone...God knows where.
So, yeah, I was feeling pretty excited about this massage. I had a gift certificate from the place I temped all summer long as a thank-you for my many devoted hours of patiently not surfing the internet. (Wink-wink.) It was about to expire so I had to cash it in.
As I was racing to the clinic, an awful thought occurred to me: what if the therapist was a woman? Not that it should really make much difference, but I'm just more comfortable with men. (Go figure.) Why hadn't I called to make a request? So as I pulled into the parking space, I said a quick prayer. "God, throw me a bone, here." (In truth, that's what I said...though as soon as the words escaped my lips I cringed.)
Inside the clinic there was a short, squat young woman sitting at the reception desk, and next to her, a young man in a blue medical outfit. He was about 6'3, olive skin, green eyes, black hair, and had arms like tree-trunks. Oh, mercy, I thought.
Yeah, my appointment was with the woman.
I think this was the first time a woman has seen me naked since my hernia operation in 1994. (Oh, well...Robin Byrd on the beach at Fire Island, but that doesn't count.) Yes, there was a strategically draped sheet, but I'm pretty sure that during the careful arranging she saw more than she needed to. I don't care; I'm not exactly bashful, but still it felt odd. I guess society has programmed me to be nervous while naked around women. (Good thing I'm gay!)
"Wow, it's the size of a softball!" she exclaimed, referring to a knot in my right thigh.
The massage was actually pretty good. I mean, it wasn't life-changing, oh, God, please don't stop, I need someone to carry me back to my car kind of thing, but I definitely felt better afterward.
Now that I'm home, the red wine is finishing where she left off. Ahhhhh.
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9 comments:
Step One of our plan to turn Andy into a heterosexual...Check.
Andy? A heterosexual man?
Those words usually have "likes to have sex with" in between them.
And we wouldn't want him any other way. *wink*
never had a message.
not a paid-for one, anyway.
something about being naked in the presence of somebody i'm not going to have sex with just doesnt appeal to me.
Gino: I'm with you.
rita: Hilarious!
Andy: God help me, I'm going to quote Alanis here: "I recommend walkin' around naked in your living-room." Naked is GOOD! It's the way we're shipped! The way we arrive! Everything else is just decoration. (Yeah, sure, I'll be posting my most recent naked pics on my 'blog any day now. Heaven knows I've been spending enough time naked lately...)
I'm having flashbacks to how touchy-feely we were back in corridor 2... but then we all knew each other fairly well. Might not be that you were nervous in front of a woman, but that it was a perfect stranger who was about to touch your naked skin? Or if you were going to be naked in front of a man, would it be a different sort of nervous?
As a side note... my friend Mari saw you at work yesterday and nearly introduced herself, but thought it would catch you off guard. I told her that I already warned you that a strange Japanese woman will someday talk to you as if she knows you already, so be prepared.
And don't believe anything she says about me, she's a liar. :)
LC - Who is this "our" in your "our plan" anyway?
Gino - I've avoided professional massages for the opposite reason - not that it doesn't appeal to me, but that it would probably appeal far too much.
Andy says he'll post pics of his finished apartment, DJRainDog says he'll post pics of his naked self ... ;). There are reams of analysis to be done there ;).
Andy, there is a massage therapy place in the city designed for men, with facials with manly smells and that all; I've read positive reviews.
LC: I'm not sure this plan is working. Today at lunch I teared up listening to Renata Scotto singing Madama Butterfly on my iPod -- that's a pretty good sign I'm still extremely queer.
Rita: oh, how well you know me. By the way, happy birthday, my love.
Gino: well, I don't make a habit of being naked in front of people, just on the beach in warm, glorious sunshine. It's a bad habit I picked up in Europe, like my fondness for socialized medicine and roasted chestnuts.
DJ: Yeah, I'm okay with being naked. Really. It was more about being naked and being touched by a woman that was...weird. Please don't post naked pics to your blog. Not that you aren't spectacular, just...un peu de classe, je vous pris. I need to spend more time naked and less time alone, preferably simultaneously. Sigh.
KR: not reams. Andy = repressed, frustrated, conflicted. DJ = in serious need of some repression. There, analysis complete.
Andy, perfectly understandable that you'd feel uncomfortable naked around women. I mean, what context do you have experience in that? For me, I'd be quite uncomfortable naked around a man (with one glaring exception, my spouse, and even that was a little weird at first). But I have locker room experience being naked around women. So no biggie. When I got a professional massage, I was most grateful it was a woman.
Madama Butterfly?
Damn!
Next step: Replacing all of Andy's Ipod tunes with Toby Keith and Merle Haggard.
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