I was talking with a nice married couple about ways we de-stress after work. I said, “I never thought I’d do something like this, but sometimes I go to a spa sometimes to get a massage. I feel like a California yuppie doofus, but it’s nice.”
The husband said, “Do you get aroused during it?”
I blinked. “Uh, no. You do?”
“We went once, and yeah.”
The nice, attractive wife chimed in “I did too!”
“What, both of you?”
“Oh yeah.”
She said, “You really didn’t?”
I said, “Well, look, for starters, I just paid a bunch of money. For a cheapskate like me, that immediately kills the mood. Second, they’re piping in Yanni over the speakers, and that’s like thinking about five straight games of baseball. Finally, everything smells of lavender. So...no. I mean, it’s sensual and relaxing, but...no.”
The wife went out in the living room where other people were talking, and exclaimed “Impromptu poll! How many people have went to a spa and been aroused by the massage?”
I heard some excited talking which seemed to indicate that she had supporters.
I said to the husband: “So this embarrassed you? And you haven’t been back?”
He nodded.
I said, “Don’t you think it’s just another day at the office for them? I mean, they must see that all the time.”
He shrugged. “It just made me not want to go back.”
I think I’m lucky, to be honest. If I was so easily aroused by that sort of thing, I probably would have ended up with a family of six back in high school where we used to give each other massages all the time as part of drama class. These days I think it would only work if the masseuse dressed up in a Princess Leia slavegirl outfit--that would probably cut through the libido-dampening effects of Yanni and lavender.
But if it happened, frankly, I just don’t see why it’s something to be embarrassed about. To me it’s like giving a “thumbs up” to the masseuse’s performance. Or, y’know, some other body part. Plus it’s potentially a money saver. If you’re showing such tangible gratitude for her work, doesn’t that eliminate the need to leave a tip?
I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say ‘probably not’ for that last question. Can’t quite pay the rent on that kind of tangible.
I can’t believe you just compared it to a thumb.
My last massage was from a 200-lb fijian woman who wrung me out like a rope ladder. I have this sneaking suspicion, from her warm hug afterwards, that she was hoping I’d be more aroused than I was. Instead, I actually just left a cash money tip. Isn’t Andrew Jackson arousing enough?
Also, my high school theater grope massage sessions were not always intended to result in relaxation. Not directly, anyways. Which I why I kept coming back!
I can’t believe the kind of massage play I used to get back in the day! (… back when I was in drama classes and school plays with you; you were the best and hottest straight guy in every class and production btw.)
Now I have to pay for it Like you, I don’t get turned on by it.
Pretty funny. The last time I got a massage was from a 240-pound black man who was built like a linebacker. He was very careful not to touch my breasts. I admit I was pretty into it.
That’s why I wear a strap-on when I get a massage. Just so there’s no doubt about my thumb being up. Ahem.
Ahhh...drama massages...back stage, in the dark, between scenes and at intermission. *sigh* I’m going to sleep well tonight with that memory. Thanks.
I attempted to de-stress in the presence of married people today who talked non-stop about how they never get laid anymore because their kids bang on their locked bedroom doors and then their husband has a ten-hour Cialis errection.
I’m going to start wearing my headphones more often. And eating eating Lorazepam like Altoids.
My last massage was (supposedly) a ‘lymphatic drainage’ from a woman who had hairier pits than my Dad. And yet, sadly to say, all that carressing of the lymph nodes around my groin area had an effect.
And I’m a GIRL!
However, Thai massage (when you’re in a much more advanced state of undress) doesn’t have that effect at all!!!
Am I racist??!
What the heck. My husband’s always told me not only do men get aroused during massages, but they’re not over until the anticipated happy ending all over the therapist’s hand. That bastard.