Things have been going well for me lately, both professionally and personally, and I owe a lot of that to this blog.
In addition to becoming a well-rounded individual, my intention with this blog was to monetize my efforts. To my surprise, I accomplished that in three weeks. Several outlets have contacted me to write for them, including Men’s Fitness Magazine. While I was perusing www.MensFitness.com the other day I noticed an article about how getting a massage after a workout improves muscle recovery.
I had never received a professional massage before, and since I work out like a maniac I figured it could do my body good to at least try it.
I enter most things with a bit of skepticism. I need people to prove things to me. I am just built that way. So, on Wednesday I entrusted another human being to show me that massage therapy could be beneficial like my magazine had informed me.
I did a Yelp search for massage places in my area and found a few in a two-mile radius. With nothing deciphering any of them from the other I chose the one that had hours of operation posted.
I jumped in the shower before I left, mainly in consideration for the person rubbing me down.
When I arrived at the shop I didn’t really know what to expect because of the way films depict massage parlors, especially ones in the San Fernando Valley. Jokes usually revolve around how lonely perverts visit them for happy endings (see Hall Pass).
The nice lady at the front desk took my $40 dollars and showed me to a room where she instructed me to take my clothes off. She said my masseuse would join me in a minute.
The masseuse knocked on the door a minute later and asked if I was ready. I hadn’t fully de-clothed because I was too busy admiring the artwork and listening to the soft chiming music that wafted from the speakers.
I threw my clothes on the chair and got under the blanket on the massage table. I vehemently hoped that the masseuse was an ugly chick. I didn’t know how a certain body part would behave if she happened to be hot. She knocked again, and introduced herself. Unfortunately, she was beautiful. All I could do was hope that body part would behave itself.
The first question she asked was if I could handle low, medium, or high strength. I told her to give all that she could, because I have a high tolerance for pain. Plus, I gave her a once over and didn’t think that all 5-feet-2-inches, and 100 pounds of her could hurt me too bad.
She took my arms and dangled them over the side of the table. She began on my right side and worked her way from my shoulder all the way down to my feet. She then moved over to my left side and did the same. It was very relaxing, and wasn’t painful at all.
I nearly started singing Method Man’s “Bring The Pain,” because I expected way more of it. Why was she going so easy, or was she just trying to ease me in? No sooner did those thought cross my mind before she moved back to my right side and got on top of me with all her force. She immediately found a knot in my upper back and went to town on it. It didn’t bother me too much at first, but after a good 30 seconds I was on the verge of tears. She frequently asked if I was OK, to which I responded with muttered moans of yes.
There were so many pops echoing off my body that I felt like I was made of bubble wrap. She then moved down to my lower back on the right side and found more knots. Apparently I built up a lot of tension over the past 26 years.
She then grabbed the towel and lifted it up to work on my ass region, before moving down to my thighs and legs. She tapped me twice on my rear and told me to stop clenching. I didn’t realize I was doing that, but it’s not everyday that someone is massaging my hairy ass.
She repeated the previous process on my left backside. By far, the most pleasurable part of the massage was when she worked on my legs, because I have put them through hell over the past year since I took up running.
After she finished my backside she left the room for a minute and returned with some hot towels. After she toweled off the oils she told me to roll over on my back so she could do the front side.
She then worked on the front side of each area. Each time she moved to a new region she lifted the blanket completely off of me, which brings me to wonder why she originally knocked on the door, considering every time she lifted the blanket my penis and bare ass greeted her. Not to mention she straight up massaged the ass area, and got quite close to the balls and taint. Is that normal, or was I raped?
While I laid on my back, the one body part I was concerned about causing some embarrassment ended up behaving itself nicely. Not sure how I would have handled that situation. My buddy Trevor told me he went to a similar style massage place where his masseuse asked at the end if he wanted a happy ending. Trevor passed, because the masseuse was a dude. Just playing, about the dude part, but his female masseuse seriously asked if he wanted one. I think my masseuse might have asked me if I was standing at attention.
After she finished with my ankles she notified me the hour was up and recommended that I go with the deep tissue massage next time, because of the gigantic knots in my back that she did her best to work out. The hour went by quickly, and the moment she left the room I felt like a ton of bricks had been removed from my back. My legs also felt lighter when I stood up to get dressed.
Once my clothes were back on I opened the door and she was waiting for me with a cup of water. I gave her a tip and the lady at the front desk asked me how I felt. I told her I’d definitely be back, because I could notice the difference in my appearance and comfort level.
I figured I’d surely be sore the next day, because she stimulated muscles I didn’t even know I had. Incredibly it didn’t even take that long for the soreness to kick in. When I got home I sat down to do some work, and after two hours I got up off my desk chair and could already feel the effects of the massage. All I wanted to do the following morning was lay in bed.
I’m generally not a person who enjoys being in a state of vulnerability, but I have to say that I most certainly will be getting a massage again. That is unless I was raped, and you’re just not telling me.