I woke up a few months ago on 'Super Sunday' with a weird neck ache. It was 2/1/15 and Super Bowl XLIX was ready to kick off that day in Arizona and I had a pain in my neck. I figured I had just slept on it wrong and it would be fine. But over the next few days it got progressively worse, moving down to my back and eventually my left arm. I kept thinking it would get better but it did not. It felt like there was knife sticking into my upper left back, with pain and numbness running down my left arm to the point that I could not feel my elbow or pinkie finger. The only slight relief I could find was if I hunched my left shoulder up and mashed my left cheek onto it while raising my left arm over my head. I could not walk around like that though because it looked like I was giving some weird Nazi salute. The pain was constant, day and night, making it hard to sleep.
Finally a week later I realized it was not going to get better on its own so on Tuesday the 10th I made an appointment to see my chiropractor. She is a totally cool lady and fun to talk to and I hoped she could fix me up. She cranked on me for awhile and told me to give her 4 appointments and she would have me back on the right track. It felt a little better but not much. I went back two days later on Thursday and she cranked on me again and told me I should get a massage. The pain was not getting any better but she said a deep tissue massage would help. I had done a little research of my own on the problem and I was starting to think it was a pinched nerve, but she insisted that I should get that a massage so I said I would.
My wife Nadia had a gift certificate for a $100 massage at Simonson’s Salon & Spa that she had gotten for Christmas. She said I could use it, but I was a little dubious. Was I, a guy, supposed to be going to a beauty salon? With relief I then remembered I also had a Christmas gift card for a massage with the awesome daughter of a friend of mine from work. I had been to her a few times in the past and she has magic hands. She is so good though that when I tried to make an appointment with her she was booked out at least 3 weeks. I could not wait that long as I was getting no sleep with the constant pain and needed help right away. I guess I was going to have to go to the salon.
So I called Simonson’s and was told that their female masseuse was on vacation so they only had a guy available. He could see me the next day on Friday. Really? My only option was to get rubbed down by a dude at a salon?? I hesitated with the girl on the phone and said I didn’t know if I was cool with that, but she said that guys tend to have stronger hands and if I am having a medical issue it is better to have a guy. I stalled for a bit and finally relented…she talked me into it. My massage was scheduled for the next day at 4 pm after work.
I had strong reservations the second I hung up the phone. I have had probably ten pro-massages in my life, but they have all been with girls. I had mixed feelings. A guy?? Rubbing and touching me…touching and rubbing. What if I enjoy it? Usually I have had them done by the daughter of the work friend I mentioned. She is female, but she is a lesbian so I know there is no possibility of anything sexual. Although lesbians of course turn me on in general, I have known her since she was a kid so I do not think of her that way…even when she is rubbing me and getting close to my good parts. I was not sure if I was going to feel comfortable having some dude oiling me down and rubbing my whole body and getting close to my good parts. It seemed very weird to me. What if…what if it moved? I felt exactly like George Costanza.
The next day was Friday the 13th. I did not sleep very well…a combination of pain and uneasiness. I thought about it all day at work. Should I just call and cancel? I could do that. I did not have to go to the salon. I could pay the $100 and go somewhere else. It would be good for me though I finally decided. One of life’s interesting little roadblocks that builds character as you maneuver through it. I pulled into Simonson’s Salon & Spa in Plymouth, MN at 3:45pm that afternoon. I thought one last time about ditching the whole thing as I parked next to a pink and blue ‘Molly Maid’ car. What if someone I know sees me? With a sigh I decided to go for it and quickly walked inside trying to act cool. I had a cool black leather jacket on. Was that cool enough? I looked around and saw that I was the only guy in there. My heart sank. I was not supposed to be here, but I got in line with the rest of the women. There was an incredibly large woman right in front of me that I could sort of hide behind which was nice. But then an incredibly hot woman got in right behind me. It did not matter though because I was not a man anymore…I had no illusions of trying to be cool.
When I finally got up to the counter I whispered: “I’m here for my 4 o’clock massage.” She asked me if I had been there before, and when I quickly shook my head ‘no’ she dutifully and carefully took down all of my information while the hot chick waited behind me. Then she told me ‘Lanier’ would be with me in a bit as she led me down a hall and introduced me to a back waiting room with a few other ladies in there reading magazines. I took a quick glance at the magazines strewn about and of course there was no Sports Illustrated or ESPN…just Glamour and Cosmopolitan. So I sat down with my cell phone and tried to pull up ESPN, but I was not getting any reception back there so I had to stare at my phone and pretend to look at my manly messages while waiting for my masseuse.
Lanier came and got me after a few minutes and led me further down the hall to a back-back room. It was dark, warm, and unpleasantly pleasant. We stood there and sized each other up. Lanier was short, muscular, Latino, wearing a skin-tight muscle-shirt and thankfully a man of few words. He asked me if there was any particular part or parts of my body I wanted him to focus on, or should he give me the general full-body massage I had signed up for? I told him about my back problem, and then I tried to tell him that my calves were also sore but it came out all wrong. I wanted to tell him that I had been to a rock concert over the weekend (I had gone to see ‘The New Orleans Suspects’ at Bunkers Music Bar which meant a long night of rocking and partying), but for some reason it came out: “Yeah I was out dancing at a downtown nightclub over the weekend so my calves are really sore.” It sounded incredibly gay as I heard the words I was saying and I gave a nervous chuckle. He politely laughed and said he would take care of my calves.
Then he left the room so I could get undressed. I was not going to go commando so I stripped down to my boxers. It was then I noticed I was wearing ‘Family Guy’ boxers that had a picture of a naked Stewie on the front looking like Cupid with the words ‘Sex Party’ in fancy writing beneath him. “Well that’s just perfect” I thought. Lanier totally thinks I’m gay, and now these boxers are an invitation for him to have his way with me. When he came back and started in on my back with the oil I got scared and told him to abort the full body massage (“ABORT!”) and that he could just work on my back for the whole hour. I tensely held on to the front of the table in a white-knuckle grip as his strong, firm, experienced hands slowly worked the oil into my back and my neck. After a few minutes I began to relax just a little bit. I gotta admit, he was good…but I am definitely going to stick with women from now on. I tried the other team, but I am happy to report that it did not move and now I’m back baby!
Poor Lanier…I guess I totally led him on. I am sure he probably wanted to massage my 12 lbs of dangling fury and instead he had to settle for just my back. I gave him a nice tip though and then ran out of there as fast as I could.
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