Well, I got pleasantly surprised by my first Giftmas present last night. Jen forced 
me to meet her downtown after work and on our 15-minute walk there, I guessed about 47 wrong answers, including the Harlem Globetrotters, a Krispy Kreme tour and a couple’s therapist. Before I knew it, I was being led into a room and being told to take my clothes off. I was really hoping it wasn’t the Krispy Kreme tour.
So anyway, this was my first professional massage and I really wish I had prepared maybe a little better. I hadn’t shaved my back in a few months and I was down to my last pair of boxers before laundry day, thankfully still on their first rotation. They were clean, but old and possibly stained. I’m not sure. I just threw them away after the session was over.
I was honestly a little nervous. Thankfully I hadn’t eaten any cheese all day, which was good news for everybody. Jen and I were getting an hour-long massage together. The masseuses came in and though it was dark, I could tell hers was a muscular foreign guy and mine was an attractive foreign girl. Jen was underneath a sheet the entire time. I had a washcloth over my ass. I was praying that I didn’t get a noticeable erection. At first. By the end, I was a little upset that I didn’t. And it wasn’t for lack of trying on Yuliya’s part. Or mine. Apparently, you get yelled at for shoving your finger up your ass during a massage. But you don’t get kicked out like you do at Mid-Atlantic Physical Therapy. And there was no happy ending either. At least not until about an hour later. When we went out for sushi. Then had sex.
So the massage ended and we both shamefully toweled off and proceeded not to make eye contact with one another for the next 10 minutes. I went to the bathroom, which thankfully had a sign saying “Employees Must Wash Their Hands Before Returning to Work.” That seems like agood company practice. On the way out, they gave us their business cards and schedules. And I guess it’s not standard practice since Yuliya didn’t do it, but Jen’s guy put his cell phone number on there. And directions to his house. But I doubt that means anything.
Lying still and thinking about baseball,
The massaganist.
Still Standing Right Here…
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