Not THAT kind of Massage

I love massages.  I love back massages.  I love shoulder massages.  I love feet massages.  I really love head massages.  (Stop, just stop.) 

Basically, I'm a fan of anything that's simple and relaxing, and not too deep.  You'll never see me getting a Swedish deep tissue rub down for the same reason that I don't have any tattoos.  I believe in the pleasure principle.  All pleasure, all the time.  I like lotions and creams and oils.  (But no Peppermint!) Soft music?  Bring it on! 

Only ONCE have I had a professional massage.

When I was younger I used to pay my sister Aimee for a massage.  I'd just got a job bagging groceries at Safe-way for $7 bucks an hour and even though I loved buying books and Cd's, I needed something to accompany them.  Like a cold Corona when you're sprawled on the beach in your chaise lounge.  So I cut her a deal.  You give me an hour massage, I'll give you 4 bucks.  Before you scream "Bloody Jesus!", remember: I had a job, she didn't.  She loved food, I was creating a means for her to buy it.  As much as I liked massages, she liked 7-11 Slur-pees.   

And Aimee was an expert masseuse.  In fact, she was so good that after awhile an hour wasn't long enough.  Sounds really bad but I quickly learned how to stretch it even longer.  I'd say something like "Are you tired?"  And she'd ask, "Why?" 

"Because I haven't felt anything for the last ten minutes."
"My hand hurts."
"My back hurts.  C'mon, just five more minutes." 

And I'd squeeze five more minutes out of her.  It pays being the bigger brother.

That lasted until I hit high school when having a younger sister was no longer cool.  My next masseuse was my high school girlfriend.  That's when I learned a very valuable lesson: sometimes massages can start out a massage and end up somewhere totally differently.  And you didn't always have to use your hands. 

After that my massages were just an excuse to explore.  I tried to be good but my fingers were just too curious.  My mind too naughty.  It didn't help if the room was dark and we were in bed and her shirt was off and ... I always knew the girls that just wanted to be friends.  When my hands would start to "investigate", they'd say "Whoa, where do you plan on taking those?"  At the time I had absolutely no game, so I'd say "Um, nowhere!" and instantly withdraw my hand. 

Other times -- the very, very few -- I'd be on the receiving end just praying that she (whomever she was at that moment) would go there.  I'd help her out with subtle hints.  I'd lean into fingers, arch my ass in the air, exclaim "Oh....." when she got anywhere close but it rarely worked.  Instead, she'd stop and in a really chirpy voice say "Okay, your turn."  Damn.  At least I tried.

And then there was Ana. 

Ana's got a style all her own.  It all starts out so innocently.  I rest my head on her lap, she starts to massage my head, and run her fingers through my hear.  I lay back, relax, close my eyes, exhale --

And then THE PINCERS come out.

I shoot up in pain.  "Ow!"

Ana laughs.  "Sorry, babe.  You had a blackhead.  I had to get it."

And she rubs my head, and starts to massage me again.  I relax, take a deep breath, rest my head on her lap and suddenly --

"Ow."

She laughs.  "Baby, another.  Can you believe it?"

"Sweetie, stop."  I push her hand away.  "I thought you were going to give me a massage."

"I am.  But first I have to get these blackheads."

"Baby, after."

"No, I need to do it now.  It's really, really bad."

And she spends the next fifteen minutes examining my face.  With her fingernails.

Pinch. Pop.  Ow! 

Pinch. Pop.  Ow!

Repeat.

I've never had acupuncture, you know, where they stick all those big, long needles in your skin but I imagine the feeling must be something like that. 

The best I can manage is: "Are your hands clean?"

"I just washed them."

Oh, so she KNEW she was going to be doing this.

Massages, as I've said earlier, can sometimes lead to other things.  Why does mine lead to THIS? 

But I think it's just something women have, a sort of maternal instinct.  They see something, naturally they have to correct it.  Counter-top has food, they wipe it off.  Picture frame is crooked, they straighten it.  Kid's shirt untucked?  They tuck it in -- and hand him a belt.

I remember the first time I bonded with Ana's dad.  I mean, really bonded.

It was February 08, and I was in Brazil for the first time.  We were at Ana's parent's house in the living room talking and resting our stomachs after a huge five course dinner her mom had made special for me. 

Mr. Castro's lying on the couch.  Bia, Ana's sister and his daughter, takes a seat next to him.  She grabs a pillow, slides it atop her lap and rests his head atop it.  She pats him on the shoulders and then starts to rub his bald head.  He smiles, closes his eyes. 

Don't do it, Mr. Castro!  Don't do it!

Too late.  His eyes fly open, and he sits up rubbing his face.

"Sorry, Dad, just had to pop it."

Mr Castro and I exchange looks.

Apparently, I'm not the only one with blackheads.

-- PAPA

What kind of masseuse are YOU? 

Comments

[Carrisa]

My mom is kind of like that. Only she wants you to check her back and pop any that you find. No thank you.

And my favorite thing in the world is to haev my hair played with. Next time we hang out we'll trade platonic head rubs ok?

[Rachel M.]

Lazy, I'm incredibly lazy and expect hubs to do all the massage work, after all I did just carry his child for 8 months. Not sure what my excuse was prior.

[Karl]

I love massages, too. Fortunately, I don't have blackheads because that might make me run for cover, having a woman insistent upon grooming my face by gouging it with dagger nails.

[Leslie]

Ana is a woman after my own heart. I do the same thing to my husband. I just can't help myself!

[Wendy]

I've only ever squeezed one black head. It was on Thomas's back and he *begged* to get it. And I'll never tell my kid to tuck shirt in. In fact, I've told him to un-tuck it! lol.

But here's a great massage technique you should have Ana try. Have her grab a handful of your hair, and pull gently. Oh my god it feels so good and relaxes you all the way down your shoulders.