I went to professional thai massage therapy recommended by my colleagues. I had extreme reservations because of… well, you know, it’s a thai massage. But my colleagues swore that the salon was legit, very professional, articulate staff, no sexual component included, very relaxing, does wonders for your neck. So what the hell, as a desk jockey my neck hurts all the time, I’ll give it a try.
Cautiously, I booked a neck and shoulder massage online. When I turned up, there was no receptionist, just a harried-looking middle-aged thai lady who spoke not a word of any language comprehensible to me. She hustled me into a bare room with a forlorn massage table in the middlle, and told me via Google Translate to remove my clothes.
Startled to obedience, I removed my button-up shirt and approached the table. This did not go down well with the lady, who prodded me with a bony finger and indicated that t-shirt and trousers should go too. I tried to point out that I had booked a neck and shoulders massage but to no avail. CLOTHES OFF SIR nagged the phone screen.
So there I was, in my embarrassing tighty whities shivering in a cold room, wishing I had worn my “Sounds GAY I’m in” boxers, undoubtedly about to be ravished by an increasingly annoyed thai lady who kept prodding and poking me towards the table.
I’ll not go into details about what happened, except it was not in any way what I was expecting. She mauled me with a strength of dozen bears, cracking my joints, pulverizing my buttocks. She turned my unwilling chubby body into such contortions that I had to squeeze my sphincter shut as if my life depended on it, in order not to rip out a series of massive farts. I’ll give her that there indeed was no happy ending, but it was an hour of absolute agony and I when I finally limped out, tears in my eyes, belt undone and my shirt buttons crooked, I felt like I had been waterboarded by CIA for weeks.
I don’t think I need to say that it was the first and last massage in my life.
Yeah, I’ve accidentally walked into a seedy massage once or twice…I mean, if you’ve got pain you want got rid of and you see a sign that says, “walk-ins welcome,” you ignore a lot of warning signs. Even though it soon became obvious that I wasn’t their typical clientele, I appreciate how they just get in there and do the job. It seems most legit places are afraid to do anything–which I guess makes sense since massage therapy can sometimes result in sexual harassment suits.
But, yeah, no more Asian massages. Sadly, there don’t seem to be any legit ones, which is a shame because you have shady businesses ruining it for immigrants who legitimately want to provide a good massage.
I’m just not into having a massage from someone I’m not romantically entangled with. Some people are, hard no from me.
That said, my wife is Thai. Massage skills seem to be something like Swimming is to Australians or cooking to Italians. You learn some at school but it’s such a big part of your cultural identity that everyone just knows how to do it.
She very frequently tells me that massages aren’t supposed to feel good nor are they supposed to be relaxing. Apparently a good massage hurts and you take as much pain as you can bear in order to “fix your muscles”.
We’ve been together for 13 years now and I’m still not sure how much I believe her.
I went to professional thai massage therapy recommended by my colleagues. I had extreme reservations because of… well, you know, it’s a thai massage. But my colleagues swore that the salon was legit, very professional, articulate staff, no sexual component included, very relaxing, does wonders for your neck. So what the hell, as a desk jockey my neck hurts all the time, I’ll give it a try.
Cautiously, I booked a neck and shoulder massage online. When I turned up, there was no receptionist, just a harried-looking middle-aged thai lady who spoke not a word of any language comprehensible to me. She hustled me into a bare room with a forlorn massage table in the middlle, and told me via Google Translate to remove my clothes.
Startled to obedience, I removed my button-up shirt and approached the table. This did not go down well with the lady, who prodded me with a bony finger and indicated that t-shirt and trousers should go too. I tried to point out that I had booked a neck and shoulders massage but to no avail. CLOTHES OFF SIR nagged the phone screen.
So there I was, in my embarrassing tighty whities shivering in a cold room, wishing I had worn my “Sounds GAY I’m in” boxers, undoubtedly about to be ravished by an increasingly annoyed thai lady who kept prodding and poking me towards the table.
I’ll not go into details about what happened, except it was not in any way what I was expecting. She mauled me with a strength of dozen bears, cracking my joints, pulverizing my buttocks. She turned my unwilling chubby body into such contortions that I had to squeeze my sphincter shut as if my life depended on it, in order not to rip out a series of massive farts. I’ll give her that there indeed was no happy ending, but it was an hour of absolute agony and I when I finally limped out, tears in my eyes, belt undone and my shirt buttons crooked, I felt like I had been waterboarded by CIA for weeks.
I don’t think I need to say that it was the first and last massage in my life.
Yeah, I’ve accidentally walked into a seedy massage once or twice…I mean, if you’ve got pain you want got rid of and you see a sign that says, “walk-ins welcome,” you ignore a lot of warning signs. Even though it soon became obvious that I wasn’t their typical clientele, I appreciate how they just get in there and do the job. It seems most legit places are afraid to do anything–which I guess makes sense since massage therapy can sometimes result in sexual harassment suits.
But, yeah, no more Asian massages. Sadly, there don’t seem to be any legit ones, which is a shame because you have shady businesses ruining it for immigrants who legitimately want to provide a good massage.
Yeah.
I’m just not into having a massage from someone I’m not romantically entangled with. Some people are, hard no from me.
That said, my wife is Thai. Massage skills seem to be something like Swimming is to Australians or cooking to Italians. You learn some at school but it’s such a big part of your cultural identity that everyone just knows how to do it.
She very frequently tells me that massages aren’t supposed to feel good nor are they supposed to be relaxing. Apparently a good massage hurts and you take as much pain as you can bear in order to “fix your muscles”.
We’ve been together for 13 years now and I’m still not sure how much I believe her.