Getting a massage has been on my bucket list for years. I’ve never gotten one because it has always seemed like such an indulgence. They can be expensive and every time I get close to scheduling one, I end up telling myself it’s unnecessary.

 

Call me Robert Kraft, but I’ve been dying to see what the fuss is about. It wasn’t until recently that my wish finally came true.

 

Ryan and I just vacationed in St. Andrews, Scotland. And like one does in St. Andrews, we woke up early every morning to play golf. By the sixth consecutive day of golf, I felt like Tiger Woods. To be clear, I’m not talking about the Tiger Woods who’s won 15 majors. I’m talking about the Tiger whose ex-wife kicked his ass with a nine iron. 

 

I think for my 30th birthday my body  made a deal with the devil and ever since it’s been owned and operated by that asshole “Mayhem”, from the Allstate insurance commercials. Six days of golf was a grind and I was finally ready for that massage I’ve longed for.  

 

I scheduled a couples massage. 

 

The spa was amazing. Our two massage therapists were soft-spoken, sweet younger women. They handed us robes and escorted us to the locker rooms. They asked us to change and to meet in the “Relaxation Room”. 

 

I stripped down and headed to the room. Ryan was taking forever! Finally he walked in… fully clothed with a robe over his shorts and t-shirt. 

 

     “This can’t be real.” I said to him. “Is this a joke?”

     “What?” He responded.  “I don’t know her. I don’t want her to think she has to touch my skin if she doesn’t want to.”

 

At that moment I didn’t know if I wanted to kick him in the nads for being clueless or spend the rest of the afternoon just spooning with him. It was sweet of him to think about the massage therapist. I snagged me a male feminist. And in the poignant words of Paris Hilton, “that’s hot”. 

 

But still, the man is clueless.

 

     “Ryan, she went to school to touch backs. She’s certified in back touching. In fact it’s possible she even took on student debt just to touch backs.  It’s something she enjoys doing. Establish a safe word with her if it makes you feel better, but please go whip out that Dad bod. I don’t want to yell at you… not here… not in the Relaxation Room.”

 

At last, we buried our faces in the massage tables. 

 

Ryan requested and received a full body massage. I requested a massage that focused on my neck, back and shoulders. However, what happened was a lot of butt stuff.

 

It started off great. My neck felt amazing and my shoulders were getting the royal treatment. As my masseuse started working my back, I started to slip into a deep state of relaxation. She was really hitting all my sore muscles. But then things started to head south.

 

My masseuse was heading so far south that I almost yanked my head out of its cubbie hole to yell, “build that wall”.

 

But there was no point. By now her hands were massaging not just my butt cheeks, but they were massaging my crack.

 

I know this is a family blog, but I have to be honest. She spent so much time near my crack I thought she was digging for Chilean miners. 

 

I started to panic. What if she finds Chipotle corn? I mean my ass has never gotten THIS much attention. I felt like a Kardashian.

 

There was no way I could relax. Was this normal? Was it a European thing? I laid there for 30 minutes flexing my cheeks and fighting back nervous farts. 

 

No amount of eucalyptus could have masked the smell of discomfort that was radiating off my body. 

 

Finally, a soft voice tickled my eardrum, “Shannon, this completes your massage. We will give you two a few minutes to get dressed.”

 

I shot off the table. Ryan gently pulled himself to an upright position. He was glowing like a nine month pregnant woman. 

 

     “That was so relaxing. How was your massage?” He asked.

 

     “I’ll tell you in the Relaxation Room… but let’s just say massages aren’t what they are cracked up to be”.

 

I can finally mark “massage” off my to-do list, but to be honest I’d like to wash my hands of this entire experience… and I sincerely hope she does too.