So I’ve had two gift cards to a local salon and day spa here in Charleston for a really long time. One I got for Christmas from my bosses almost three years ago, and the other I won from the boys’ orthodontist office for Mother’s Day.
I refuse to spend $200 on my hair (even when it’s not my money I’m spending), so I decided that a couples massage sounded good. A nearly free couples massage sounded even better. Here’s their website’s description: Performed in a private room with a therapist for each client, couples can share an integrative massage while enjoying each other’s company.
Oh. Now is probably a good time to mention the fact that I’ve never had a massage before. Nope – never. So going with Eugene, who has had several, sounded even better. If I had any questions, he’d be able to answer them, and he could show me the ropes.
We get there, and right away the spa girl takes us to our respective changing rooms. She tells me to get changed, put on a robe, and come back out to wait on our therapists. Okay, so far, so good. Except as soon as I get nearly naked, someone busts into the room where I’m changing. Awkward. But that’s okay… I’m not going to let anyone ruin my first heavenly massage.
When we get into our room, my massage lady asks me what kind of pressure I want. Pressure? No pressure! I’m here to take all the pressure away. I need to relax. No, no, no, silly. She means what kind of pressure do I want for my massage… duh. Oops. I look at her like I don’t speak English and then whisper, “Um, I don’t really know. It’s my first time.”
In response, she raises her eyebrows at me, a bit surprised, and she yells in response, “WHAT?! IT’S YOUR FIRST TIME EVER?! OH, HOW EXCITING!” Really, lady? Geez.
Anyway, once she explains what I should expect, she finally starts on the massage. My back … my shoulders … my legs … my feet … my head. It. Was. Glorious. At one point, I was so relaxed, I thought I was going to fall through the little hole where you put your face.
Source: Boston Bodyworker
The funny part about the “integrative” couples massage, though, is that there was nothing integrative about it. I was on my table, and Eugene was on his table. I had my eyes closed, and Eugene had his eyes closed. And needless to say, we sure as heck didn’t talk to each other. We were there to relax – not to talk – we didn’t want to ruin it!
When we’re done, as we’re on our way back to get dressed, my lady yells, once again – “SO HOW WAS YOUR FIRST TIME?” Ugh. What the hell, lady? Can’t you be as quiet as you were while you were working? You’re ruining it for me. It reminded me of when Eugene tells me that I’m sexier with my mouth closed. Now I know what he means…
After we get in the car and we’re on our way to the next best thing of the day (Starbucks!), Eugene asks me how I liked it, what my favorite part was, blah blah blah. I tell him all about what I thought of it, and then I ask him what his favorite part was.
His response:
“When my girl lifted up the blanket and folded it over so she could do my leg, she accidentally touched my balls.”
Jackpot. Money well spent.
Imperfectly Perfect 