John, the masseuse

I know you won't believe that I have 'catching up' to do, since my last post was only 4 days ago, but that was just a 'post it cuz it's cute' entry. The truth is, I have FUNNY stories. Oh, the rarity, I know. I think I'll break up this post, so you don't have to feel like reading all of my stories at the same time. Plus, this one doesn't have pictures. (Heather, don't read this first part aloud to your kids!)

Last week we had a girl's night out for my sister's bday celebration. After MUCH deliberating, we decided to go get massages, get take out, and watch Mamma Mia. Total chic night, right? I scheduled the massages for the 3 of us and they politely asked if we preferred male or female masseuses (I actually spelled that right, first try!). I assured her that I didn't care, but that I was unsure of the other two girls, so we probably ought to just do all female. Agreed. Fast forward a couple of days to massage night. We're sitting in the waiting area for our massages and 2 people come in after us and are called first. They had MALE masseuses, so I joked that we would've gotten in first if we had agreed to males too. We laughed and the next masseuses come out one by one calling us by name:

Heidi says: Melissa?
Camille says: Nicole?
John says: Brand-aaaay?

Yes, that's right, JOHN!! 'Oh for real', I think to myself as I take in all of John. He is excessively tan for January, he has more product in his hair than I've ever considered, and he has a barbed wire tatoo on his bi-cep. Plus, he said my name like someone from the T-Birds. (At this point, Melissa and Nicole have exchanged glances, but have not made a scene. Apparently, Melissa excused herself from Heidi to go track down Nicole to make sure I would be 'okay' with John. Nic laughed and assured Mel that I'd be just fine.) During the next 50 minutes I wavered between thinking John was gay and John was hitting on me. I can't even recount all the things that made me on the fence, but they were all comical. Even more so, because I was laying vulnerably nude under a blanket! He mentioned that he had a BMW with heated, leather seats, asked if I'd been working out because my arms were 'rock solid', told me that if he used 'firm compressions', my feet wouldn't be ticklish in a massage, etc. All of which could mean he was gay or straight. Back to the icky, hilarious part of the massage. At the beginning of the massage, when they ask if you'd like any particular muscles worked on, I mentioned the basics. I did, also, mention that I DID NOT want my feet massaged. I'm too ticklish to ever enjoy it fully and it just makes me irritated when the massage time is so precious to me. Throughout the massage, I decided that John has a foot fetish. He could not stop touching, tugging, and straightening my feet. He didn't ever 'massage' them, but my heck, leave them alone. He even said at one point how much I was missing out not having my feet done. That he could spend hours on the feet. Listen, John, I DON'T CARE! Leave my feet alone. And then, we had to joke afterward that he reached in a little too close with other parts of his body while leaning over my feet to reach my shins/calves to massage. Ewwwwww, but we had some tear filled laughs over it. John mentioned that a 50 minute massage is just not long enough, but ya know, I felt it was just fine this time. I'll be REQUESTING female masseuses for the rest of my life now. Thanks, John!