Massage

The first time I ever had a professional massage, I started to cry half-way through it. I wasn't sad or upset, I just felt overcome by too much emotion. I was embarrassed, but the therapist said it isn't unusual. That our muscles have emotional memory and that massage can release those all at once. After 30 minutes of me unable to get control of the tears, he made this observation, "You must not get touched much."

It's true. I guess it's the price you pay for chastity.

His observation reminded me of a story I'd heard when I was young about an entire building of Romanian orphans who died from lack of physical touch, (well maybe not an entire building, but entirely too many orphans!). I decided in that moment that I would do what I could to prevent myself from literally dying from loneliness by engaging in massage as often as I could.

Today, I could and I did. It was a new girl but I was quickly impressed! She seemed to have found that sweet, sweet spot between relaxation and therapeutic that makes me believe the time is productive while not causing me to sharply inhale quite so often. Until the end, when I was face up and she was working my shoulders and neck...it was...spoiled.

I grew up in the wide open spaces of Colorado, surrounded by fresh suburban air! My parents didn't smoke and I can't really remember spending much time at friends' whose parents did. I attended a non-smoking University and just about the time I was entering the "real" world, Clean Air Acts around the nation were passed. So, I guess I'm a little sensitive.

The smell of fresh tobacco doesn't bother me so much. But the smell on the breath of someone who has smoked for years and has now taken great measures to cover it up prior to breathing on your face...well, that is a smell I just can't get used to.

I hope I can find someone who has her sweet skills but not her nicotine addiction. I realize my nose is wimpy because I think I'd rather die from loneliness then try to endure that scenario again.