Good Man and I got our massages tonight. I’d signed up for a couple’s massage, but they had us in two different rooms. Good Man said it wouldn’t matter, but I knew he was really nervous about the massage, so I asked if we could be in the same room. They said sure, but that it would take a few minutes to set up.
(Apparently their appointments are taken through a call center and if you want to be in the same room, you have to be very specific.)
While they set up, Good Man said, “I can wear my regular clothes, right?”
“No, honey, strip down to your boxers.” He wrinkled his nose at me. “They’re going to use oil so they can massage you. You can’t do that with clothes. I know you’re a little nervous, but we’ll be in the same room, and you can tell them if you’re uncomfortable.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Good Man was snoring mid-massage. He certainly got comfortable quickly. His therapist had him wake up just long enough to turn over, and ten minutes later, I could hear his sleep breathing. I started giggling a little bit and his therapist said, “I have that effect on people,” with a smile.
When the massage was over, after the therapists left, Good Man woke up. “킅?” It’s done? Yes, and you slept through most of it.
We will be going back. We got there at exactly our appointment time (a no-no, I know, especially since it was our first visit) and they had to set up the joint room, so we didn’t get started until about 15 minutes into our time. Yet they gave us the entire hour. I thanked them for that at the end, because I know that normally if you arrive late, it’s your problem.
Ahhhh, a blissful, hedonistic Tuesday night date!