a mini-vacation

Months ago, I splurge.  I buy a package of three, 60-minute massages from Amazon Local for an Upper Eastside place I’ve never been to called Val E! Salon and Spa.  It’ll be like a mini-vacation, I think.  Very mini.

Yesterday I realize that the coupons expire in a month, so I better start to schedule now. I book an appointment for today.  Today it rains.  It’s a cold, raw, heavy rain — the perfect day to stay in.  I call to re-schedule and am told I can’t; there’s a 24-hour cancellation fee. 

I arrive early and they are ready for me.  Robert walks out.  Robert is a guy.  I had assumed my masseuse would not be a masseur.   I think of my un-exercised body.  I don’t want a strange male to see it.  I ask for a woman.  There is none.  I smile at Robert and tell him I’m sorry, it has nothing to do with him, only his sex, and yes I’ll stay. 

Once my eyes are closed it really doesn’t matter.  (I wonder if this is how guys think!).  Robert has expert hands, and knows just the right amount of pressure to apply.  He uses soothing warm oil that feels great.  The massage lasts a full hour.  I think I like this deep-tissue, Swedish massage better than my last one at Asia-Tui Na where the female masseuse used her elbows.  That was not relaxing, just weird and uncomfortable.

I also wonder if there is massage etiquette?  Am I supposed to ooooh and aahhhh so the masseuse knows I like what he/she is doing, or could that be misinterpreted?  I chose the safe route and just lie there quietly, moving and turning when instructed.

I arrive home relaxed and de-stressed, wishing my vacation had been longer.