CAUTION: This post contains words not fit for kids, grandmas, or anyone who is grossed out by severe....grossness.
In my vast experience and research as a massage therapist I've found that one out of every five men who comes in for a massage is a certified creep.
In this day and age, you wouldn't think so many creeps would exist so openly - I mean, it's going to end up on Twitter. Or Facebook. Or....this blog.
A friend of mine offered a massage for a charity fundraiser for a gentleman who was recently in an accident and is now quadriplegic.
When she talked to the man who bought the massage about setting up a time, it turned out her schedule and his schedule would never mesh.
She asked me to do it.
I told her I would.
Sign number one the dude is a creeper: he asked me twice if we had to use sheets as he is "extremely hot natured".
We have to use sheets.
I don't care if you have a body like Arnold in his hey day (he didn't), we have to use sheets.
During the course of the massage, he kept trying to pull the sheets up higher than they needed to be.
Then, he started in on the....noises.
You know the ones - the ones that make you cringe and think, "Good grief, will you please STOP?! This is a massage, not an orgy."
And then...oh, and then... the moving on the table - adjusting hips (and apparently other things) back and forth.
There was definite...gyration.
Stopitstopitstopit! STOP. IT.
I tried to keep him on his belly for as much of the massage as I could because I didn't know what he'd try when I flipped him over.
I was counting down the seconds.
PLEASE LET THIS BE OVER.
I didn't make it the full 60 minutes.
At 50 I had to cut bait and make a run for it because I'd had enough.
I should have quit much, much earlier.
When he came out of the room, he basically cornered me despite the fact that there were three other people in the room and said, "Ugh, please tell me you're local and you're able to do another massage because that was the best massage I've ever had. I mean, I was so relaxed, I didn't want to roll over because I mean, I was fully erect and I didn't want to embarrass you."
Do we have to....talk about it?
And do we have to use the word...erect (grossest word ever)?
Please go away!
Bad news is, he already has my phone number from when I called to set the massage up.
Here's the real question: Who on earth buys a massage at a church charity auction and expects....um...extra (nasty) services?
That's like 49 steps up in creepiness.