I’m going to base the following opinion on a statistically suspect sample of N=1, but hey, why not.
When G and I were on our honeymoon in Mexico, they had a complementary massage session at the hotel where we stayed. I looked forward to this with some trepidation, being that I had never partaken of a masseuse / masseur before, and I figured having some stranger rubbing oil all over me would be more than a little awkward. But, I was game.
When the appointment arrived, I walked into the darkened room and laid down on the table, at which point a nice masseuse walked in and commenced her work. Getting oiled up felt a little weird, but then the shoulder part was pretty soothing, so I chilled out and settled in.
Then, ow. A lot.
Thanks, I feel so refreshed
I don’t know if I’m extra stiff or what — I used to always do well at the sit ‘n reach back in the elementary gym-class day, and my college jujitsu course instructors noted how weirdly far my joints could bend before I had to tap out — but that massage hurt. At one point I think my arm got put into a police submission hold, then my knees were bent back a lot farther than they’re supposed to go — that was especially rough after the 2006 knee surgery tightened things up down there. Being a dude unfamiliar with this whole thing, I of course opted to grit it out silently and act like it felt great to have my ligaments popping and locking without the benefit of Carlton’s breakdancing lessons, but it didn’t.
Anyway, don’t pay for a massage, because they aren’t that cool. And as a guy who has gotten exactly one in my lifetime, I know.
Thanks for reading, and may your day be filled with General Tso’s chicken. I ate some today and it was amazing.