I got a massage yesterday because my back has been bothering me a bit over the past week, and I remembered that when I was doing regular massages, my body hated me a little less. Anyway, this was my first time having a guy actually massage my back in a professional manner.
So let’s first talk about the anxiety I had about stripping down to my underwear and exposing my back in all its naked and fat roll glory to a man I didn’t really know. That’s really it. High anxiety and insecurity. But I did it, and the massage was amazing, painful, but amazing. Working through the stress knots in my shoulders and the tension in my lower back that was already sore was exactly what my back needed.
But then halfway through the massage he gently takes one arm out from under my head that I had propped myself up on, because my boobs will never allow me to actually use that horse shoe face holder they have. Anyway, he’s got my arm in his hands hanging down below the table and he gently slides his hands down until the tips of his fingers graze the lower palms of my hands near my wrist and I realize how much I miss human touch.
It has been so long since someone has held my hand, touched my face, felt someone’s arms around me. And I have to say of all the things to miss about being in a relationship, this is what I miss most.
I’m writing about it because I was almost taken back by his hands grazing mine that I almost burst in to tears on the spot. Thankfully he bumped the wall with his chair and caused me to laugh instead.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
No, that's not true. I’m lonely.
