Bodacious Boomer

I think that most women consider a massage a true luxury- a luxury that most of us cannot afford these days. You lay down and tell the masseuse exactly what you want- and they do it. They have magic hands-not too hard, not too soft, just right. It’s a wonderful thing where you can go and be alone, away from all intrusions. An experience where you can just chill and totally relax with no expectations at the end. When it’s over you’re always bummed, because you could’ve just drifted off to sleep.

Then there is a massage from your husband. To a man, a massage should always have a “happy ending”. (We all know what that means.) To us, it usually means getting totally relaxed and drifting off to sleep. The slightest indication of us wanting his kind of “happy ending” at the end of our massage is seen by our husbands like the starting flag at the Indy 500.

Unless your experiences are very different from mine, which I doubt, it goes like this. You say, “Sweet Pea,( You can substitute the nickname of your choice.) how about giving me a massage?” He says, “You mean now? (No, I mean a month from next Tuesday.)  But, yada- yada’s on next.” (You can substitute whatever works for you for yada-yada.) “Never mind. I just thought it’d be nice.” Now you have his attention. His brain switches off TV and onto sex (at least most of his brain.)

In a perfect world he would tell you to relax in the tub while he gets things ready. You’d get out of the tub and there would be candles flickering, a big towel placed on the bed so the massage oil won’t get on the sheets. Soft music is playing. You lay down and his fingers know just what to do to unknot your muscles and remove your tension. When it’s over, you drift off to sleep.

In reality, you have to get everything ready yourself, probably bypassing the candles and the music, just hoping to really get a massage. As you’re assembling everything, he’s still watching TV. Finally, with a small sigh, he turns it off. For the next 20 minutes you are alternately pinched, knuckled and squashed- his attempt at a massage. (He doesn’t really mean to hurt you. He just doesn’t know what he’s doing.) Somehow, in the middle of this though, you do start to relax and think how good it will be to just go to sleep. You mumble “Thanks honey, good night.” and roll on your side. You’re not really asleep of course, but you are very relaxed.

Now you’re on your side and just about asleep. His hand comes crawling over your shoulder.  It feels like an alien hand- a hand from another world. EVERY woman I have ever discussed this with has laughed while telling me they have had this same exact experience. Now he wants his happy ending. You know now you won’t be going right to sleep, which means no happy ending for you this time- at least not the kind you were expecting before.