I'll have what she's having

Dan and I were supposed to go to this today (I'm aware that I'm opening myself---but, more likely Dan---up to some intense ball-busting here) but he'll be staying in CT for at least a few more days to care for his mom post-surgery, which is exactly where he should be. I really couldn't be more proud of him for the son he is being to his mom (but it doesn't mean I don't miss him a heckuva lot right this minute).

Today I went for an 80-minute massage because I was feeling lonely and sometimes you just need to give yourself a gift. I love massages but can rarely justify the expense. However, since we weren't spending the $50 to "awaken our connection" and I also returned my recently purchased $40 Bluetooth ear piece (which I abhorred as much as I thought I would) I felt it would leave no new hole in our finances and went for it.

It was one of the best massages I've ever had and a wise choice given the week's shitty (see yesterday's entry) circumstances. I have to admit that part of the reason it was so great had to do with an improved ability---due to recent practice---to stay there rather than traveling far away into tunnels of thought and thus missing the whole massage (as I've done many, many times before). Oh sure, my brain scampered off for a bit to nose around some unexamined corners and she even tried to traverse some dangerous landscape once while I wasn't looking, but I was able to rein 'er in before she got us both into any trouble.

But a larger part of why I liked the massage so much was that it was a really good massage. And I've had bad ones. I've endured a handful of chatty masseuses; one who even went into gory detail during my entire "relaxation massage" about an incidence of food poisoning that I had no business knowing anything about. Further frustrating, was another masseuse who kept placing her hands on my back or legs---but not moving them or even applying any pressure---as if her energy current alone was going to get the knots out.

I liked my masseuse today.

I liked her despite the fact that she had sort of a stressed-out energy about her instead of that pothead calmness I generally prefer in such situations.

I liked her despite the fact that she sucked back her post-nasal drip the whole time and even had to excuse herself to get a drink of water because the tickle in her throat that she kept fighting back would not relent. (This endeared me to her quite a bit, in fact. Who doesn't know that feeling of trying to hold back a cough, letting the slightest bit out, praying that it's over and then feeling the ominous nagging in your throat once more? Plus, this was way less disturbing to me than the time that, in addition to the dolphin music that they play during massages, I had the soundtrack of the massage therapist's incessant grumbling stomach to ease me into nirvana.)

I liked her despite the fact that, marking a massage first, her hands embarked on a journey that went well below my love handles (tucking the blanket into my drawers and thereby exposing my ass crack; a peculiar discomfort I decided instantly I had to accept)and then ventured into a region that can only be described as northern to central butt cheek. I'm not gonna lie, I think I liked her because of this. When she started rubbing around my clavicle, I thought for a minute that this was going to be a full body massage and I told myself I'd wait a full five seconds---fiiiiiiive miiiiiiissssssiiiiiisssssiiiiippppppiiiii---before objecting. (Kidding...though Dan may be gone for over a week...)

Anyway, not only were her hands bold, but they were strong. She was around my age so I expected her to be somewhat inexperienced (a bias I need to let go of; I'm old now) but she knew what she was doing. I kept thinking---I have to remember her name...shit, what's her name...I know she told me...what was it...oh yeah...it's Laura...dumbass.

Despite walking out of there with, what can only be described as, sex-head---my hair was a lion's mane from having been flipped over my head and streaked with massage oil---I stopped by Blockbuster on the way home and picked up a couple of movies. One is a documentary about the business of crystal meth (I really admire the resourcefulness and entrepreneurial spirit it espouses) and the other is Julie and Julia. I chose that because I knew Dan would never want to rent it (since we already saw it in the theater) and, in addition to wanting to see it again, I'm interested in the the extra features as well as Writer and Director Nora Ephron's commentary.

Have you ever listened to the commentary of a movie? It involves watching the entire movie again but this time you're listening to the director's voice play over the film as s/he provides insight into some of the details of the making of the movie. "In that shot I really wanted her to be eating a hot dog but we tried it with a salami 'cuz that was all the deli had left and that's how the famous salami scene was born!" (One-track mind much?) You really have to like a movie (or be seeking distraction in any form) to sit through it.

The only other time I listened to the entire director's commentary was shortly after I moved to NYC and was feeling so heartbroken and confused about the distance that I had put between Dan and me that I was too distraught to even explore the city and instead stayed in bed all day watching When Harry Met Sally (I'll see NYC through my TV, I thought) and listened to Director Rob Reiner. Now that I think about it, Nora Ephron wrote that movie too.

Weird. Or not that weird but the sort of coincidence that you think is interesting when you've been spending far too much time indoors and alone.

Too late to turn back now; the wine is poured.

Cheers.

"To ass play!"

(Line. Crossed.)