The human body is a mystery. That’s a given. We don’t know what makes us fat, and we don’t know why we hurt a lot of the time. We don’t know how often we should sleep, and most of us don’t know wha that bump near our elbow even fucking is.
But we do know being rubbed feels good. Do we know why? Not really. People will say that you’re softening the connective tissue between flesh and muscle. Others will tell you, it relaxes the muscles themselves. And still other damn hippies will tell you that simple human contact in a relaxing environment is what your chakra, or spirit craves. But it works, and we know that. Hard, soft, fast, slow massages done by someone who knows what they’re doing feel amazing.
But getting a good, inconceivably helpful massage is more daunting than it sounds. You get in your car, go to a strip mall, and pay a stranger to take you into a back room, undress you and then rub you down with the intimacy of a lover mixed with the distant separation of a dental hygienist. You pretend it’s not arousing, and they pretend they don’t notice you moaning and erect. OOR they do, and you’re offered a “release.” I don’t know which is creepier. I mean a brothel… you know what you’re getting. But these places don’t exactly have an a la carte menu for the extra stuff if you’re even the kind of weirdo to be down with it. And how do you know if you’re down with it, unless you’ve tried it?
For my money, get a partner that knows how to give a good rub and leave the parlors to the sleaze bags and old bachelors… and women.
Or am I wrong? Do I maybe not know what the hell I’m talking about?
Possibly. You tell me.
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