Kiddingly called a “massage whore” by my friends in 2008 due to being therapeutically worked-on every Friday for 90 minutes over 1,600 times since 1985, I had just switched masseurs to a very loving older lady in her late 70’s, that was a Certified Neuro-muscular Specialist.
A former cow-milker in Wisconsin, God blessed her with hands stronger than a man.
Always trying to hook-me-up with her partners in crime acupuncturist and yoga teacher, I diligently resisted, already quite familiar with the way that men do ~ women gossip.
I made the change to the Wisconsin cow milker because my 3 previous female masseurs liked me a little way too much.
So much so that the entire therapy session where I wanted to rest in total quiet, was filled with their incessant "happy talk", wanting to know all about my private life.
The last lady went as far as constantly trying to sexually arouse me, violating the Florida regulations of massaging below the waist.
As I crossed the glistening waters surrounding the Ringling Bridge in Sarasota, Florida, I was looking forward to my first 2008 massage on Friday January 4.
After all of my “looking for love in all the wrong places” since getting divorced in September 2006, I decided that I was going to take a break from dating for the entire year of 2008.
Very content with my decision for a much-needed sabbatical from courting a woman wino 7 years older than me and thank God ~ just 1 date with a former Miss Alabama, I entered the massage therapist’s office feeling totally free of wanting female companionship.
But just as I was told by the receptionist that my therapy room was ready, I saw what seemed a larger-than-life woman signing her receipt.
Reminding me of the Amazon that stalked me when I was 16 years old at Safeway Food Stores in San Francisco, this female looked like an Irish Rita Hayworth on steroids.
Featuring a strong chin, I foolishly thought to myself that this large lady “could really take a good punch.”
Thinking that bigger was better ~ my Lord was I blind to THE TRUTH!
Sneakily asking my therapist who reminded me that I just had confirmed to her that I was through with dating in 2008 ~ “who that lady was that just checked out”, she smugly asked me why?
Stating that I felt a 4th dimensional connection, she shook her head, told me to take my clothes off and get ready for the therapy.
Usually trying to persuade me to join her Bahai Faith religion during our 90-minute sessions, this time I was the one that kept asking questions about the woman that just left.
Upon paying for my outstanding muscle relaxing massage, I asked her if she knew that lady’s phone number.
Saying that it was unethical for her to tell me, she said that if I was really so inclined to connect after confirming that I didn’t want to date anymore, to give her my e’mail address and that she would forward it.
Pleased with her response, I headed home with that Irish red-haired bombshell stuck in my brain.