It all started with a text, how’d it end up like this?
My husband was getting a hair cut; I was at work.
Him: I just purchased you a 45 minute massage for Saturday morning at 10 a.m with a licensed massage therapist … can you make it, right here in (blocked for privacy) next door to granite store?
Him: Great haircut as well
Me: What???? Really?
Him: Is that okay … I have to let ‘Fred’ (name changed for privacy) know if you can’t make it. ‘Fred’ will serve you …. hehe. I figured get it done early so you can get on with your day.
Me: Well yeah!
(Side note: Get on with my day??? I’m getting a massage, there will be no more day.)
Him: Awesome! I didn’t get you a haircut, just a massage, what I meant is that they offer great style options.
(Another side note. I laugh/bleated at that clarification. He was there getting a hair cut. The fact that he didn’t know there are endless haircut options endeared me to him.)
Him: I’ll bet you’re the most stunningly beautiful lady Fred gets his hands on in many years …
That was Thursday.
He left for Chicago early this morning and, the time had come today.
I upped the 45 minutes to Fred’s usual hour and a half explaining I’d pay the difference, because, my GAWD, I need a massage!!!!!
My husband left concerned and insecure – “If there’s something he does that you like, may you teach me it?”
Yes, yes I would.
I’ll now go on to explain why that will never be necessary.
I arrived 10 minutes early. I always arrive early. Walked into a salon, put my mask on, and was greeted by a very small dog.
Explained to ‘lady in salon’ that I was there for my massage.
‘Masseuse’ walked in past our arranged time.
Still petting dog.
‘Fred’ gestures me over to his desk.
Now, I have to point out, my appointment was for 10:00 a.m.
It’s past that.
I join him, masked, at his desk as he proceeds to pull out a … um … schematic of the human body and doctor-like questions.
Okay – he’s very thorough.
15 minutes later, and many intrusive questions later – I’m led to a little room with a red light.
I knew it would be an hour and a half, and have the bladder of a hamster, so, asked, “Where may I use a restroom?”
As luck would have it (dripping with sarcasm here) it was right next to the red light district, oh, I mean, massage room.
I get back, “Okay, undress, keep what you’re comfortable having on and yell really loud when you’re ready.”
Retaining undies and under blankets, I yell out, “READY!”
Looking back – I wasn’t.
SO! I’m undressed, except for undies. Monk walks in. Lovely Indian music playing, candle lit.
That’s basically where it ended.
I had body parts removed from the sheets whilst he breathed heavily and tenderly touched my body.
(It doesn’t go unnoticed by me that that sounds like an amazing beginning to a murder mystery novel lol.)
But no, too tender.
As he ‘massaged’, I tried to float off – be in the moment.
He still breathed heavily, as if I was a Yoga session, yet, he was breathing FOR me. Literally touching my skin and exhaling every.single.time.
Also, I could hear the salon. “You can’t put two properties on your land!” (Me, with over 15 years in the industry) is literally ready to hop off his table and cover myself in a sheet and explain the details and explain ‘Real Estate 101’.
Things got ‘Okay’ for a little while. Still dragging little parts of me out from under the covers and ‘touching’ them; not really ‘massaging’ them.
He’s still exhaling (loudly) … I’m trying to block everything out (including him) and enjoy this HUGE treat.
Then, THEN, came the stretching – Um – I signed up for a massage!
Literally, each leg was taken out of the sequestered blanket and pushed over my head, straightened. Then once more, just to prove that my extension had been improved.
I’m over an hour into (not literally ‘into’ but, time wise) this and regretting being excited.
He’s talked, and talked, and breathed, and breathed.
I know now he’s 74, just got his license 2 months ago after 800 hours. etc. etc. OH! I learned this during a face massage when he poked me in the eye. And, first of all, I don’t wear make-up, so, I DID enjoy the face massage. But, don’t assume that. A lot of people don’t expect that and DO wear make-up.
My hubby bought me 45 minutes for $40. Let’s remember this part.
He finds a wound on me under my ‘scapula’ that he awoke (and not in a good way, I told him about it during our Scientology paperwork beforehand) and it now hurts when it hasn’t for a long time!
He barely touched my feet.
Barely touched my neck.
Then, wanted to massage my stomach. After all, I’d mentioned a surgery I had when I was little – so, he felt for my organs.
I jokingly said, “Yes, please make sure my pancreas is okay”.
He then pulls out this AMAZING gadget! It massaged! Hit points he didn’t for the entire time!
Wanted to ask him where that had been the entire freaking time. lol. For the first time, he was concerned about hygiene, there was a towel between me and the machine.
THEEEEEEEEEEE ENNNNNNNNDING – was huge.
He literally got down by my head, ‘swooped’ my hair off the table and said loudly, “LEAVE HER!”
I glanced at my clothes, at my body – at … reality.
Sat up, shrugged my t-shirt on, no movement from the door, so – got completely dressed.
A 45 minute session was $40. Yet, an hour and one half was $90? Don’t you reduce your price for bulk? I dropped, kindly, 20% and left feeling like a freaking ass with a sore ‘scapula’ and $70 lighter.
I love the thought. He couldn’t have known. AT ALL! He got a great hair cut, and I got a great story!
Missed you guys!
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Listen to how my rhythm goes …
Woke up at 8 and while brushing my teeth ‘Oye como va’ popped into my head. Santana was brushing his teeth with me.
Out of nowhere – songs pop into my head. I hear a song and remember a time, a place, a movie. Mostly movies. I can’t hear ‘Running on empty’ without thinking of Forrest Gump or ‘American Girl’ without thinking of Silence of the Lambs.
If all went as planned – today I would be waking up a wife. Yesterday was to be my wedding day. Instead, I woke knowing I have 4 days left living with the man who was to be my groom.
Life is like that.
That old joke:
My fingers hurt – I’ve successfully bitten off every single nail.
My leg hurts – I pulled a hamstring over a week ago and still so tender. Gawd only knows how, I think we know by now I do NOT do exertion.
My heart hurts …
But life goes on. Limping into action this morning I kept repeating ‘Oye como va’ in my head until I reached the laundromat.
Glaucoma man was here. I think I startled him with a hug. In fact I know I did because his reaction? “Oh!?” Poor guy. Sorry glaucoma man, but I hadn’t seen you and a familiar, albeit, a tad annoying face was welcome today. OK, his face isn’t annoying, but his constant chatter while I try to type is. Laundry lady’s patience wears thin with him too. I try to give him all my attention though.
Just learned so much more about laundry lady by the way … about the grandchildren she never sees, about the ex-husband who drew up divorce papers for one dollar in prison. About her son.
For an introvert, I sure chat a lot with the random people in my life.
That’s how my rhythm goes.
Our Supreme Court declared legalization of nationwide same-sex marriage.
Which means, while States still can decide if they get married in their state, if you are married, you are married in THEIR state.
No more ‘same sex’ – only ‘MARRIED’
I love that my son get’s this.
I’m not sure I totally get it – I’m reeling! I THINK it means, no more ‘gay marriage’ and only ‘marriage’.
I love that my grandchildren will wonder why this was never a ‘thing’.
I love that we changed our profile pics to this:
I also love that it comes on the heels of such intended hate – that resulted in such an unintentional positive change for our RACIST country.
But this says it all.
I am proud today to be ‘American’ (I immigrated here) – although, 5-4 is too pretty damn close. But it is enough.
Enough is all you need.
Today, I’m just proud that someone gets to love someone and have it count.
They get to show up at a hospital and not be turned away because ‘they’re not family’.
They get to share insurance, deeds, LIFE legitimately with their LIFE partner.
And be acknowledged.
32 is my favorite number. (My Nannies old address)
Being ‘next’ is my favorite place to be. (Anticipation)
31 is the day I’m getting married – with my love waiting for me in his moms gazebo.
30 was the table I sat at last night – without him.
I was having a very ‘I miss my love’ day yesterday. I mean, I do everyday, but it was extra palpable yesterday. Visceral.
Had a Chamber of Commerce event last night. A couple came over to our company’s table, newly engaged … there were congratulations and smiles – she flashed her ginormous engagement ring and I remember thinking, ‘HOW is she going to do laundry without snagging something on that??’ lol. I’m not into the ‘bling’. It was pretty, but – I prefer sentimental and subtle.
But, I have to admit, I felt – (while happy for them) so … left out of that celebration. Don’t get me wrong. When Jim posted our engagement on Facebook, so many important people offered their love, their pleased shock and their joy for Jim.
A few offered their congratulations to both of us. That was sweet, and meant so much. I was just so happy people were happy for HIM!
I awoke this morning, after my unedited admission of missing my love, to amazing words from him.
He gave me joy, patience and once again, confirmations for the reasons I love him.
And his words that accompanied it:
“Found it, after weeks! 1990 and still current.”
That was not my undoing – the ensuing comments were.
“It’s been a long crazy 25 year voyage babe! Bless you for finding me, and never giving up after two plus decades.”
“Jim. This brings tears to my eyes. Great sketch of your bride to be.” (From a family friend, who will be our wedding photographer.)
Then my son chimes in:
Jim: No, You’re amazing!
Nic: No, my baby goblin (that’s a D & D reference) and you are amazing!
Jim: Pickles! Now!!!
I was laughing and had tears in my eyes at the same time. Those dorks are my favorite people.
And I get to marry the man who drew the picture I didn’t know was me.
Click on that, then come back.
Here’s the deal.
I have loved. As much as I was capable of loving.
I did not know, however, that I was capable of loving someone THIS much.
I’m 45. I’ll be 46 in May and I found my true love – who was 25 years away.
(Yes, dammit, I’m aware I’ve unintentionally rhymed a whole lot lol)
When Jim and I had our week – it was nothing like anything I’ve experienced.
It was comfort – serenity. I didn’t bite my nails – I didn’t feel like I had to constantly be DOING or BEING. I just … was.
And I was a better me.
A happier me.
And my son adored him and that made it the most special time.
Moms, if your kids don’t dig your guy … run! Run SO fast!
But he’s not a kid anymore. It’s March (the longest month that will EVER be for me lol – Jim arrives in April)
Nic will turn 20 this month.
My baby is growing.
I’ve grown too.
I was so jaded – I forgot the feelings of true love.
I’ve mended my bridges with my sons love – pretty sure she’s the mother of my future grandchildren, and, as I told her – ‘expect them to be total nerds. I will feed them cookies and Star Wars’.
Because I get it now.
It took my son falling in ‘true’ love for me to learn how.
And it took my first love, to come back and show me who.
And for that, I’m so grateful.
I love you Jim. And I’m so proud to be your bride.