Things Aren't Always What They Seem ~ Or ~ A New Man in My Life

Version I ~ For the Romantic

It wasn't planned. There was no New Year's resolution made. And I never saw it coming. I've been lightning struck! Of course, enchantment doesn't typically announce itself, so perhaps I shouldn't beat myself up for failing to expect it. Suffice it to say, favored reader, it has happened and his name is Dennis. New year, new man.

He's different in many ways from other men who have fascinated me. For one thing, he is young. I've never been drawn to younger men. But he is that. Significantly younger. About 18 years younger. And good looking! He presents quite nicely in his uniform and I'm made to feel confident seeing his belt with the tools of his trade tucked into it.

What I like about him: He didn't ask me. It wasn't discussed. But when I arrived at his door, my drink was waiting. No questions asked. "Here, Leslie. This is for you." "I thank you, Dennis." I like that he took my coat off of my shoulders and put it on a hanger, not on a heap of whatever. He is thrifty with words, using only enough of them to make comfortable conversation. His voice is soft and warm in the darkened room.

I like his hands. He is a good-sized man with large hands. When he touches my skin, I feel warmth and electricity and energy and peace. I want to feel those hands on my skin again and the date has been set. Soon we shall spend time together again. Reader, this is heady stuff!

Version II ~ For the Pragmatic

I badly needed to have some body work done, for I am an aching massage addict of decades. Stephanie disappeared from Massage Envy employment and I've had a pretty miserable time trying to hit-and-miss with the several massage therapists she'd recommended. I called yet again to make an appointment and found that none of the women I wanted were available. I started to do the slow burn. I pay the membership, I want the work and I'm finding it damned inconvenient to never land on a day and time with anyone I want who is licensed to touch.

The perky little receptionist sensed my displeasure and said, "What about Dennis?" Dennis? Uh-uh. Never have had a male massage therapist work on me. I have trouble with that. It's difficult for me to even contemplate. Lacey said, "He's our best deep tissue therapist - everyone agrees on that - and that's what you said you need. He's available at the time you requested and he could give you an hour and a half." There was a pregnant silence and then someone's voice said, "OK, Dennis it is."

I stewed at my desk all day wondering how I'd handle certain parts of discussion and just precisely how much disrobing I'd want to do. You see, not only am I old, I have certain bodily things I want to explain before I offer myself up in any state of undress. Yes, I understand that most people, or at least women, have some body image issues. Many of us think our rear ends are too big or our chests are too small. But I have some more esoteric things going on and I feel a need to speak of them. Double burden: the speaking of them is also difficult.

I drove through the downpour, spontaneously landing on necessary little errands to accomplish. No, that's bullshit. I was diddling time away so I'd certainly be late. Or maybe I just wouldn't go. Of course, there'd be a cancellation fee . . . . my pecuniary sensibilities won out, I drove on and walked into Massage Envy just as he was walking into the lobby to collect me.


My romantic rendition above is all too true. He did take my coat and he did hand me my drink (of water). He does look good in the ME polo shirt and I was pleased to see his trigger bottle of massage gel in his tool belt. He was easy for me to talk with, and he didn't talk me to death like some of the women therapists. I landed in a place that was comfortable for him and comfortable for me, somewhere between completely dressed and completely undressed. And then Dennis proceeded to give me the massage that made me understand I've never actually been massaged before.

I asked him about half way through if being a man of a certain size gave him an advantage for deep tissue massage. It seemed to me that with larger hands and more strength than most women, he might have a leg up on it. He said that might be part of it. He asked me if I'd like my feet to be massaged. I laughed and said I would like that, but having kept my tights on would interfere. He said he could do it through the tights. "OK, Dennis, just don't use any massage gel. I have to go home in these tights."

My friend had been having a massage in another room while Dennis worked on me. I waited in the lobby and we chatted a bit. "Would you like to stop by my place and pick up those things I forgot to bring you?" Uh-uh. "No. I've just had a life moving experience. I'm going home to sleep the deep sleep of the innocent."

In my ears right now:



Something that charmed me: Dennis charmed me. "How did I do for you?" I told him, sincerely, he'd delivered the best massage I've ever enjoyed. "Do you think you'll lose the tights next time?" I think I will!