Not with my Mommy, you don't! What?!? No! Not with me either!

Being a Massage Therapist can be an exciting career.  It can be lucrative when the economy is on the upswing but at times it can also be a misunderstood profession.

I can't begin to tell you how many times I've seen that raised eyebrow at the mention of my title Massage Therapist.  Of course I've never seen a woman react with the raised eyebrow and why is that?  A woman understands and appreciates the benefits of therapeutic massage while many, many, many men have ill misconceptions of what it is we're trained to do. 

I'm currently working a temp job as a receptionist.  Many people, the majority being men, approach my office to ask for supplies or mail.  Frequently they come by for nothing more than a chat and it was during one of those chats that the subject of massage came up. 

Before I go any further let me say that any time I speak to a man who seems just slightly flirtacious I make it a habit to make sure he see's my wedding ring (I never leave home without it) and then fit my husband into the conversation; something I've learned to do over the years due to mens inability to understand that my friendliness is directed toward everyone; male and female.

As I sat chatting with this individual about the lack of work in the massage field, another employee walks up and overhears our conversation....Bingo! Bango! Wango! Antenae up, sonar bouncing off the walls!  This individual who so "respectfully" refers to me as Doña Mari, frequents my desk with little business and much bla, bla, bla.

Please don't think me conceited, but as a woman I know when a man is trying to "play me".  There is something in his voice that rings of bad intent and beyond that I'm incredibly perceptive and intuitive.  It's something that was passed on to me by my father who at times, like I, chose to close his eyes to some very obvious signs so as not to insult anyone.

Just a little example of that:  Dad had a friend, a political buddy, who I took an imediate disliking toward.  I expressed this to my father many times but because he liked this guy he brushed me off each time.  At first I wasn't sure what it was that bothered me about him until one day while we all sat in the kitchen talking.  I realized that besides his outright arrogance, he was subtly hitting on my mom.  There, directly in front of my dad, he was flirting with mom.  Straight out flirting.  Of course mom, being the humble woman she was would not acknowledge that any man outside of my father would even think to do such a thing.

To make a long story short, one evening dad finds himself more tired than usual and decides to hit the sack early.  While he's in the bedroom snoring to the tune of "Whistle While You Work", a knock comes on the door.  I'm in my jammies, watching tv with mom so I suggest she open the door.  I move around the corner so as not to been seen when I hear the Big Bad Wolf asking if Dan is around.  My first reaction is Wait! this character doesn't belong in this story but Snow White apparently has forgotten that every fairy tale has a villan.  So our villan asks (oblivious to the hero lurking in the shadows), "well, if Dan is sleeping why don't you let me in so we can chat?".  Sweet mommy doesn't get it. She trys to say no but the villan grows impatient and says "look he doesn't have to know".  OH NO HE DI-INT!  This is where I, without cape or magic wand, decide to pluck this fool outta da story.

I calmly walk around the corner, jammies and all, step in front of mom and say "I think it's late, you heard my dad is asleep.  If I ever get the feeling your making a pass at my mom again I'll go straight to my dad.  Bye, bye!"  The jerk left and no, I didn't wait for the next time.  I reported the whole incident to my dad the next morning.  I'm not sure exactly what happened after that point, only that the wicked Queen, AKA the ugly 'ol witch never did show up with that red apple.  End of story.

You know how it is when you know what you know.  So in my story Mr. Suave shows up at my office to talk the day after he hears I'm a MT.  Suddenly, he has shoulder and hip pain.  He say's I hear your a MT.  I say yes, already knowing where he's headed.  "Ahhhh", he says, "because I need someone to work on me, I just cant' take the pain anymore".  Before I can get a word out he says "but! It can't be on the weekend because I'm very busy on the weekends".  I was dying to ask "Is that with the wife, by any chance?".

My story is taking far too long so before I take you right into tomorrows lunch time, I'll just say that I told him I'd check with my husband to see what day he'd be home and that I wouldn't think of working on a man without my husband being around (partly true).  The bafoon had the nerve to ask if I would consider doing it somewhere else.

I wish I could be accused of making this up in my head but after his attempt to sing and recite poetry to me, I'd have to say YOUR WRONG!  I may not be young and I may not be the size 9 I was when I met my husband but even fat, old ladies get hit on by desperate men trying to meet their quota.  Do they actually think this one more score will get them that much closer to paradise?

Men, I apologize if I sound like it's pick on men day.  That's not my intention.  But as they say one bad apple spoils the bunch, my pretty.