Tuesday, October 6, 2009

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.


Debbie said...

I simply refuse to let you talk like that about yourself! You're beautiful and smart and have an aura that draws people to you cause you're niiiiiiiice! And any man would be lucky for you to WORK ON HIM!


Marie said...

Why thank you Debbie, but I think you thought I was talking about myself when I said "fat, old ladies get hit on by desperate men". I just meant that fat old ladies get hit on by men. You don't have to be a beauty queen to get hit on. Meaning, it's even less effective because I know you don't have to be young and beautiful. Get me?

Rattus Scribus said...

Maybe, it's like Rose Castorini (from the movie Moon Struck) tells Johnny Camareri:
Rose: "Why do men chase women?..."
Johnny: "I don't know. Maybe it's because they fear death."
Rose: "That's it. Thank you for answering my question.
Rose (later to her tail-chasing husband): Cosmo, I want you to know that you're going to die like everyone else."
Cosmo: "Thanks Rose."


Marie said...

Ruben, Thanks for the insight...or maybe I should be thanking Rose. Hmmmm. One little question left, if men fear death and therefore chase women, do women not fear death? Interesting..

Castles Crowns and Cottages said...

Chère cousine,
Again, another well-written piece. Thank you for your visit to my ballet post; I thought of you as I wrote it as well. Yep, it is in our blood to dance and I am grateful that I did it...even if I didn't have the body for ballet, it was and still continues to be my favorite form of dance. Who knows, maybe like in the movie, "Babette's Feast", where one of the sisters tells Babette, "In heaven, you will delight the angels; in heaven, you will be the great artist that God meant for you to be!" Who knows, you might be seeing me do the grand jétés I always dreamed of doing on stage!! Bisous, Anita

Rattus Scribus said...

Oh no you di-nt! Sounds like you were ready to open up a can of whup-ass on this foo.


Anita inspired me to start another blog which I’m calling Rattus Tales


I’ve set it up with an intro and hopefully you'll get a kick out of it.

God bless,