I'm a simple emigrant and I love massage

Recently, as it turned out, I tried Thai massage for the first time—even though I had been to massages a thousand times in different cities and countries. And then, a couple of years ago, friends gave me a certificate for a studio in Frankfurt. In my usual fashion, I only ended up going there after ages. The place is cool: great location, good service, everything clean and pleasant, they pour tea. To be honest, it’s a bit pricey. The girl invited me into the room: led me in and left. I stand there, thinking it’s clear I should undress, but how much? The certificate simply says “aromatherapy massage”—not a word about technique or the massage area. In general, I decided to undress completely, and let whatever happens happen. I guessed right. The masseuse returned, smeared me with oil and for about forty minutes stroked me, and then climbed on me with her legs. Just like I used to roam around my dad in childhood. I was so surprised I turned around to look, thinking maybe she was pressing with elbows and wrists. But no, there she sits, working! In the end she massaged my feet and put something on them. I lie there again thinking, I wonder if they have gift socks for everyone or if she pulled mine. And I stuff my socks into my sneakers in such situations that you’d have to call miners to get them out. It turned out, she did put me in my own socks after all. In short, I realized that Thai massage isn’t for me. I prefer it when they really knead, not just smear the oil. But if that’s your thing, I can recommend this place, especially as a gift. #curiosities