the art of massage...or not

This morning, as I was driving to work, the conversation on the radio breezed through a supposed video circulating on the internet of the train wreck waiting to happen...John Daly. I feel sorry for that guy, because the writing is on the wall, but that's a post for another day. The topic was this video, where he's on a golf course at the first tee, waiting to hit his ball, and he's puffing away on a cigarette, getting a massage, and the male masseuse starts working his man breasts, and how gross a job would that be? (The answer they gave was...not as gross as shoveling elephant dung...which I suppose is true.)

Actually, I don't want to discuss how gross a job that might be, either....not that I'm filling out an application.

What it made me think of, is massages in general. I'm not a massage person. I've never had one...well, excluding purely consentual, amateur...you get the idea. I've never employed a massage therapist, licensed or otherwise, and I'm not in a big hurry to do that. My muscles haven't cried for that attention. My opinion may change if I ever do, and then think, "Wow! So that's what I've been missing!" For now though, the idea of some person I don't know workin' the muscles doesn't have a lot of appeal. The idea kind-of hit home this past summer and fall doing the bike ride thing. One training ride the MS Society put on had free massages when you finished the 50-something mile trip, and people were lining up. I walked right past. One of the perks if you raised over $1000 for the MS Society in the MS Bike Ride was a free massage when you finished. I passed on that one too. Out team tent in Daytona had a masseuse in it...again...free. Just not interested. I sat in the tent with my burger and beer...OK, beers..and watched others take advantage of the service. I was even asked if I wanted "next", but I declined. I'm not sure what the benefit is supposed to be, but I just don't feel the need. I don't know what I'm missing, but I'm just not missing it. I know many people think they are amazing. One of my neighbors is a massage therapist, and she never lacks for clients, some of whom are other neighbors who swear by her. When I finished the training ride where people were lining up for their seven minutes in heaven, I overheard one guy say, "The massage people. Oh thank God!" I should have asked him, "Why?"

I have this idea in my head, that the world is divided (in one of the many ways it can be) into massage people, and non-massage people, and I'm clearly in the non-massage camp. Maybe, this year when we get to Daytona, I'll do the massage thing. After all, it will be free. Maybe then I'll know what it is I now feel no need for, and can make a more informed choice.