I just paid for a full body massage.
I might have saved myself that money if I got caressed at home. Instead, I have to pay to have someone touch me.
A dollar a minute. $60 for 60 minutes plus tip at a cheap dark Asian joint in a strip mall.
“How long?” the lady asks at the front desk.
“As long as possible,” I think to myself. “An hour is good. Do you have time?” I ask hopeful, instead.
“Yes, we take care of you,” she says. “Follow me.”
I exhale. Relief is in sight.
I use my husband’s money to pay for them. The irony is that he won’t touch me on the couch, in bed, at a restaurant, in a box, with a fox, or anywhere. No hand holding, no shoulder squeezes, no brush of the hair, no scratches, NOTHING.
If I ask, I get criticized.
“Babe, would you scratch my back for me?” as I point to the area around my shoulder blade. It’s just out of reach from my fingers.
“What do you think I am?” he’d reply. “Scratch yourself.”
Damn him.
I crave touch.
So do many of us in dead bedrooms.
I asked online who felt the same on the Reddit sub r/deadbedrooms.
Who else pays to get touched?
“I get massages regularly. The touch is very fulfilling and it really helps my mental health. It provides for muscle tension release. I definitely recommend that you make it a regular part of your self-care routine. You might want to up to a 90 or 120 minute session. Glad it helps.”
Um, I’d be on that table ALL DAY if I could. That’s how much I love massages.
“So many people that don’t even have a dead bedroom are touch starved….I’ve had many clients cry because they haven’t had a hug in a long time, or couldn’t remember the last time they had relaxed for a complete hour. Massage therapy is a beautiful thing that is SO necessary in our society in my opinion. I’m glad that you found a massage therapist that works well with you!”
Human contact is no joke. We all need it.
“Physical touch was one of my primary concerns when I left my husband two years ago. I also pay for massages when I need one. It’s a real thing. People need it. Glad you got it.”
Physical touch is one of my love languages.
When our spouse’s do the “DON’T TOUCH ME!” song and dance, we suffer.
So, what do I do?
I pay for massages. I need the comfort and intimacy of touch, even without sex. I’d prefer sexual fondling, but sometimes, even that isn’t enough. If I don’t have a lover who can’t satisfy my craving for skin on skin contact, I pay for that caress.
Sometimes I feel like a junkie, trying to curb an endless need.
“I need to feel you,” I say to a lover.
“Naked time, please!”
“Get under a blanket, now.”
Cuddling is highly underrated.
We both love being naked and tangled together. Our fingers relentlessly trace each other’s bodies over and over again.
Sexual healing.
It’s all ways to feed my need for physical intimacy while in a touch deprived marriage. Then I think, “How much longer can I go on like this?”
Cheating isn’t sustainable.
I step out to get what I so desperately crave. And I crave what I desperately need. In the interim, full-body massages will have to do.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Benjamin Wedemeyer on Unsplash
