From Massage Parlor to Massage Therapy

Remember when "having a massage" made you think of dirty old men visiting massage parlors? (If not, you're too young.)

When I worked as an information specialist for the engineering firm doing the SE Beltway study (now Hwy 5 By-pass) for IDOT years ago in Des Moines, my office was in a building where in front there was a travel agency and in back a massage parlor.

My office was next to the massage parlor. It was not unusual to see scantily clad young women in the hallway. The back door of the building led to the massage parlor door. Men came and went all day long. One day I saw a man from my hometown of Corning going into the massage parlor. (He didn't see me.)

What a long way we have come from those days. Now when you see massage advertised it is for legitimate massage therapy. I had my first massage in the late '80's in West Des Moines. It was wonderful. The therapist (Judy?) had offered some special rates to help get established and build her clientele. The room was dim, new age music played in the background and a scented candle burned. Relaxation was practically guaranteed.

Unfortunately, affording regular massages was not part of my world at that time. Not until I moved back home in the mid '90's was that possible. One of the hair salons in Corning began offering massages. A young woman originally from Corning had trained and worked in Kansas City and decided to move back. Stephanie is a wonderful person. I don't think she would mind if I describe her as an Amazon. She is six feet tall, muscular and gorgeous. Her theory of massage was that if it didn't hurt a bit, it wasn't effective. She was my therapist until a pickup vs. gravel truck accident smashed her left arm. She tried to go back to MT after her arm healed, but was unable to.

The young woman who took her place at the salon was her antithesis - petite, quiet, (but also gorgeous), [and the daughter of one of my cousins]. At first the differences in massage style seemed too great. I did without for a while. Neeley left the salon and opened her own business 20 miles away in her hometown of Massena. Eventually I began making the journey north. I became a regular. We became friends as well as client/provider and relatives.

After moving to Creston, the commute for a massage got a bit further. I tried one therapist in town but she didn't work out. A new combo chiropractic/massage therapy clinic opened - a husband-wife team. The wife joined the book club I belong to. I decided to try a massage at their clinic expecting a masseuse. I think I masked my surprise well when it turned out I was going to have a massage with a masseur.

Gabe is wonderful. I no longer have to drive 70 miles round trip for a massage. My only problem now is telling Neeley. I can't just stop going to her with no explanation. I know she will understand. But I will miss her and keeping up with what is going on in her life. Perhaps there will be a way to have a masseuse and a masseur. I wish I were rich.

(P.S. I just realized I attended both Stephanie's & Neeley's wedding showers and weddings. That is how much a part of my life they became.)