He was a short, thick built, out of shape but very friendly, young man. It was end of shift, and I wasn’t looking for business, just killing time before the shift would be over. So I thought I’ll listen to the young man for a minute or two. And he was prepared to talk. He told me all about what he does for living. He claimed to work as a physical therapist in an office in Beverly Hills. He told me how he uses the warmth of his hands to eliminate muscle tension. He told some other pretty fantastic things. What he didn’t know was that I do PT and have worked as a massage therapist. This customer type is very common.  He comes in because he gets a kick out of massaging the dancers. He wants to touch for free in a non-sexual way, but to him it’s the biggest turn on. Unfortunately, most of these guys do not know how to give a decent massage. But when my young friend got desperate after failing to convince me that my stilettos are contributing to back pain (which everybody knows they do and wearing high heels isn’t exactly therapeutic for your posture), and I should let him massage my back, he gave it one more try, “You know, I am a really good massager.” I almost burst out in laughter. Mr. Massager, who claims to be this incredible physical therapist at a famous Beverly Hills doctors office doesn’t even know that he would call himself a masseuse instead of naming himself after an electric massager you can purchase on Amazon.

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