The first time someone said to me: “Hey, have you tried one of those Chinese foot massage places,” my first response was “of course not because I don’t hire prostitutes.”

For some reason, when you put a culture name in front of a verb, it takes on a whole new meaning.

But Chinese Foot Massage is about a billion times better than any prostitute could ever be. Unless that prosti threw in a CFM during whatever else s/he’s doing.

Here’s how it works: You sit in a room full of a dozen or so very large, very comfy recliners. Your pants legs are rolled up and your feet are dropped into a bucket of scalding hot water. You kind of want to scream, but you don’t want to look like a pussy about it. I mean, if that 80-lb Mandarin octogenarian next to you can handle it, so can you.

And you can.

After a few seconds, the herbs or magic or chlorine or whatever is in that water takes over and it just feels goooood.

While your toes are soaking, the nice masseuse starts the rub down. They rub your head, your face, your neck, your arms and your shoulders before pulling your feet out and starting up. They spend a lot of time down there and they must be doing something right because you start feeling like you really need to fart, but you don’t want to be a jerk about it.

Then you realize if that 80-lb Mandarin octogenarian next to you can let one slip, then you can too. So you wait for them to leave to get a towel and you do.

They come back, dry off your legs, turn you over and rub you down top to bottom again. And if you’re me, when they get to your bottom, there’s a tittering of Sino-Tibetan language and then some laughter. And that’s okay because it just feels so dang amazing.

The whole thing lasts just over and hour and costs $15.

Yes. $15. Let’s hear it for folks having been indoctrinated in factories.

I took my Lovely to my favorite local CFM place this weekend and noticed for the first time that among the recliners, there was also this curtained room.

“What happens in there?” I asked the host.

“Prostitutes,” I kinda wanted him to say for good measure. But he didn’t. Not even to humor me. Instead he said “oh, we focus more on your back and neck than the feet.”

I’d never gotten a massage behind a curtain and I had just finished a couple Irish Mules, so I thought this was a great idea. Lovely didn’t argue. So behind the curtain we went.

“Okay, take off your clothes,” the host said. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

Mind you, just on the other side of this thin sheet of linen were people. Strangers. Regular folk who were just there to get their feet rubbed and who had no idea that nude little me was going to be running around 2 feet from them.

But I had just had a couple of Irish Mules, so I thought that was fine.

We disrobed, in walked a dude and a girl and they went to work. And so did my brain. I know that you’re supposed to “relax” during a massage or at some point in your life. But that’s just not how I do. Instead, I do like this:

• Not sure how I feel about the heart-shaped face hole on this table. What if I had come here with a girlfriend?
• Oh, good, I get a girl masseur and he gets a guy one.
• Not that I’d be upset if he got a girl one. I’m not the jealous type.
• Am I the jealous type?
• Oh wow, she just climbed right on my back. That’s fine.
• I wonder if that guy is standing on Lovely’s back?
• Is it wrong that I don’t get jealous?
• How much am I going to tip?
• Why can’t I get the timer on my AC to work?
• Maybe my cats will be fine if I don’t leave the AC on.
• Why am I trying to kill my cats??
• I wonder if my cats and his dog will get along.
• I should really write something about the election.
• Probably just gonna blog about this massage instead.
• Is she still kneeling on my hamstrings?
• And oh, is she stretching my Achilles’s tendon with her toes??
• She has really dextrous toes.
• Is he stretching Lovely’s Achilles’s tendon with his toes?
• Does that make me jealous?
• No really, I should write about the election. It’s nuts out there. “Legitimate rape, wtf?!”
• Eh, a list piece’ll be fine.
• Should I have booked a hotel in London by now?
• I’m sure I’ll find something.
• If I don’t find something, will I have to stay at a hostel?
• If I stay at a hostel will I be robbed?
• Oddly enough, Hostel 2 had a decent plot and really beautiful set design.
• Why the eff did I watch Hostel 2??
• I think I know someone who watched The Human Centipede. I’m at least doing better than whoever that was.
• He and I are both nudey on these tables. Should I be feeling sexy right now?
• Because wanting to fart is not sexy.
• I think if I felt sexy right now, this would be come prostitutey.
• Kinda wish I couldn’t feel her breathing on my face. Really like having my face touched though.
• I love living by the Oreo code, but seriously, why are there never any ethnics here?
• …I mean apart from all the Chinese people who work here.
• Do other ethnic people just hate luxurious comfort?
• Awww, Is he snoring?
• Holy shit, I just thought snoring was cute. I’m in trouble!
• I wish there was a way to sleep and also make out at the same time.
• They could totally hack off my arms and legs right now and thanks to this warm towel on my face I’d have no idea it was coming.
• I wonder if that would make it hurt less or more.
• Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be thinking about getting hacked to bits during a massage.
• …Or speaking to yourself in the third person.
• No, c’mon, I can totally use this time to come up with some really cool, pithy piece about this ridiculous election.
• Or just come up with a coupla jokes about prostitutes and call it a day.
• Is it problematic that a couple of the songs I most like to belt were sung by prostitutes?
• Probably no less problematic that the role I most want to play is a man’s role.
• I wonder what else she does with her toes.

Spoiler alert: I was the only one of us who got climbed up on and toe’d.

I hope he’s jealous.

Is there CFM where you live? How do you not spend 100% of your time there if there is? If there’s not, how do you relax?

Let us know in the comments!

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