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It sounds so romantic, doesn’t it? A couple’s massage must be just the absolute dreamiest thing for a couple to do when on vacation. You’ll both be blissfully relaxed, sharing a wonderful experience in an idyllic beach resort where every care is kneaded away by the expert hands of a charming massage therapist. You’ll be gazing into your lover’s eyes as you create yet another moment that confirms your undying love for each other.
Well, reality check: a couple’s massage isn’t for everyone. I tried it, and I didn’t like it. Neither did my beloved.
During a recent Mexico vacation and press trip, my husband Angel were treated to an indulgent couple’s massage at an amazing Mexico beach resort. Everything was perfect: The hotel spa was beautiful, the facilities divine, the service impeccable and the massage therapists more handsome and skilled than you could imagine. The treatment room was spacious and elegantly appointed, with clean white decor, fragrant flowers and floor-to-ceiling windows on one side that provided an inspiring view of a peaceful reflecting pool.
We chose our treatments from an extensive spa menu and, as we entered the treatment room wearing giant comfy bathrobes provided by the attendants, each therapist quizzed us about our own personal preferences about the massage treatment. The preparation and presentation was simply perfect. Their massage services were also excellent.
So why didn’t we like it?
Well, here’s what happened. I lay face down on my massage table, ready to experience my bliss. Angel was in the same position on the table next to me. I closed my eyes as my therapist began his work, and I entered the half-asleep state that a good massage sometimes produces in me. Then it started.
I was surprised that Angel was talking and reacting verbally during the massage. For whatever reason, I tend to remain quite silent during treatments. Even when the therapist is killing me with heavy-duty pressure, I try to just relax and keep my mouth shut. Maybe that’s just me, because apparently that’s not Angel. He made it known when something hurt, and when something hit the spot.
I spent the rest of the 60-minute massage session being acutely aware of everything that was happening at the next table. Was Angel enjoying the treatment? I had only to listen. Was his therapist telling him to turn over? Why wasn’t my therapist telling me to turn over yet? Are we behind schedule? Am I doing something wrong? What happens if one therapist finishes before the other — do they kick one person out?
Instead of being blissfully oblivious to the real world, I was instead lying there thinking of the logistics of couple’s massages, and also wondering why the man I married was so noisy.
Later on, lying silently together on that beautiful Mexico beach, I finally felt peaceful.
I guess getting a massage together allows a couple to get to know a different side of their partner. But lying next to my hubby, and getting distracted when I’d rather be relaxed, isn’t my idea of romance. I love you, Angel, but next time we are getting separate massage sessions!