“I’m so sick of being 24!” says my massage therapist. He’s digging his hands into my fleshy muscles and releasing my real world tension. As he rubs my backside, I think about how I’m: unemployed, have super crappy heath insurance, just paid a plumbing bill that started out at $350, and then, “Lady, it’s lookin’ more like a thousand bucks, want us to finish?”
et fucking cetera!
My massage guy goes on. “I am so tired of going out and being all dressed up, and all of the sudden some stupid drunk girl walks up to me and steals my hat. Like, that’s super cute or something? And then her boyfriend comes over and is all, “That’s my girlfriend, so lay off.”
“And I’m like, hello??? I’m GAY. I dont’ like your stupid girl friend, I just want my hat back.”
As he angrily kneads my back, I choke back tears, and happy/mush feelings. My mascara is running all over my face. In the background this weird music is floating in the air. I imagine I would be forced to listen to this if I was in a cult. It’s this Zen shit, and I’d rather listen to My Gay Puerto Rican Massage Therapist, Who Wears Argyle and Polos … who tells me he’s gay every five minutes.
He reminds me that he is gay with every story he tells. I find them to be refreshing after a day of paying plumbing bills.
“I’m just ready to be older and out with more sophisticated people. Sometimes, I find a deal on Groupon for fine dining. I find a deal for a great meal at an upscale place and I go alone. I lie, and tell my boyfriend that I’m working and I just bring a book to the bar and pig out. I can never take those leftovers home and I feel bad,” My Gay Puerto Rican Massage Therapist, Who Wears Argyle and Polos says to me.
I finally chirp in, “Honey, no one wants sloppy seconds.”
So far, I’ve been too amused to cut him off. Now, I know why so many people are quiet when they get old. It’s not because they are nodding off. On the contrary, they are thinking, ” Oh you silly, just you wait until your hip hurts and that’s all you can talk about. Now let’s hear another hat story!”
He’s rambling about Mad Men and how cute they are. And as I listen to him I think, “You know, I like me right now. Plumbing bills, crappy insurance and all. I would not like to be 24 again.”
I’m plenty cool being a 7-year old collecting an unemployment check.