A few days later, Dave appeared at my door with a table, clean sheets, delicious smelling massage oil and a big smile on his face. I could tell he was nervous as he set up the table in my living room, doing
his best to make me feel that I was in good hands, with a professional, clinical attitude.
“Come and lie down face-up,” he said. “Here, I'll cover you up nice and warm with this blanket.” I hopped on the table and he laid his hands on me – large, healing hands, energy pouring through them. I
relaxed immediately.
Oh I'm in heaven!
The large, confident hands glided effortlessly over my body, kneading out knotty kinks and relaxing tight muscles, still sore from sitting on planes. We didn't talk much. Other than checking on the pressure for me, he encouraged me to let go and relax deeply.
It's rare I can drop into a deep, open space whilst being massaged by someone new. Normally I need a little time to learn to trust my therapist, I need to feel safe in order to open my energy fully. But with Dave, I felt totally protected and safe and quickly fell into a state of bliss. That surprised me.
Who is this guy??
When he finished, he sat and held my feet, dropping into that float zone with me, merging energy for a moment.
I sat up slowly, thanking him as he started to pack up his gear. “Let me make you a cup of tea,” I offered, wanting to give something back to this lovely man.
“I'll take it the English way. Black tea with milk,” said Dave, who it turns out, had lived a few years in England and can understand my odd transatlantic expressions and slang.
We sat on my couch sipping tea and chatted warmly. That night I was having a gathering for Kat with some of the people from jnana group who knew her when she was a member. My friend Kathy was coming early to spend some time with me. Dave and I were still engrossed in conversation when she knocked on the door.
“Come in, sweetie, and I'll make you tea. Here come sit on the couch with Dave. He'll give you a hug if you need one.”
I brazenly volunteered his loving arms.
While Kathy poured out her heart and sorrow over Kat's passing, she sat between Dave and I, both our arms around her. It felt so right to be here comforting one of my best friends with a man I hardly
knew.... I was cognizant of the strong, masculine space Dave held; quiet, loving, present. I liked that. It's a rare gift to be able to comfort someone with pure presence alone, but his energy was doing exactly that on that sad day when we were mourning the loss of our friend.
Still, much as I liked and appreciated this lovely man, I had been with a large man before and had sworn to only date fit, healthy men. Plus he had that hairy face.
No. I just couldn’t do it - there is NO way I am kissing a guy with a mustache.
DAVE WRITES:
I've studied bodywork and energy-work all over the world as a way to improve my health and as a way to help others. When my father passed away in 2003, I took it much more seriously. I was the standout student in every class I took and as a way to heal and as a form of exercise I made every opportunity I could to give work -chair massage at sporting events, working a few hours a week at several day spas, eventually teaching and opening a healing studio. Along the way I became a Reiki Master and helped develop an integrated hot/cold stone treatment combined with Reiki technique and eventually did massage for the USA Olympic Athletes. Safe to say that I'm confident in this arena, which is why I'm giving my bodywork resume.
I found myself offering massage to Lady Julia in the hope that I could get to know her better via my touch senses and that the same would transfer for a shot at a happy ending. (Get your mind out of the gutter - not "that" kind of happy ending wherein Mama Kim will love you long time.) Julia, being a seasoned healing arts person gladly accepted and a 2:30 in the afternoon time was chosen. She said she had a table and linens and all that, but I had mine handy, just the same. After a quick chat, she produced the world's oldest, pink colored massage table. Well used but would do the job. I had my lotion of choice ready and we talked about pressure and injuries past and all that clinical stuff. On the table she went.
Up to this point I was relatively composed. After thousands of massages I should be.
And then I touched her. I've been searching for the words to describe this initial feeling and the best that seems to come has something to do with being plugged into one of those huge power turbines they have at the base of Hoover Dam. I've never been connected to one of them, but I now know what it might feel like it. The smallish Brit nearly knocked me off my feet with her strong energy flow and I began to sweat and shake as if I had had 12 shots of espresso. I don't remember much, but somehow I managed to make my way through some flowing work and a bit of deeper work, using about 30 percent of my pressure potential. Of course she commented on liking pressure, but I was not about to mess up by going too far.
We had our first small connection as she curled into a ball on the table after the massage and we talked a moment. It was the first time she had let her guard down, as if one of those fuzzy-hatted Buckingham Palace guards finally cracked a smile. I felt encouraged. Then later foolish, as I learned from her that she had studied massage herself before moving on to higher pursuits. For sure, I could have ran some deeper work and for sure she must have known I was a nervous wreck. We shared a cup of tea and some small talk with her taking a position as far away as possible from me as we sat on the couch with our tea.
Massage adventure over, I sent a note of thanks with a very open-ended invitation to get together. Her reply caught me off-guard…
The next day, determined to be clear with Dave, I wrote him a note that said as much.
“Dave – I really love our friendship and look forward to getting to know you better. But I don't sense a romantic attraction with you.”
Dave was not to be deterred. He admitted in an email he had a huge crush on me. I had guessed that and was not quite sure where to go with it but as it’s so rare I meet anyone as fascinating as Dave, I wanted to keep a door open for a friendship at least.
“Lets go see a movie together,” he suggested. We'd talked about seeing “J. Edgar” and arranged another date.
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