Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Cole's Referral

As you may recall from an earlier post, Cole is my best friend, a guy in fact that I'm in love with. Cole and I have never had the best timing. When he's been single, I've been dating. When I've been single, he was in the army. We met when I was dating Hank. And Hank and Cole were roommates. Hank was a bit of a dud as a boyfriend, choosing to go to bed at 10:30 ritually, even on a Saturday night and I'd stay up to watch movies with Cole. Eventually we skipped the movies and decided to talk. I couldn't figure out how a guy like Cole was single.

He is handsome, intelligent, caring, and is amazing with my daughter. Having a child so young, most guys don't have any idea how to interact with her. Not Cole. He treats her better than I could ever hope for with her real dad.

Cole now works for his father, who owns a construction company. Business was lean right before Cole left for Iraq, but now the company is back on track, which was perfect timing for when Cole got back.  Somehow he always knew he wanted to take over his father's business, and him and his father, Ted, have always managed to get along well. I envy that. Both the getting along and knowning what you want to do. I've never known. I still don't. Although I'm an erotic masseuse, I sense I can't keep doing this forever, at least not when I'm old, or even 45, I imagine. Some days with my post-baby body I feel like I'm pushing it, but it's my clients that seem to have more confidence in my body than me. But in any case, the whole point of this entry is that I have this jam I find myself in occasionally: getting a "massage" referral. I'm not a legit certified massage therapist, even though I tell everyone I am. So it completely freaks me out when I have to fake a massage. As odd as it may sound, I'm more at ease, getting naked and giving a guy a hand job. I've been doing it for years, with no complaints.

So the other day, Cole asked me how business was.


"Would you like to be busier?" he asked.

"Of course," I said, which was the truth. My business is great, but I'd love to add a few more clients. At $140 per hour, who wouldn't?

Cole told me that his Aunt's friend was looking for a massage therapist. Shit. Not only do I have to fake a real massage, but it's a woman, which seems very foreign to me.

At the heart of the matter, I feel badly. I respect the field of massage therapy and here this person, this Aunt, will expecting someone who has gone through upteen hours of training. It's times like this that I feel most rotten.

I've actually thought about getting a massage license, but when I looked into the requirements and what the massage schools charge for a one-year program (roughly $15,000), it just wasn't worth it. I told Cole I got my license while he was overseas and my mother doesn't take enough interest in my life to notice that I seemed to have jumped into massage therapy overnight.

So I have no choice but to take on Cole's Aunt's friend. I guess I'll go to the library and get a few books out on massage.