In 1990, I became certified as a massage therapist. There were many things I learned along the way as I built up my private practice. One of them was that many people are starved for touch.
I used to think men wanted to be massaged differently than women. I assumed that because they had bigger muscles, they would want their massage firmer, deeper. and so I would “work harder” to get the kinks out of those muscles. But then eventually, being me, I followed that up with lighter effleurage. “Effleurage” is a French word meaning to skim or touch lightly. It is usually a lighter, longer, gliding, more caressing stroke. This was my forte. I am a naturally loving person and, to me, long gliding strokes feel better and convey a sense of being cared about. Well, what I learned is that whenever I switched my energy from “must work out the kinks” to “let me help you feel loved and cared for,” people melted, men as well as women. I learned that both genders are starved for loving touch.
I knew most women would appreciate Swedish massage – heavy on the effleurage – because, in my experience, most women carry a heavy load of responsibility and almost constantly feel overstressed and under-appreciated. Many women are taking care of almost all the needs of their children, plus most of the responsibilities of the household, plus running errands for their husbands, and many simultaneously work outside the home as well. It was clear to me that most women desperately need to feel loved. I happily let love show through the strokes of my hands. I was honored, for one hour, to be the one to help them feel utterly relaxed, safe, free from responsibility, and cared for.
I somehow made the mistake of assuming men would not have this same deep need. But then a couple experiences showed me differently. I distinctly remember a couple of male friends who, near the end of the massage, raised their head and turned to look at me with such a poignant combination of love, longing, and utter gratitude. It was as if I was somehow filling the role of The Great Mother. I was the one who loved them when no one else was loving them. I was the one they could trust. They could shed their fears as they shed their clothes and trust that as my hands glided across their bodies, they would feel more loved than they’d felt in a very long time.
I began to guess that single men might occasionally have the good fortune to have sex, but that didn’t necessarily mean they ever felt loved. I began to realize that even men in relationship, even men with long-term marriages or partnerships, may not necessarily feel much unconditional love. No doubt many of those relationships were burdened with great expectations and possibly a fair amount of nagging. Or perhaps the wife or partner was too tired at the end of the day to give anything else to anyone else. Or perhaps she wasn’t a naturally affectionate person.
Whatever the reason, it soon became crystal clear to me that many men were starved for touch. In addition to the evidence displayed among my massage clients, I have had a several boyfriends and partners who at the end of the day would regularly plead for me to rub their backs. The most capable and macho of men would suddenly come across as a little boy, begging his mother for a little backrub.
On the massage table, I’ve had both women and men half-jokingly say to me, “Will you marry me?” This told me that they wanted to feel this way all the time. It was like there was an unhealed wound inside, a part of their soul that had been neglected, a deep need that needed to be filled. “Will you love me?” That’s what I was hearing.
And so I began to allow my love to come through my hands. I began to think of my massage as a sacrament, as a prayer. It was like I was part masseuse, part priestess, part mother, part minister, part lover, all rolled into one. I administered love.
And that’s something every one of us needs.
cindygreb 