Note to self…

Restore offers couples massage classes on Monday and Wednesday nights.

That’s been something I’ve been meaning for us to check out, as touch is an activity in which Tom and I spend a non-trivial amount of time engaged, and massage is one of my favorite acts of service to perform (hello, touch as primary love language).  Given the knots in the man’s shoulders (mine too, if I’m being honest), I daresay we could both use more of it.   

I was just drooling over scoping out the Black Phoenix Trading Post‘s offerings for massage oils (uh, what’s up Aquae) and have periodically daydreamed about getting certified in such a hands-on healing artform.  While nine months of classes is a bit unrealistic for someone who’s already planning to take a pretty big hit within a year in terms of money and free-time, a few two hour classes seem pretty ideal.  As a sensate-seeking hedonist, I find touch to be a really grounding and calming expression of care.

I’ve mentioned before that I tend to internalize touch as an expression of affection, love, and care much more readily than other gestures, and this is not limited to romantic relationships.  My friends are all likely to attest that hugs, hand squeezes, arm rubs, and physical contact all make a discernible difference when I’m stressed or upset.  It also tends to be my first instinct when someone is hurting or afraid.  Tom has learned that if I am stressed or preoccupied, or if I can’t sleep, requesting a backrub from me is one of the three best ways to unplug my overactive brain and get me to quiet down and relax.  The idea of bringing more skill to that artform and investment of care and energy is really appealing.  


Plus, I don’t think anyone who loves me is going to complain, you know?

Note to self…

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