Inland, Dreaming of Waves

My therapist has a low sperm count

Sex left a comment on my last post about our similar shoulder afflictions. It reminded me of one of the physical therapists I went to about it.

One of the things I had done to me to solve my pain-down-the shoulder-blade-and-all-down-the-right-arm was neck stretches. So here I was on my back, my head in the hands of this big blond guy, and he's moving my head back and forth and telling me about him and his wife's attempts to conceive.

"The doctor told me I have a lot of the little guys," he said, "but they're not very fast."

Now, usually, when people say weird things to me, I can't think of a reply for 5 hours. It's why I never became a lawyer like my father. I'd have to call a recess before I'd be able to respond to a smartass remark from the other side.

But not this time. Oh no: the thoughts were coming thick and fast, and "Thanks for sharing" delivered in the ultimate sarcastic tone was the least of them.

So big blond fella pushes my head over to the right. Gently, of course. He's trying to stretch my brachial plexus (a complex of nerves and muscles in the neck), not break my neck.

For once in my life, I held my tongue when I should.

There was another therapist who once said to me, as he was stretching my arm into a completely unnatural position, "Tell me if I go too far."

It's like going on a date in the 1970s, except that boys then generally didn't tell me to stop them if they went too far. They WANTED to go too far.

Oh, and what the therapist was doing FELT GOOD. And I knew it was good for me too. But I was still glad when I didn't have to see him anymore. He looked like the man who'd just broken my heart. So badly that when I went on my first date with the man I married, I hugged the car door the entire night. I was afraid he might want to kiss me or some such shit.

But I guess I must have missed all the excitement, because in 2004 I started a course of rolfing. In rolfing you wear a bra/bikini top and shorts and walk around in front of the rolfer so he can see if you're "balanced." I know, I know, it's a cheap way to get a man to look at me.

And I was paying for it, no less.

posted by Price of Silence @ 10:34 PM