Aye, there's the rub . . .

I am not new to the world of massage. Over the past several years, I've had many massages at lots of different spas. I wouldn't say that I get them regularly, but they are an occasional indulgence for me. Anyhoo, whenever I book a massage, I always ask for a female massage therapist. I do this because, well, it just makes me feel more comfortable.

Sometimes I'm oddly modest, and I don't know why. I mean, I have been in SEVERAL stage productions where I had really quick changes. So I'd just run off stage, where two other people would be waiting to help me strip off my business suit, throw on a grandma dress/wig/glasses, and toss me back out there. And the technical crew is all sitting there, and the occasional intern is wandering through, and everybody can basically see everything, but it doesn't really bother me. I guess because a.) it's necessary and b.) it's work.

But when I'm just be-bopping through my normal life, I'm more modest. So I always request a female massage therapist. Because basically, the only man I've been half naked with in a darkened room is my husband, and I like to keep it that way.

So imagine my surprise when I showed up at Trio's today, and this tall guy in a black T-shirt walked up to me, extended his hand, and said "I'm Brad. Follow me, please."

I had a brief internal freak-out, but I am proud to say that I quickly brought it under control. And pretty soon, I was getting massaged and I didn't really care WHO was doing it, it felt so dang good. All the kinks are out of the muscles around my shoulder blades, and my lower back feels WONDERFUL!

So I think I'm getting over one more piece of internal paranoia, because if being in a dim room with Brad is wrong, I don't wanna be right. Dude's got talent.