The Engineer and I are not meant to lie, biologically that is. We suck at it, just ask our parents. We have no lying backbone whatsoever. This is one additional piece to why I choose to make the Engineer mine forever - if he does anything wrong, I'll know within 2 minutes tops.
My massage therapist, a 60-something, male, chatterbox type, goes through the normal procedures with me and asks if I'm sore in any particular areas. Well yes, my upper back is knot central. Could you focus there, please? He proceeds with "Where do you work?" At a hospital. "What are you a nurse, a tech...?" (And here is where I sinned.) Yeah, I'm a nurse.
Now you may ask why lie about your occupation? Especially since I am actually quite proud of my occupation. I've never ever lied about it before, but sometimes older men get a little awkward about it. They feel the need to either abruptly change the topic or ask a question to pretend like they really aren't feeling awkward...all while avoiding eye contact. And I was about to be NAKED for a solid hour with this man. So, I lied, in my selfish ambition to enjoy my massage in an awkward-free environment.
Mr. Chatterbox, however, must have a direct line to Jesus, because there was no "off the hook" with him. He starts massaging my back. "Oh yes, this (fill in fancy smancy muscle name) muscle is really tight. Do you remember this muscle?" No. (Oh, crap he thinks I'm a nurse). And at least 10 more times throughout my massage he asks "Do you remember (such and such) muscle?" Yeah... Which of course leads to more lies.
Towards the end of my massage, Mr. Chattebox decides it would be a good time to test my nursing knowledge a little further and points out a place on my neck that can cause a miscarriage. "If you massage here, in the webbings between your toes, fingers, or ankles it will cause you to miscarry. This is why we ask you if you are pregnant or trying to get pregnant." TRYING TO GET PREGNANT? You didn't ask me that question! What happens if your trying to get pregnant? "It'll cause the egg to go through your fallopian tube and right out your system" Well I'm trying to get pregnant!
Oh Mr. Chatterbox, why would you not ask me these pregnancy questions before telling me such horrible things. This was not the birthday treat I was looking to spend an arm and a leg on!
He awkwardly makes some comment about how he didn't really touch those areas. Sure thing, Mr. Chatterbox. "I'm surprised they didn't teach you that in class." Well I specialize in feeding. There I'm not lying anymore. "Oh you're a nutritionist!" And I think to myself "Oh, I just give up on this lie." He promises not to talk so much next time. NEXT TIME? I know about your wife, kids, your last 10 careers, your wife's last 10 careers, and your pastimes. Next time isn't looking too promising for you, Mr. Chatterbox.
Then I come home to google the chances of this guy actually massaging away our baby making chances for this month and decide I'm probably ok, but no more massages for me. Good grief, Mr. Chatterbox!
Luckily, I have an amazing husband who recovered the birthday funness with a day of little surprises.
The best one being this little gem.
He even sucked up his MAN-pride and bought me a Twilight birthday card!
The Engineer is my favorite, for sure!