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Rubbing It In

Rubbing It In

June 23, 2011

Planning to go out for a massage and end up rubbing my wife up the wrong way.

My younger brother is in town. He is on some project for the UAE government and I am afraid to ask him what he does to make a living, since he will have to kill me after telling me. Being the intelligent sort, I figured that information that has a shelf life of about 5 seconds, is perhaps not worth knowing.

For those who do not know, I am the middle son. I have an elder brother and a younger brother. Apart from the usual psychological problems this particular ‘birth defect’ has caused me, I also have to suffer the indignation of my limited physical appeal when my younger brother comes to town.

I can compete in the looks department with my elder brother. My parents were just getting the hang of it when they had him. Over the years they got better. So my younger brother is the result of lots of practice and it shows.

Me? I am neither here nor there.

Last week we were all sitting at my parents place, nursing our preferred poisons and my younger brother describes this great massage place he has discovered. Since his new acquaintances are among the small bunch of people who owns this giant sand pit they call a country, I take his talk about these excursions of leisure quite seriously. After all, who else but an Arab knows the true meaning of pleasure?

So, with my cabbage ears all perked up, I decide to feign an air of indifference while my sibling expounded on the sheer luxury of having his body pounded, kneaded and elbowed by nimble Chinese damsels. My air of indifference was also prompted by the presence of my wife, whose feminine sonic eardrum picked up only the Chinese damsel part, after which she turned and looked at me for my reaction. Years of experience with this particular member of the Superior gender has made my instinct for survival acute. I faked total nonchalance at this crucial information, sipped my liquid fire and turned to ask my elder brother what he thought of massages.

This, my friends, is the great Tys trick
which I will share with you.

When you deem your actions and reactions to being observed, turn the attention of the observer to a lesser player by pulling the lesser player into their observation field.

So while my elder brother dug his own grave by talking about Chinese massages, mindless of the various hues of color tones his wife's face seems to be undergoing, I sat back in anonymity to ponder upon a massage.

After all I live a stressful life.

As a mallu
, massage is something we get used to from the time we are born
. After having been pounded and kneaded and moulded into a semblance of a human being, we are taught to grow up with a feeling of guilt if we are massaged by a member of the opposite sex. So you are forced to lie on a wooden bed, with a depression, to drain the 10 kilo of coconut oil that is poured over you, while you are stamped into the woodwork by a half naked man.

We actually pay for being treated like this. So my brother's experience seemed, well, interesting.

Later on in the evening, after we bade farewell to the receding figures of our elder brother being dragged by the ears by his wife, we made plans to meet up the next day and be playdough for the oriental beauties. The plan was mentioned to my wife in an 'oh, by the way' kind of tone, which I hoped would convey to her the fact the decision was solely made for health reasons only, not for any amorous reason as she might mistakenly assume.

The whole night was spend in wondrous anticipation of the next day.

The morning saw me trimming my facial whiskers, clipping my claws, struggling against my ample food tank to cut my toe nails and finally going in for a luxurious shower.

Standing in front of the mirror in my entire naked splendor, I realized the enormity of the situation I will be putting those tiny Orientals through. It was with a silent resolve that I pulled the curtain on the whole scheme.

I called up my brother and cancelled the plan.

No woman should have to see a naked middle aged mallu man
. The world has its own share of miseries without that being added onto its list.

My wife is after all the only person I know who did a back flip when the optician informed her of her failing eyesight.

We all went to a Chinese Restaurant for lunch instead. 

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