Should a Bro Be Naked During a Massage?
The answer to this question depends upon what you’re seeking. If you’re in the market for a happy ending, then yes, nudity is key—but I’m pretty sure this is already common knowledge. My specific question revolves around that of a good, old-fashioned, therapeutic massage. This, by the way, is the only type of massage I recommend. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a nice tug, but there is absolutely no way I’m paying for it—the differences between masturbating and receiving a hand job are much too subtle to justify the cost. In all fairness, they are far from perfect substitutes, but why spend $60 on a three-minute jerk when you can receive a 90-minute massage for the same price? It doesn’t make any sense. An hour and a half of skillful massage defeats three minutes of lubey hand job, 100 percent of the time, every time.
So back to my original question: Should you get naked during a massage?
Until recently I had only indulged in Deep Tissue and Swedish massage, and for whatever reason, I always assumed you were supposed to get naked. Whether or not I was naked for these massages never came into play—a thin sheet of fabric perpetually divided my front and back from the masseuse’s sight and touch. Then I received a Thai massage. This is when shit got weird.
For those of you in the dark, a Thai massage is when a female ninja walks on your back while using gravity, karate, and ballet to knead away your aches and pains. It’s simply delightful. But near the end of this massage, things start to get wonky—especially if you’re in the nude. The masseuse awkwardly maneuvers your body into a series of uncomfortable positions that leave your junk completely exposed. So there I was, torqued into a pretzel, as my dick shamelessly flapped just inches away from this angel’s face. My initial thoughts were, “Ok. I guess this is normal. All massages occur in the nude, so this is definitely normal.” And so I continued to receive naked massages, until one day, everything changed.
It all started when I bought some new clothes—a purchase that included several pairs of compression shorts. For those of you still in the dark, compression shorts are skintight boxer-briefs that keep your dick from going rouge while you’re breaking a sweat. They’re awesome. I happened to be wearing a pair of these shorts during my next massage and, uncharacteristically, left them on instead of going nude. The massage that followed was the best I ever had. I couldn’t immediately pinpoint the source of the difference, but the quality gap was severe. It wasn’t until several massages later—half in the shorts, half in the nude—that a bulb above my head began to glow.
I slowly realized that going nude forced my masseuse to be extra cautious. Now I didn’t want nor did I expect a happy ending, but on paper, I’m a naked white guy in an Asian massage parlor. There’s also a good chance the masseuse was unaware of my economic stance regarding hand job elasticity. This lack of information forced her to spend the entire massage staying away from any and all gray areas—a subtle obstacle which prevents a good massage from becoming great.
Enter compression shorts. A largely unknown benefit of compression shorts is that during a massage, they act as a safeguard from questionable contact. The skintight fabric provides a precise border between your yea and nay regions. Even if the masseuse accidentally grazes your beans, the thin layer of skintight material sustains a socially acceptable safety zone. It’s gerrymandering at its finest. Once theses lines of demarcation are drawn, the masseuse is free to engage your body without the slightest fear of mixing signals. In that moment, the compression shorts become a shield—a shield that empowers your masseuse into giving it her all without any potential misinterpretations. This subtle adjustment propels a good massage into becoming great.
And there you have it. If you’re looking for a tug, then strip on down and take a chance. If, however, you’re a fiscally responsible adult who needs to loosen some knots, then buy some shorts, call your masseuse, and prepare for the massage of a lifetime—you will not be disappointed.
Godspeed, and yes, you’re most certainly welcome.
When he’s not receiving luxurious massages, Heath tweets at @_TheBeardedPoet. You should check him out while wondering what he’s wearing at all hours of the day.