I went to the spa...

A 'you've done good' gift to myself, and warranted time for personal relaxation. From experience, I've ventured away from massages and have turned towards body scrubs. You get the same massage quality, with added exfoliation, different textures, leading to different sensations, and a shower that feels as though it rinses layers of your skin off. In the middle of my full body scrub, my mind drifted to thoughts of being touched.

As a human, we want to be touched. As a woman, with such unique feminine characteristics, I venture to say we need to be touched, especially if in a relationship. We need to be adored, felt wanted, and to be caressed. Naked, lying on this table, in a sheer state of relaxation it dawned on me how long it's been since I've been touched by another human being. Not a hug, but more.

Months seem to multiply. My last massage prior to today was one of many I received in Thailand. Sex, well again, the months have multiplied since the last time. There is something to simply being touched. A back rub. A kiss, in which he holds your face. A finger down your spine, giving enough remnants to know it was there. I miss being touched...

As my thoughts drifted further, and her hands drifted down to my feet, I was transported to a ghost of relationships past. I had an ex, who I only really saw on the weekends. Whether my week had been stressful or routine, at least one night each weekend, he would burn incense, play jazz music, and willingly (without my asking) massage my feet until I fell asleep. To this day, years and years after our relationship has ended, I still secretly thank him for that gesture. It spoke volumes.

There is something about being touched.