Better Than Sex. Most sex. Some sex. ok I haven't had sex in a really long time.

Yesterday I met a man who could do things to my body I didn’t even realize were possible. His name is Joe, and he is my new massage therapist.

Last week I snagged a doctor’s note to go get a massage that would be covered by my insurance, so yesterday I got naked from the waist up and let Joe, who looks kind of like Tony Danza, work his magic hands all over my back. He’s amazing, and was saddened to hear that I am cruelly forced to sit behind a desk all day. “Sorry I’m being so aggressive with you, but you have a lot going on back here,” he said, and he kneaded my shoulder while placing his other hand firmly on the small of my back. “You might be sore for a couple of days so I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

Since my time with Joe, I’ve been trying hard to sit up straight. I moved my chair down so I can more directly look at my computer—Joe could tell I looked down all the time just by the curvature of my spine, and said if I keep it up (that and carrying around a heavy bag on my shoulder), I’m going to have all sorts of problems when I hit my 40s.

So I have a lot to work on. I haven’t felt this challenged to change my ways since my dental hygienist gave me a $150 toothbrush and told me “you and I are in this together.” Joe, I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.