Asian massage spas: Four reasons to check them out

Anonymity. You will leave who you were on the pavement once inside the spa. You will be greeted by someone you never knew and will never know. “Hello Lady,” a woman will say. She will point to the menu. “What you want?” she will ask. An implicit agreement exists, namelessness and disregard. Some masseuses are taller than others, some are fatter, some are shorter, some are thinner, but they are all the same to clients, just like we are to them. My generic, pasty white body is indistinct from every other body that walks through the door.

Amy > Yelp review > Asian Massage Spa

Ugh! It was a new girl, and I tried to ask for the old girl, and they
just pushed me into the room. This new girl was awful, I’ll never
go back. You shouldn’t either.

Amy, you are not special, you don’t get to make requests and get annoyed when it doesn’t go your way. You are one in a thousand body. Nobody cares about you or your experience. Amy, take a lesson, the sooner you realize you are not special, maybe you will quit wanting to be. The Asian massage spa that was once home to a failed store for unique, hand embroidered kitchen towels will remind you that you are banal. You should be thankful for the realization.

Disconnection. These spas lack intimacy. Don’t worry, I get the paradox. I know that you will be completely naked and slightly cold on a hard surface. But that is not intimacy. Your masseuse doesn’t need to know anything about you and vice versa. I certainly never wanted to know my massage therapist was saving her money to buy a “she shed” in her backyard. I didn’t want to hear about her low-cost wedding at a city park where she learned too late that she needed a permit. I was not interested in her children. I know she applied some marketing strategy about human connection she learned at massage therapy school. I am sure the Asian women at strip mall spas never attended massage therapy schools. I don’t know if they are certified. I have not looked, and I don’t really care. I am not going for friendship, and you shouldn’t either. It is better to be awash in the tonal quality of a language and laughter that you do not understand. It makes detachment easy.

Carol > Google review > City Spa

They didn’t even try to get to know me. I mean, shouldn’t they at
least know why I’m there??!! One star!

Carol, no one is interested in you. If you haven’t figured out that the only reason people talk to you is so they can tell you their shit, then you are a child. Take my advice, keep your mouth shut and disconnect in a 90-minute massage. It is the best stress reliever you can ever have.

Transaction. This arrangement is strictly transactional. Less than a dollar a minute, I recommend the 90-minute, deep tissue massage. It’s cheap, but not so cheap that you will be unnerved. It is a safe space because you will have weighed your options, selected from the menu of choices, and paid your fee. There are no surprises; you need not be afraid. Without shame you will lay on the massage table, a thin blanket thrown on top of you, a paper towel on the head rest. You will peek through the hole of the head rest when the masseuse flips you on your stomach. There will be a pillow laying there. The women drop them there for easy retrieval to put under your head before attacking your temples. Once I had one with iron-on eyes with sparkle eyeshadow and the words “Be Glittery.” I take these pillows, whatever is on them, to be some message from a parallel universe. I never considered being glittery before, but in that moment, I thought I could give it a try. You have no idea what message may be waiting for you and there is no cost for the message.

Rob >Facebook review > Spa Central

I paid for 30-minutes and she shorted me by 2 minutes.

First, Rob, men shouldn’t go to Asian massage spas. You are playing into a stereotype; have a little self-awareness. Second, I guarantee some cheap ass such as yourself didn’t leave a tip, so consider it break even. Third, if you continue to go to these types of establishments, don’t be an asshole. Trust me, they hate you more than you hate them.

Submission. Anonymity, disconnection, and transaction allows you to submit. The masseuse will work up your thigh and you will not tense. As she nears your rib cage, then your breasts, your back will remain flat. As she moves between your toes, all you will think is let me feel this to my bones. When your legs are pulled and palpated, when your arms are bent to the masseuse’s will, when your fingers reflexively curl over her fingers, you will be free. I never cry out that that the pressure is too much; my body is on its own for a brief time.  

Joan > Yelp review > Massage

I walked in and it stank SOOO bad of body odor, I just turned
around and walked out. UGH!

Joan, lighten up, it was just some mildew. Once I was on a weekend trip in Toronto and I found a cost-effective Asian massage spa. The neighborhood was a bit run down, but after I walked up a narrow flight of stairs with a stained carpet, I forgot about everything under capable hands and the hum of a window unit.

*Disclaimer. Once Nancy (not her real name) broke the rules of engagement. She tapped the muscle on my left shoulder. “Why so tense?” she asked. I wanted to tell her that it was always that way. I wanted to tell her that I once drew a self-portrait, homework given by my therapist. I drew my left shoulder bulked and my right sloped. The therapist asked me why I was asymmetrical. I said, “Because of the cross I carry.” I wanted to tell Nancy that as a child, my mother would slap me, tell me to keep my mouth shut, and bear a cross for my sins. My eyes started to tear under Nancy’s hands. I wanted to tell Nancy that I do bear a cross, not for my sins, but one for all the sins done to me, the times I was forced to submit without a choice. But I didn’t answer her. Nancy didn’t need to know. She wouldn’t have understood my words any more than my therapist did. After I got dressed, Nancy gave me a paper cup of water. We bowed to each other, short and swift. My mascara was running. Nancy didn’t care; she already turned to clean the room for the next client.

Thank you for reading this column. If you buy my rationale and show up at one of the many Asian massage spas peppered in strip malls, don’t greet me if you see me there. Sit back and enjoy the Irish tune set to Asian instrumentation playing in the background. Respect my silence and I will do the same. Also, keep my disclaimer in the back of your mind. Even if you go to the spa in search of anonymity, disconnection, transaction, and elected submission, you may have an unexpected moment. But don’t complain in a review.

– Monica Harn