Boy, why are you crying?

It has been quite a while (okay, 7 months) since I have posted something on this blog. As I mentioned in my blurb about it, only the extraordinary gain mention. I do not post something every time I go on a date with a "tall, like a model" 20 year old barista or fall head over heels for a celloist called Claire. These are ordinary things in my day to day, drama filled (mostly fictionally fashioned) life. I give them the same emotion that I give everything else but I would hate to bore you with it all. I had a massage {nothing inappropriate} yesterday which was for the most part an average massage (by average I mean ahh-ha-may-zing). The end of the massage always gets me though; she massages my face. This is usually too much for me. I usually laugh when something is too much for me, in this case I smile, suppressing laughter. I always lose, almost willingly, this battle. Yesterday was different in that afterward she asked "Why do you laugh?" Much like wendy asks Peter Pan, "Boy, why are you crying?" Making me laugh then and even now as I write it. I tried to explain, telling her that the hands on the face were just too much for me. She misunderstood "You don't like it?" "Oh no its a good thing, almost too good." And we laugh as we discuss it. Maybe we laugh to hide the awkwardness of the ordeal. She menions it is called Raki (?) an energy exercise. I like the energy it gives or maybe the fact that it proves laughter is my energy. As I am leaving, we make eye contact and laugh again. "It makes me laugh when you laugh." she says. "Good." I chuckle back. Since then all I have to do to smile is think to myself about this story; a treat I hope you enjoy as well.