Women's Health may earn money from the links on this page, but we only feature products we believe in. Why trust us? Jan 22, Shutterstock Nathan G-Chats me on Friday afternoon to suggest we start our weekend inhaling dumplings in Chinatown.
During dinner, he tells me more about a girl he's just begun seeing. He's excited—they've just had their first sleepover on Wednesday, which is always nice. But he didn't sleep well in her bed.
He'd been positioned awkwardly and was now nursing a kink in the neck. We decide there is no time like the present—especially since we're in Chinatown. Nathan chooses the first not-so-shady-looking establishment we encounter. A woman at the front desk tells us we don't need an appointment and that our respective masseuses will retrieve us momentarily.
A few minutes later, a woman who appears to be about our age mids leads Nathan to the back of the building. Shortly thereafter, a slightly older woman emerges and summons me back. I follow her through a beaded curtain to a hall with a bunch of doors, one of which she points me through.
She tells me in broken English and hand gestures that I should disrobe, don a towel, and lie down on the table. She leaves the room so I can strip down to my privates in private. Let me be clear here: I did not expect any sort of funny business at this point.
