In my most humble opinion, I present the following.
You cannot compare a massage business interaction, with or without extras, to any other service-oriented profession. And, I must go to a more extreme example.
If a customer walked in the door with an obvious contagious disease, infected skin, leprosy, hacking cough, COVID, unclean to the point of unbathed, or even a creepy “Rex” vibe, herpes, or even any other symptoms that makes the masseuse uneasy, (perceived real or unreal) and fears that touching that person in any way will affect her psyche or physical/emotional well being, (again even if imagined or by rumor) she has the right to refuse their business. And, remember, I am saying this, having been refused in other countries for being a foreigner, (hopefully the only reason) not infrequently, and it’s not an easy pill to swallow. And, in fact, for myself, leads to feelings of alienation, and disconnection, and frustration.
The only profession that “comes near” to not refusing anybody in the above circumstances would be the medical profession, because of the Hippocratic Oath. But, even then, there is no legal obligation.
When I am turned away, I understand their plight also. Because, if I were providing a service where I massaged or offered extras to customers, and I didn’t want a customer for whatever reason, I would definitely refuse providing a service to a customer that I did not want to mix physical contact with. There is the “right of refusal.”
It is not like buying a sandwich or gasoline. In massage, with or without extras, it is a much deeper interpersonal more intimate relationship. Our skins are touching. We (us guys) have all said or thought, at one time or another, with respect to some person: “I wouldn’t touch them for all the money in the world,” or “I wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole.” Or as my boss used to say, “I wouldn’t fuck her even with yours.” (He was from Brooklyn)
There are just some women, I just would not want to touch, for whatever reason. Maybe she reminds me of my mother or sister or ex-girlfriend or someone that I have bad memories or bad feelings of. I should not have to subject myself to that unpleasant experience if I do not choose to.
I mean, I had to get used to the fact that not everybody likes me or my appearance. The only solace is that some do like me. Some are attracted and some are repulsed. And, some can take me or leave me.
It is no different than getting turned down in a bar by a girl. You move on to the next one, and you might get along fine, have your drink and leave together.
In life, you can’t get hung up on a refusal. You simply move on.
When I get turned down as a foreigner, (again, I hope and pray that is the only reason) I do take it to heart, though. I do analyze myself, my appearance, my vibe, and try to understand why I am being refused. Because, I believe that they would probably accept a foreigner, possibly if they found him more similar to their vibe, or more likable, sharing their qualities or even being intrigued by their differences.
For myself, I took stock in myself, shaved down my “Abraham Lincoln/Smith Brothers/ZZ Top” scraggly beard in a country where beards are considered uncouth, basically because their genes just do not grow them, brighten up my appearance with a fine haircut, brighter clothes, and a less intimidating demeanor.
There’s plenty of fish in the sea. When I get refused, I walk away, consoling myself that it probably would have been a waste of money, anyway if she was guarded and scared of me.
I once went with a girl that was scared of my foreignness, but it must have been a desperately slow night. She was guarded throughout the session, scared to be too close. There was sex, but she guarded her heart area. I didn’t feel her emotional flow. But, by the end of the session, she warmed up a bit, and I behaved gentlemanly like. Because of her hesitancy, I went out of my way to alleviate her fears; I behaved respectfully and reserved. I created a mood of safety. Upon completion, I gave her a few of the locally respected confections.
The next time we met in the street, she ran to me like my little girlfriend. Her other girlfriends and pimps took notice. I built a better reputation. I realized that with some effort I can break down the barriers of cultural differences and allow another to see that we humans, black, brown, yellow, red, white, albino, are quite similar. It’s an uphill battle, but quite rewarding.It shouldn’t have to be, but it is.
