Hands on

DSC_1660 Hatfield Moore, a photo by Lillput on Flickr.

So, it's my second date with - let's call him Bob. We swap pleasantries and catch up a bit - it's been three weeks since we last saw each other.

He suggests I remove my top. Now, I'm not in the least confident in being only partially clothed around other people but knew this was likely to happen so I comply and I stand there a little awkwardly.

He smiles and asks me to move whilst he stands behind me and watches. This does nothing to improve my self-consciousness.

I lie on the bed, then he asks me to lie face down (and very politely took my glasses from me), then asks me to adopt a position on my hands and knees and arch my back.

All this time Bob's very polite, encouraging and complimentary.

Finally, he asks me to stand up and he stands behind me again. He places his left arm across my upper chest and places his right hand on my right shoulder blade and massages the muscles there very hard.

This date has been just about as physically intimate as is possible to imagine - and yet it's totally asexual.

Bob's my NHS physiotherapist.

I'm thoroughly impressed that, whilst locking his limbs around mine, he manages to make me feel completely comfortable.

I'm not that good with people. I'm considerably less good when I'm reduced to underwear. So his manner, professional but warm, is an exmplar of how to deal with patients.

Thank you Bob...