It’s a term we have come to recognize the world over, but in a modern world, is the idea of a man’s happy ending any more acceptable than it ever was?
It all came about rather innocently. Long hot Mexican days. Lazy hotel rooms. A massage with a ‘relaxing completion’ - the Mayan way. So Mr chill books an appointment, then sinks back onto the big bed and re-reads the description, contemplating the ending. He thinks this is hilarious. I think it’s perhaps a little dubious. Either way, we were going to find out what it meant.
I sat for a moment processing. There was no way it was going to be ‘a happy ending,’ right? Not in this day and age. Not in this country. Thailand, perhaps. But not South America, and not on the menu in a top end hotel. Then my inner voice chirped up.
‘Is it really so bad?’ Yes it is. ‘What’s it matter?’ Eh – HELLLLLO! ‘Are you getting all insecure right now, is this what this is…. Oh dear.’ Hold on a minute, is my own mind mocking me? Since when was it cool for my man to be grinning from face to face with another woman’s hand in his privates? ‘It’s like working in a sausage factory – one in, one out.’ Oh no.
I did it. I picked up the phone and called my mother.
My mother is the voice of reason in all things. She is wild and liberating, a true hippy swinging artist of the sixties. There is no-one else in the world as laid back and understanding as this lady is. Even my friends go to her in times of crisis. She could side-line in therapy.
‘Mum…..’ I told her my dilemma. She laughed. Not in a humorous, embarrassed way. This was a whole hearted laugh. ‘So what,’ she said. And I could hear her clattering things in the background. ‘So what?’ ‘Yeah, so what. It’s nothing.’ ‘Mum!’ ‘Really, it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest is your father had a lovely massage, all relaxed and the lady finished with a happy ending. Sure, it’d mean no more to either of them than a good hand shake at the door.’ I was speechless. The words had been stolen from my mouth and lost in the ether. I could hear my dad laugh, his distant voice saying, ‘well that’s good to know, yet to happen, but still good to know.’ There was sarcasm in his tone. ‘Mum, really. Be serious.’ ‘I am.’ And she was. Totally. ‘It won’t be the case sweetie, but even if it was, you’re bigger than that. A girl in some bar, no, but some lady churning them out for good feedback on her comment cards, no worries there.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yep, it’s another thing altogether. I doubt he’d want it but if it happens, let it go. You’re much bigger than to be phased by a little thing like that.’ We hung up and I sat for a moment thinking it through.
Was I cool with it? Ummmmm, no. Did I want it to happen? Most certainly not. But damn my mum was cool!