This was early November. I had just quit my girlfriend, changed jobs, made major purchases, I was considering moving to a new place, Epidemic was releasing the EP, lots was going on.
I remembered reading about self purification a while ago. I decided that while I was at it with all those changes I should get a check up at the doctor and what else... Hum, why not have my colon cleansed? That's not a natural thought for a normal grown man like me. I wouldn't be considering this if it wasn't for those articles talking about impacted feces and all the toxins sticking to your intestines. I grew genuinely concerned by all of that. To a point where once in a while I would spend a day only drinking lemony water in order to clean myself a little bit.
I noted months ago the phone number off a place my bus drives by every day that had a sign picturing a colon. I googled the place, it looked legit. I also read about the process so I knew what I was getting into. As horrible as it can get.
I took an appointment. The lady on the phone had a bad russian accent. I took it for the following Friday afternoon ( I made sure I had the day off at work for this). I kind of felt, through what I gathered from our conversation, I could have just dropped in whenever I wanted. However, I so was adamant in pulling through this motherfucker that I pushed any shadow of suspicion aside.
I remembered my ex-girlfriend would be over Montreal that same weekend to pick up some things at my apartment and also so we could talk about the break up and other things we had to arrange. We also wanted to catch up as friends. Coming out of a 4 year relationship is more complicated than meets the eye. The general plan was for her to come over Thursday night, Friday morning we'd have breakfast, then we'd go on our personal errands we had to run (by now you have a rough estimate of what kind of 'errand' I had to run). After we could meet up again in late afternoon for a snack somewhere. I made sure that somewhere was a Second Cup a block from the Colonic Irrigation place.
I covered up my colonic plans to her (and everybody I know) by telling her I would meet up my old boss at my old workplace for a coffee somewhere downtown. Which was true, by the way, I just did not intend spending the whole afternoon doing so.
Thursday night came. I found out the ex was more insecure than I thought about the break up and she was already fearing the day she would see me with another gal. I tried reassuring her by telling her that wasn't about to happen anytime soon.
After breakfast I headed downtown to my old office space. It was good seeing my old boss. She was always a pleasant woman being around with. We had coffee. Then I was off to hell.
I took a scary elevator up, walked a corridor probably left untouched since 1967 and entered the door frame of my destination. Turns out it was a full on spa. They had a sweat cabin from where your head sticks out a wooden box. There was also massage rooms and a place for a mud bath. Next to me, plenty of flyers about natural health were laid out on a table for guests. What sketched me out is how small the place was. It could only receive a maximum of three or four guests at once.
For no apparent reason, Irina, the lady in charge, the same I talked to on the phone, told me they couldn't accommodate me right away. Irina was a blonde russian, probably in her mid 40's. She was still looking good but, you know, make-up couldn't make up for that much longer. Her accent seemed worst in person.
Instead of waiting she offered me a deal on a one hour massage.
What the heck. I went for it.
- Go in this room, have shower and lay on table, Katrina will come soon.
Sounds great. I glanced at Katrina and she was perfect for the circumstances. Not bad looking at all but not too good looking. Last thing I wanted was to go for a colonic with a raging boner.
Showered, dried off. Katrina knocked at the door just as I was putting my boxers back on. I laid on the table on my back as she asked me to. She then proceeded to massage me real good. I think I would have fully enjoyed it if it wasn't for the impeding doom awaiting me.
I realized I should have been naked for the massage because now the waist band of my boxers was oiled up. Oh well. I had another shower afterwards to clean away the oil that was rubbed all over me.
I figured that I should call my ex to tell her I might run a bit late on our rendez-vous at Second Cup. After I did so, Irina walked me to the colon room. I already knew about the machines that were to be used from the Internet. I did my research, trust me. This decision to willingly have something in my a-hole had to be, at least, an informed one. As I looked at the clock a few seconds before tube insertion, I realized I was going to be more late than I thought to that thing. Unless I was out of that hellhole in 15 minutes, which I doubted.
I'll do my best to leave out as many details as I can. All I can say is that the operation is not painful but frightingly uncomfortable.
Prior to the insertion, Irina had the courtesy of lubing up my asshole. Then promptly warned me about what was to come. The bitch fingerbanged me. To check my prostate. Apparently they can tell you a lot by feeling your prostate. Irina had the clairvoyance of telling me I should have more sex. Thanks for the newsflash, violator.
I don't know what was wrong with me. After 20 minutes laying half naked on my side on that cold table, only half a dozen crap flakes went zipping by the illuminated horizontal glass tube that was part of he contraption designed to process what my body would eventually decide to reject. During those long minutes, Irina was praising the virtues of the treatment she offers. And she went on again on how sex is good for losing weight and good for my body, reminding me that my prostate is too big and that a beautiful man like me should be getting some.
My phone rang. Of course I'm late, that's to be expected. I couldn't answer in that position, so Irina brought my pair of jeans over so I could pick my phone in my pockets. I missed the call. Irina wanted me to call her back but you know what, I didn't feel like making a phone call. Not now.
Back on the other end of my body, not much was happening. Irina had to bring in some extra workforce to massage my back during the operation. Apparently this can initiate some bowel movement. Katrina gladly joined back in. However, things became awkward when they started talking russian to each other. Both of them were massaging me as if I was a half-empty tube of cookie dough.
And Irina had a constant flow of calls. People taking appointments. My homeland sketched out advisory system went in orange alert when Irina asked a gentleman on the phone which masseuse he wanted this week.
My phone rang again.
- Why are you late?
- Hum, I didn't see time pass by with my boss. Stay there, I'm on my way.
- I can come and meet you guys over, tell me where you are.
- Oh, no, don't bother, just have a coffee, pick up a magazine, I'll be there in 20 minutes.
- Oh... Okay.
Things were progressing a bit on the bottom end. I was seeing more matter flowing through the tube. Not enough for Irina, unfortunately. I honestly thought that wasn't much either. With persistence we could come through.
Twelve minutes later, the ex rings me again. I could discern this insecure tone in her voice.
- Where are you?
- I'm still on my way, thanks for waiting.
- Let me meet you, I know you're lying.
Of course she always knew when I tried to lie. Anybody who knows me a bit is aware I'm a terrible liar.
- Please wait for me, I'll tell you later what's really going on.
- You sound really weird, tell me the truth now.
I guess I sounded really strange when every second word I pronounced was followed by sighing and even some occasional slight grunting from my part. I had warm water irrigating my bowels. You can't possibly hold a normal conversation, let alone one like these, in similar circumstances.
- OK, well, you see, I'm in a colonic cleansing place, whatever how you call those places... I am getting a treatment there. This is one of the worst things I've ever done. I don't need your crazy bullshit at this moment.
There you go. I blew my cover and gave away my dignity in order to ease my ex girlfriend's suspicions of me secretly hooking up with my old boss.
- Oh yeah? Give me a break. Why don't you give me the address. I'll wait for you there.
- Please wait for me at Second Cup, I'm only a block away.
She was still not buying it and had me ask Irina mid-treatment what's the address so she could meet me there. I told her to wait for me in the small waiting room they set up there.
Five minutes later I hear the buzzer indicating a customer walked in the place. Irina greeted her new visitor. I could hear them coming in the room I was in. Oh, no. No fucking way, you're not walking in here, not now.
- Sit down and wait for me, I'll be done soon. Read some flyers, all right?
Irina was more than welcoming to her. Even though I told Irina she was my ex, her bad english probably misunderstood this as "she's my fiancee" or god knows... Irina had another one of her courtesies by inviting my "fiancee" to join me in that moment of hardship. Irina truly felt my pain through this experience and having my wife-to-be by my side would sure help me out through this. My ex being of russian descent, Irina was quick to be even more kind to her.
I guess up to that point, my ex even had more rights to be suspicious. She most likely picked up on the massage aspect of the business.
They both walked in. I had no barrier, no defense. Naked on a table, curled up, naked with only a towel covering half my ass. And the tube. This fucking tube, expelling fluids out of my sorry ass.
- Is that proof enough I'm not smooching up with my old boss?
- I'm so sorry. I'll be in the waiting room.
And this what it took to end this latest episode of crazy she had. Clearly one of the aspects of our relationship that made it impossible for us to go any further together.
After the treatment I headed for another shower, put my clothes back on. When I walked out of the changing room, Irina was giving an enthusiastic tour of the place to my ex. I met them as Irina was showing her leeches.
They kept leeches for some type of indian healing method. I already knew about this from the MTV show Wild Boyz when Steve-O took one in the eye for entertainment purposes. I was always repelled by those suckers. As a kid I would never swim anywhere near those. Irina told me having five of those on my chest for twenty minutes could help bring down my cholesterol. No thanks, I'll stick to that thing they call EXERCISING for this.
Irina was also quick to remind me, now my "fiancee" being by my side, once again, the joys and benefits of regular sex. We decided to join our efforts telling her we broke up, divorced, separated, finished, through, niet... She paused and said:
- This don't matter, he very handsome man, and you very beautiful russian woman. You two should be making love all the time at your age.
My ex was in a very apologetic mood for the rest of the night. With no surprise, I opted for dinner at home. She cooked dinner for me and was trying to be as empathic as possible with me. I still appreciate this attitude to this day. I guess the whole experience helped her moving on with her life, in a weird, disgusting way. I still giggle to myself this day thinking this is one of the last memory she has of me.
And Irina: you complimented me, massaged me and fingerbanged me. With a bottle or five of vodka, you'd probably have a shot with me.
I remembered reading about self purification a while ago. I decided that while I was at it with all those changes I should get a check up at the doctor and what else... Hum, why not have my colon cleansed? That's not a natural thought for a normal grown man like me. I wouldn't be considering this if it wasn't for those articles talking about impacted feces and all the toxins sticking to your intestines. I grew genuinely concerned by all of that. To a point where once in a while I would spend a day only drinking lemony water in order to clean myself a little bit.
I noted months ago the phone number off a place my bus drives by every day that had a sign picturing a colon. I googled the place, it looked legit. I also read about the process so I knew what I was getting into. As horrible as it can get.
I took an appointment. The lady on the phone had a bad russian accent. I took it for the following Friday afternoon ( I made sure I had the day off at work for this). I kind of felt, through what I gathered from our conversation, I could have just dropped in whenever I wanted. However, I so was adamant in pulling through this motherfucker that I pushed any shadow of suspicion aside.
I remembered my ex-girlfriend would be over Montreal that same weekend to pick up some things at my apartment and also so we could talk about the break up and other things we had to arrange. We also wanted to catch up as friends. Coming out of a 4 year relationship is more complicated than meets the eye. The general plan was for her to come over Thursday night, Friday morning we'd have breakfast, then we'd go on our personal errands we had to run (by now you have a rough estimate of what kind of 'errand' I had to run). After we could meet up again in late afternoon for a snack somewhere. I made sure that somewhere was a Second Cup a block from the Colonic Irrigation place.
I covered up my colonic plans to her (and everybody I know) by telling her I would meet up my old boss at my old workplace for a coffee somewhere downtown. Which was true, by the way, I just did not intend spending the whole afternoon doing so.
Thursday night came. I found out the ex was more insecure than I thought about the break up and she was already fearing the day she would see me with another gal. I tried reassuring her by telling her that wasn't about to happen anytime soon.
After breakfast I headed downtown to my old office space. It was good seeing my old boss. She was always a pleasant woman being around with. We had coffee. Then I was off to hell.
I took a scary elevator up, walked a corridor probably left untouched since 1967 and entered the door frame of my destination. Turns out it was a full on spa. They had a sweat cabin from where your head sticks out a wooden box. There was also massage rooms and a place for a mud bath. Next to me, plenty of flyers about natural health were laid out on a table for guests. What sketched me out is how small the place was. It could only receive a maximum of three or four guests at once.
For no apparent reason, Irina, the lady in charge, the same I talked to on the phone, told me they couldn't accommodate me right away. Irina was a blonde russian, probably in her mid 40's. She was still looking good but, you know, make-up couldn't make up for that much longer. Her accent seemed worst in person.
Instead of waiting she offered me a deal on a one hour massage.
What the heck. I went for it.
- Go in this room, have shower and lay on table, Katrina will come soon.
Sounds great. I glanced at Katrina and she was perfect for the circumstances. Not bad looking at all but not too good looking. Last thing I wanted was to go for a colonic with a raging boner.
Showered, dried off. Katrina knocked at the door just as I was putting my boxers back on. I laid on the table on my back as she asked me to. She then proceeded to massage me real good. I think I would have fully enjoyed it if it wasn't for the impeding doom awaiting me.
I realized I should have been naked for the massage because now the waist band of my boxers was oiled up. Oh well. I had another shower afterwards to clean away the oil that was rubbed all over me.
I figured that I should call my ex to tell her I might run a bit late on our rendez-vous at Second Cup. After I did so, Irina walked me to the colon room. I already knew about the machines that were to be used from the Internet. I did my research, trust me. This decision to willingly have something in my a-hole had to be, at least, an informed one. As I looked at the clock a few seconds before tube insertion, I realized I was going to be more late than I thought to that thing. Unless I was out of that hellhole in 15 minutes, which I doubted.
I'll do my best to leave out as many details as I can. All I can say is that the operation is not painful but frightingly uncomfortable.
Prior to the insertion, Irina had the courtesy of lubing up my asshole. Then promptly warned me about what was to come. The bitch fingerbanged me. To check my prostate. Apparently they can tell you a lot by feeling your prostate. Irina had the clairvoyance of telling me I should have more sex. Thanks for the newsflash, violator.
I don't know what was wrong with me. After 20 minutes laying half naked on my side on that cold table, only half a dozen crap flakes went zipping by the illuminated horizontal glass tube that was part of he contraption designed to process what my body would eventually decide to reject. During those long minutes, Irina was praising the virtues of the treatment she offers. And she went on again on how sex is good for losing weight and good for my body, reminding me that my prostate is too big and that a beautiful man like me should be getting some.
My phone rang. Of course I'm late, that's to be expected. I couldn't answer in that position, so Irina brought my pair of jeans over so I could pick my phone in my pockets. I missed the call. Irina wanted me to call her back but you know what, I didn't feel like making a phone call. Not now.
Back on the other end of my body, not much was happening. Irina had to bring in some extra workforce to massage my back during the operation. Apparently this can initiate some bowel movement. Katrina gladly joined back in. However, things became awkward when they started talking russian to each other. Both of them were massaging me as if I was a half-empty tube of cookie dough.
And Irina had a constant flow of calls. People taking appointments. My homeland sketched out advisory system went in orange alert when Irina asked a gentleman on the phone which masseuse he wanted this week.
My phone rang again.
- Why are you late?
- Hum, I didn't see time pass by with my boss. Stay there, I'm on my way.
- I can come and meet you guys over, tell me where you are.
- Oh, no, don't bother, just have a coffee, pick up a magazine, I'll be there in 20 minutes.
- Oh... Okay.
Things were progressing a bit on the bottom end. I was seeing more matter flowing through the tube. Not enough for Irina, unfortunately. I honestly thought that wasn't much either. With persistence we could come through.
Twelve minutes later, the ex rings me again. I could discern this insecure tone in her voice.
- Where are you?
- I'm still on my way, thanks for waiting.
- Let me meet you, I know you're lying.
Of course she always knew when I tried to lie. Anybody who knows me a bit is aware I'm a terrible liar.
- Please wait for me, I'll tell you later what's really going on.
- You sound really weird, tell me the truth now.
I guess I sounded really strange when every second word I pronounced was followed by sighing and even some occasional slight grunting from my part. I had warm water irrigating my bowels. You can't possibly hold a normal conversation, let alone one like these, in similar circumstances.
- OK, well, you see, I'm in a colonic cleansing place, whatever how you call those places... I am getting a treatment there. This is one of the worst things I've ever done. I don't need your crazy bullshit at this moment.
There you go. I blew my cover and gave away my dignity in order to ease my ex girlfriend's suspicions of me secretly hooking up with my old boss.
- Oh yeah? Give me a break. Why don't you give me the address. I'll wait for you there.
- Please wait for me at Second Cup, I'm only a block away.
She was still not buying it and had me ask Irina mid-treatment what's the address so she could meet me there. I told her to wait for me in the small waiting room they set up there.
Five minutes later I hear the buzzer indicating a customer walked in the place. Irina greeted her new visitor. I could hear them coming in the room I was in. Oh, no. No fucking way, you're not walking in here, not now.
- Sit down and wait for me, I'll be done soon. Read some flyers, all right?
Irina was more than welcoming to her. Even though I told Irina she was my ex, her bad english probably misunderstood this as "she's my fiancee" or god knows... Irina had another one of her courtesies by inviting my "fiancee" to join me in that moment of hardship. Irina truly felt my pain through this experience and having my wife-to-be by my side would sure help me out through this. My ex being of russian descent, Irina was quick to be even more kind to her.
I guess up to that point, my ex even had more rights to be suspicious. She most likely picked up on the massage aspect of the business.
They both walked in. I had no barrier, no defense. Naked on a table, curled up, naked with only a towel covering half my ass. And the tube. This fucking tube, expelling fluids out of my sorry ass.
- Is that proof enough I'm not smooching up with my old boss?
- I'm so sorry. I'll be in the waiting room.
And this what it took to end this latest episode of crazy she had. Clearly one of the aspects of our relationship that made it impossible for us to go any further together.
After the treatment I headed for another shower, put my clothes back on. When I walked out of the changing room, Irina was giving an enthusiastic tour of the place to my ex. I met them as Irina was showing her leeches.
They kept leeches for some type of indian healing method. I already knew about this from the MTV show Wild Boyz when Steve-O took one in the eye for entertainment purposes. I was always repelled by those suckers. As a kid I would never swim anywhere near those. Irina told me having five of those on my chest for twenty minutes could help bring down my cholesterol. No thanks, I'll stick to that thing they call EXERCISING for this.
Irina was also quick to remind me, now my "fiancee" being by my side, once again, the joys and benefits of regular sex. We decided to join our efforts telling her we broke up, divorced, separated, finished, through, niet... She paused and said:
- This don't matter, he very handsome man, and you very beautiful russian woman. You two should be making love all the time at your age.
My ex was in a very apologetic mood for the rest of the night. With no surprise, I opted for dinner at home. She cooked dinner for me and was trying to be as empathic as possible with me. I still appreciate this attitude to this day. I guess the whole experience helped her moving on with her life, in a weird, disgusting way. I still giggle to myself this day thinking this is one of the last memory she has of me.
And Irina: you complimented me, massaged me and fingerbanged me. With a bottle or five of vodka, you'd probably have a shot with me.
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