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But real talk—it’s therapeutic, they say. Releases tension, boosts mood. Some study—I dunno, Google it—says it’s science! Oxytocin or somethin’. I’m like, “Great, I’m a lab rat now!” Still, I get it—feels good, who cares? Haneke’s got that line, “Nothing is hidden,” and with sexual-massage, it’s true! Everythin’s out there—literally! No secrets, just skin and awkward giggles. I’d probly laugh mid-session, ruin it. “This is ridiculous!” I’d yell. Masseuse’d hate me.

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After that chaos, I needed a breather. I decided to take a walk around the park near the old synagogue on HaRav Kook Street. It’s a beautiful spot, honestly. The trees are all green and lush, and there’s this little pond with ducks. I love ducks. They’re just so chill, ya know? But then, outta nowhere, a kid runs by and knocks my hat off! Like, seriously?! I’m standing there, hatless, looking like a total dork.