OK the worst was also the first. Many years ago in my 20’s just broke up with a boyfriend. I saw one of those ads in the back of the local gay rag, hot buff guy pictured offering massage, got up the courage and made an appointment. When I got there the man who opened the door was of course not the man in the picture, more of a 60ish sort of Captain Kangaroo with a “Dutch Boy” hair doo. The apartment could only be described as, in the Liberace style on a K-Mart budget.
I was too shy and scared to run, so I stayed. He took off his robe to reveal only red satin boxers. There was a massage table so I got undressed and laid face down, under the towel.
I don’t really remember the massage, I think it was OK but I was too scared to move. There was a point where his big Persian cat jumped on the table and walked along my side. He yelled at the cat but cat kept coming back. Can’t tell what was going on in my head just wanted out of there. I did the turn over, more massage, the the attempt of a happy ending, but being in my 20’s it was quick and easy. After I came he knelt down with his head on the massage table and started praying and crying. I got up, got dressed, put the money by his head and ran out of there left him in the praying crying position in his own world. It was probably another 10 years before I went for another massage.