Three months. That is all it took for Maria to realize the massage table was a battleground. The 38-year-old qualified therapist had seen enough. Now, she simply refuses to take on new male clients. The reason? Creepy behavior that left her feeling unsafe.
She is not alone. Across Scotland, female therapists are dealing with a relentless barrage of sleaze. Constant requests for “extras.” Smirking pushback on basic boundaries. It is exhausting. It is also entirely legal, given the complete lack of industry regulation.
Maria, who runs Gentle Hands Massage Therapy in East Ayrshire, has a strict protocol. She leaves the room while clients undress. They keep their underwear on and stay under a blanket. Simple, right? Not for everyone. One male client constantly demanded to be uncovered. She would walk back in to find him face down, legs spread, wearing loose underwear. He knew the rules. He just did not care.
Then came the flashpoint. The same man tried to show her his groin. She shut it down, reminding him she was not trained for that. He kept offering weird compliments, claiming she was “keeping him alive.” It was grooming, plain and simple. When another male client argued about the blanket, Maria drew the line. She pivoted her business to focus almost entirely on women.
The stress was eating her alive. Thirty minutes before every male appointment, her stomach would knot up. She would mentally rehearse escape routes and confrontation strategies. With women, that fear vanishes. She kept two trusted, long-term male clients, but the door is locked to any others. Growth is slower now, but she can finally breathe.
Over in Glasgow, Dani operates under similar rules. The 35-year-old runs Drift by Dani. She only treats men she knows personally or those vetted by trusted clients. Safety is paramount, especially during late-night sessions. She once blacklisted a man for joking to his mates that she offered “happy endings.” One rumor can destroy a reputation built on sweat and tears. She was not risking it.
Both women want change. They want standardized training on how to handle predators. They want a regulatory body. Right now, Scotland has nothing. No laws. No watchdog. If a client crosses the line, the only option is the police, and many therapists hesitate, wondering if their ordeal is “bad enough” to warrant a siren.
Jenny Storey has seen it all. She has spent 25 years in the trade and speaks for the British Association of Beauty Therapy & Cosmetology (BABTAC). At 19, a male client locked her in a treatment room. She escaped, but the trauma stuck. Now 44, she trains her own staff at Urban Retreat to expect the worst. She does not ban men entirely, but she admits the constant stream of sleazy social media inquiries has desensitized her. It is a joke to the clients, but a threat to the therapists.
The Scottish government offered the usual platitudes. A spokesperson declared that everyone deserves to feel safe at work and called the behavior unacceptable. They urged victims to seek support. Meanwhile, the therapists are left to police their own treatment rooms, one locked door at a time.
