First things first. For those of you who have not met me, I'm big. Pushing 6' 3” and 20 odd stone, I was a massive rugby player and martial artist in my younger days. Not exactly a typical candidate for a health spa then, you might imagine.
But to a health spa I did go and an interesting experience it was. Sorry, went a bit Yoda on you then.
Anyway, at first I thought I'd taken a wrong turn and ended up at the Mental Asylum wing from Prisoner: Cell Block H. As I drove up the long country road to the old secluded building and parked the car, there were dispersed groups of plump, middle aged women roaming around outside, wearing only dressing gowns and glazed expressions. The inside continued this trend: dozens more clucking, be-slippered zombies, shuffling their way around after white jacketed professionals down long, carpeted hallways, entering 'treatment' rooms. Scary stuff...
But no, I had to shake these thoughts from my head. I was here to keep my girlfriend company, this was her birthday treat after all. Whilst she was being pampered, I would just be chilling by the pool, maybe taking a bike ride. Or so I thought. Unbeknownst to me, my better half had booked me in for 'the works'. I was to be rubbed, prodded, plucked and even, it turns out, caked in mud and steamed for twenty minutes, like some kind of child's bakery attempt!
I'd had a few comments from colleagues in the run up to this day: Am I a Metrosexual, one asked. Another offered to lend me her boyfriend's Speedos. To be honest, I probably shared the same preconceptions. But I went in there with an open mind and I have to say, at the expense of my macho reputation (yeah right): I really enjoyed it all.
Speaking to my treatment lady on the day, whilst she was working me over, produced a few interesting facts: Sometimes there are entire days when you won't see a bloke in there. But when you do, presumably it's all dapper, effeminate types, I asked. Nope, just husbands and boyfriends with their female counterparts.
I was starting to feel in tune with the place. There is no 'type' of male that goes to health spas, it was all sorts. It's OK for a man to have manicures and pedicures, isn't it? This was great, I felt like a modern man. We are not 'Metrosexuals' we just acknowledge the need to look after our bodies- there's nothing 'gay' about that. Awesome. I wanted to know if there were more of us out there, maybe we could start some sort of movement. So I asked my therapist if men she knew came to the spa: “Oh no!” she shrieked in dismissal. “My dad and boyfriend would never come here in a million years!”
Hey ho- viva la revolucion!
Steff.
