Because I’m a Harrogatonian, it will surprise no one to hear I go to the spa, quite often. (Purely medicinal, obviously.)
This spa sees a mix of locals and holidaymakers – the latter usually couples, tiptoeing into the steam-filled world of silence, towel rules, and hidden Jacuzzis.
From my usual spot — horizontal, and often asleep – I’ve seen hundreds of these first-timers arrive. And I’ve noticed something:
In 90% of couples, the woman’s in charge.
She picks the lounger, finds the steam room, plans the sequence. The man trails behind, compliant, like he’s wandered into the wrong place and is too polite to object.
Maybe the spa is a “female domain.” Or maybe, as the old narratives unravel, it’s women who more often take the social lead – especially in unfamiliar settings.
In the spa’s hush – no phones (in theory), little chatter – you start to see things clearly.
