Confessions of a male spa virgin

Real men don’t go to spas. Real men go to the pub. Or go to chop wood. Or go to work on cars, where there are heavy tools, metallic noises and real oil that smells like robot testosterone.

That, at least, was what I thought before I read up for this "man in a spa" story. Men now make up a third of all spa goers, according to the International Spa Association. Spas the world over now have menus dedicated to men. And at the Four Seasons Hotel Hong Kong men make up nearly half the spa's customers. 

I wanted to find out exactly what the appeal was, so I guinea-pigged myself out to the Four Seasons Spa for a man's eye view of the world of mud facials, lavender aromas and cucumber eye masks. 

Much pain and much to gain with a deep pressure massage.

The pre-treat

"We do recommend that all our customers are in a state of undress when they use our Vitality Lounge," said Helen Green, the director at the Four Seasons Spa, as we sat for a pre-treatment chat.

The Vitality Lounge is where you’re meant to spend an hour chilling out before you surrender your body to the ladies in white coats.

"You mean naked?"

"Yes, naked. But don’t worry it’s a male-only environment."

She seemed to think being naked in a room full of other naked men is preferable to being naked in a room full of naked women. I let it pass. I had other questions. One was a lingering concern about being oiled up by an exotic beauty in a warm, scent-filled room while I wear nothing but a towel. "So what about, you know, the potential arousal issue," I stammered out.

"Oh of course it can happen," said Greene frankly. "But if it does just ignore it, and realize that the therapists have been doing this for years. Besides, you spend the first half hour on your front so by the time you turn over you’re very relaxed."

Not exactly comforted, I am escorted by a soft spoken Nepalese man called Char, into a den of soft lighting and immaculately laid out toiletries. This is the Four Seasons Spa's Vitality Lounge, a watery temple to the god of stress reduction. There's a sauna (hot, choking, I last 25 seconds), a steam room (minty and humid) and a vitality pool (bubbly and ticklish). But before I can say "Ooh that's good," Char appears to lead me to my treatment. 

Always good to chill out with a bowl of rocks.

The body scrub

My first therapist was Maria, not quite the exotic beauty I had been fearing but a happy, chatty, matronly Filipina, who, judging by the size of her forearms, has been wringing the hell out of knotted muscles for many years.

She got stuck into the Jatamansi Scrub, designed specifically for men, it said in the brochure, to “melt away stress, restoring vitality and positive energy.” Immediately it felt like the Sandman was giving me a rubdown. Coarse grains of what I am later told is Himalayan salt appeared to be ridding me of my first six layers of skin. “Oh you have very sensitive skin,” Maria crooned. “You go red straight away.” You think? I just hoped I wouldn't start bleeding.

But after the initial shock, it actually became quite enjoyable. In the end I felt like a puppy in Maria’s hands, getting scratched where I didn't even know I itched.

After a quick steam to absorb the products it was on to the massage.

The deep pressure massage

Now this I was actually looking forward to. My muscles are tense and my posture bad. I need this. A lip-smacking citrus scent filled the room as Maria prepared the oils. She slid her thumbs firmly down my spine and I felt the tension being squeezed away. 

Suddenly she found a spot of pure pain near my shoulder. And she was poking it. Many times. The pain was intense. This was not relaxing. I regretted ticking the box for "firm" under "massage strength" on the form. But being a real man I muffled any squeals (ok one or two may have slipped out) and resolved not to say anything. 

Then she found another pain spot in exactly the same place on the opposite side. More silent squeals. She moved to the legs, and I don’t know what she was doing, or why she was doing it, but the pain here was even worse. If I didn't hurt so much I would have laughed, as the hilarity of this predicament hit home.

Finally, after nearly an hour, Maria the Destroyer eased up and she put in some long strokes up and down my legs. Compared to the agony of before, this simplest of moves was pure bliss. Her fingertips did stray pretty close to the family essentials, but there was not so much as a quiver, and if there was it would have been out of sheer terror rather than anything sexual. 

She told me afterwards that the massage was painful because my muscles were very tight. No, I think it was painful because you were pummeling the crap out of me. I want to say.

Looks girlie, feels girlie, but makes wonderfully supple skin.

The facial

Maria was replaced by Iris, a serene, gentle, spiritual breeze of a woman, and the final part of this trilogy of treats began.

Despite being the longest of the treatments, the Rainforest Rejuvenating Facial passed the quickest. I drifted in and out of consciousness, because although Maria’s massage was excruciating, it left me in as deep a state of calm as I've been in for many months.

Iris went through at least half a dozen different applications of creams, lotions, moisturizers, and a face mask. She massaged my face and pressed bags of heated Himalayan salt (yes, that stuff again, this time much agreeably applied) into the soles of my feet. 

Then with a quick wipe down and a "thank you sir" it was all over. How did I feel? Pretty damn amazing, actually. Best of all I was still a real man. I just happened to have incredibly silky skin.

Jatamansi Scrub: 45 minutes, HK$650 + 10 per cent; Deep Pressure Massage: 1 hr, HK$950 + 10 per cent; Rainforest Rejuvenating Facial: 1 hr 15 mins, HK$1,150 + 10 per cent.

Four Seasons Spa, Hong Kong, 8 Finance Street, Central, tel +852 3196 8888 www.fourseasons.com/hongkong