Is there some burr of masculinity, some tiny, rough-edged scrap, that can't be pumiced, filed down or otherwise exfoliated away by the modern spa experience?
Maybe, but we sure as hell didn't find it. Consider the following exchange (and consider that it took place in a locker room, that supposed bastion of coarse male behaviour): Sinclair: So, did you like your facial?
Andy: Yeah, it was great (awkward pause). ... But she told me I've got an oily T-Bar.
Sinclair: You mean a T-Zone?
Andy: No, a T-Bar. (Another pause, while he traces a line across his brow). Apparently I've got to use a different moisturizer now.
Sinclair: Uh-huh. That's nice.
Andy: What about you? How was the Indian scalp massage?
Sinclair: It was good. Really relaxing. But I've got an extremely hot forehead.
Andy: What does that mean?
Sinclair: It means that one of my Chakras is blocked. It's like this pressure point that regulates stress. My aesthetician said it could be one of two things: I grind my teeth at night, or my life is totally out of balance. I'm going for the latter.
Andy: Jesus. Did you flirt with her, at least?
Sinclair: Not really. You?
Andy: Damn right.
This was about as virile as things got at the Millcroft Inn & Spa, a quaint countryside retreat about an hour outside Toronto.
The Millcroft says about a quarter of its clients are men, and sure enough, there is the odd guy wandering around in his terry-cloth robe, sporting the dazed look of someone who owes his wife a very big favour.
Andy and I, however, were the only guys spa-ing together, and therein lies the real rub: It's one thing to grab a beer and chicken wings before the big game; it's quite another to dine together in the romantic environs of the Millcroft.
Wolfgang Stichnothe, the inn's proprietor, didn't exactly help matters by giving us the "best seat in the house." Best if you're popping the question, maybe. Better still if you're hoping to get lucky. We looked on in horror as we were shown where we would be sitting: Just off the main dining room, the small, glass-enclosed nook overhangs a meandering river. Our table occupied a patch of prime real estate, positioned with a perfect view of a backlit waterfall.
"This is what we call the 'Power Pod,'ƒ|" Wolfgang explained in his thick German accent, the hint of a smile forming. "A lot of powerful people sit here. A lot of couples on important occasions. This is a place where a lot of promises are made, big commitments ..."
Wow. Andy and I quickly made a vow of our own: After sitting through the four-hour tasting menu — a wonderfully prepared $400 feast — we would quickly retire to his room for a much-needed bracer. And so what if it was a bottle of Alsatian riesling, served alongside a crackling fire? At least we were watching the basketball game.
It should be made explicit here that we did have separate sleeping quarters, notwithstanding what a handful of guests and cleaning staff may have believed. Sure, Andy was seen exiting my room at 8 the next morning. But that's only because he managed to break his toilet, and desperately required my facilities. Honest.
If I could make one recommendation to the man who is spa-curious, it would be this: Put aside your fears and spring for the gentleman's pedicure. Just one hard-and-fast rule to add to Andy's list: When you sit on that chair and put your feet up, make sure to have underwear beneath your robe.
The Millcroft Inn & Spa: 55 John St., Alton-Caledon, Ont.; 1-800-383-3976; millcroft.com. Spa Getaway Packages, including two nights' accommodation with breakfast, one dinner for two and a $100 spa credit, start at $215 a person per night.
