Spa Daze!

My best mate Monica showed me a brochure for a very expensive spa in Central London. I don’t fancy it, but I didn’t tell her that as she was so excited. I have no intention of paying £250 to wear someone else’s over sized towelling bath robe, and to let some skinny chic throw hot stones at me or rub oils into my scalp.

The salon is based on the smells and texture of Bali and to be honest it would be cheaper to go actually go to Bali.
I have never really been a big fan of the Spa, I hate the fact you have get undressed in a wee bamboo sheeted room and let some demented female pummel your back. You then leave the place and hit the streets with a greasy back and a sticky scalp, all whilst smelling of bergamot.

It’s a big con and men don’t fall for it for one real reason – a woman rubbing their naked skin is foreplay to them.

They fail to grasp the nature of stimulated lymph nodes and end up with an unwanted embarrassing erection whilst a young sexy female is pouring warm oil over their torso and I don’t blame them.

Men aren’t used to being naked and getting stroked without some sort of sexual payoff at the end of it. There is a reason that most brothels are based in massage parlours!

I sometimes feel some women like a warm near naked massage as some form of human contact, maybe they need to feel touched. Although the premise isn’t actually erotic it does fulfil some emptiness in their sexual lives somewhere.

I am not spending cash on a spa, I am going to ask my husband to massage me and if he gets horny and wants sex as we do this…then that’s a result in my books. At least his bathrobe is clean and I can fall asleep straight afterwards!