I’be booked the day off work, and today was meant to be my third attempt at enjoying the sauna properly. The last two times, I didn’t relax – didn’t play – just sat there like a bewildered monk, wondering what everyone else seemed to be doing so effortlessly.

This time I wanted to get it right. I’d even promised myself a little gin and tonic from the bar – just the one – to take the edge off and help me loosen up a bit.

But, of course, life had other plans. I’ve just ordered an STI test kit after hearing that a recent playmate has Chlamydia. My bum’s a bit itchy, and now I can’t tell whether it’s irritation, imagination, or divine retribution.

So I’m still going to the sauna, but I’m grounded. Steam only. No play, no flirtation, no drink — just coffee. Which feels a bit like going to a theme park and staying on the bench while everyone else rides the rollercoaster.

Maybe it’s for the best. I can still enjoy the heat, the hiss of steam, the smell of eucalyptus, and the feeling of my body softening after a long, tense week. Maybe I’ll even manage to relax this time – really relax – without needing anyone else to make it happen.

There’s a whole quiet etiquette to these places, anyway – a kind of choreography. Towel on means no thanks; towel off means open to possibilities. Prolonged eye contact is a conversation starter, but if you keep your gaze soft and brief, it’s understood that you’re just enjoying the view. If someone sits beside you, a polite nod is enough. And if someone gets a bit too bold, well – there’s always a smile and a gentle, “Not today, love – I’m on a health timeout”.

So that’s the plan: a little sweat, a little solitude

Chastity, but on a spa day.