We’ve been together for seven years, so we’ve considered traditional couples’ massages before. (You know, the kind where you lie side by side in the same room while you each drift off into your own personal nirvana.) But when we spend time together, we want to spend it, well, together. The solution: the Art of Touch, a signature couples’ treatment at Spa Space (161 N. Canal St. 312-466-9585). For $150, we got 90 minutes of personalized, hands-on instruction in massage techniques–and a couple of pretty good massages. Afterward, we compared notes.
HE SAYS …
There are some things in this world that just aren’t designed for guys. For example: new age music, scented candles and cucumber water. On a recent Sunday, due to a scheduling catastrophe, I experienced all three in lieu of sitting on my couch and watching the Bears win the NFC Championship.
The receptionist who greeted us when we entered Spa Space for our Art of Touch treatment must have noticed my pained look. Kindly, she reassured me that I’d enjoy the class and then poured me some cucumber water.
Unfortunate timing aside, she was right: The session was very enjoyable. The facilities were top-notch, our instructor was patient, and we got two relaxing 45-minute massages out of the deal. But the best part about the class is that it ensures that after you spend a long day hunched over a computer, your significant other will know how to get the muscles in your neck functioning again. And you’ll know how to reciprocate: Even fumbling amateurs can learn to give the kind of foot rub that would get anyone thrown out of a window by Marsellus Wallace, a la “Pulp Fiction.”
For all its virtues, the Art of Touch probably isn’t first-date material. The class is tasteful and professional, and there are well-placed sheets and bathrobes to preserve decorum, but you’re otherwise in your birthday suit. Plus, there are a couple of moves designed to target what our instructor delicately described as “the glute area.”
Though I don’t typically feel at home in a spa, Spa Space is inclusive, marketing several services to the fellas, including a three-and-a-half-hour massage-and-facial marathon called Deep Space for Men and the oddly titled “back facial.” And most important–at least on game day–the guy’s changing area is outfitted with a TV. So after our lesson I could kick back in my robe in a big comfy chair and catch the final score. Now that’s relaxation.
SHE SAYS …
Let’s just get this out of the way: Yes, I’ve been known to procrastinate. And by the time I called to schedule an appointment, our options were limited. In fact, the only time available was at 3:30 p.m. on a Sunday. As luck would have it, this also was precisely an hour-and-a-half into the NFC Championship game.
When we arrived, the receptionist must have sensed that one of us was a bit apprehensive, because she made a point to smile reassuringly and coo, “You’re going to luurve it. It’s great.” Then we were whisked off to separate changing rooms.
After we’d changed into white robes and slippers, we rendezvoused in the foyer. It was time to learn the Art of Touch.
Our massage therapist escorted us to an upstairs room with one massage table and asked who was going first. Since I’m usually half asleep after a good massage, I volunteered for the second shift on the table.
Now, during a solo massage, this would have been when the therapist discretely ducks out so you can strip down. But there were three of us, and since two of us share a bed on a regular basis, I figured one of us might be able to stick around.
Our therapist was all about proper protocol, however.
“We will step out for a moment,” she said, with a nod in my direction.
And so we did.
When we returned, we positioned ourselves on opposite sides of the table so we could massage simultaneously, and so I could mimic her strokes. We started with the basics–stance and posture–before moving on to some light introductory strokes, called effleurage. After about 10 minutes, we got to the real work. This involved friction techniques and repeated application of a simple move our therapist called the “Pac-Man” (imagine gobbling up little dots and ghosts between your forefinger and your thumb as you work your way across your partner’s shoulders). We also learned a few other useful tricks such as “hacking,” a percussive technique that’s pretty much what it sounds like.
This might seem like a lot of caressing and rubbing and touching for your average group of three–or trois, as they say in France–and it was. But it was all very clinical and professional. A move our therapist called the “tush squoosh” was about as kinky as it got. And even that, as you might guess from the name, wasn’t really kinky at all. As it turns out, the tush squoosh is a highly effective way to relieve lower-back tension.
Before I knew it, it was my turn to relax. This time, we all knew the drill. Everyone else cleared out so I could disrobe. A minute later, they returned, and I had four hands working me over. It didn’t occur to me until I was on the receiving end, but this is perhaps the best aspect of the Art of Touch treatment: Four hands are far, far better than two.
Like most massages, it was over much too fast. But now that we know how to use the techniques at home, it’s just a matter of setting aside some time to try them out. Hey, maybe we’ll even give it a try on Sunday. I’m thinking 5:25 p.m. …
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kpratt@tribune.com
