Prologue
A love letter to bathhouses
Why would anyone create a wellness coffee table book about bathhouses—gay men’s bathhouses, to be more specific?
Well, at the age of 51, “single” and sexually active, I’m beginning to recognize just how deeply bathhouse stories and experiences are woven into the fabric of my sexual life.
In fact, when I truly pause and reflect, I’m left in awe that these places actually exist.
There are places where I can simply walk through a door, be handed a towel and a key, and enter a world unlike the one outside. Quiet. Dark. Mysterious. Sometimes playful. Sometimes deeply human. And the opportunity to step into these spaces exists seven days a week.
Now living in Florida, my proximity to said bathhouses has widened considerably.
But more about that later.
So how exactly do wellness and bathhouses line up?
I’m sure someone could write an entire book about their own destruction and the role gay men’s bathhouses played in it. Much like an alcoholic could tell a story of torment, excess and loss.
But contrast is possible.
A lover of wine could create a beautiful coffee table book devoted to vineyards, vintages and the romantic notes that come together to create the perfect glass.
Perhaps this is where I should tell you: I’ve seen both sides.
The ruin and the intrigue.
Maybe that’s precisely why I’ve suddenly felt inspired to create this love letter to bathhouses.
If these places had never existed, perhaps I wouldn’t know what I was missing.
But they do exist.
Like kernels of popcorn scattered across pockets of the world, waiting to be discovered.
And having experienced these quiet, dark, mysterious—and, yes, sometimes wellness-oriented—spaces, I can say with certainty:
My kernel has popped more than once.
I’ve had countless savory and salty experiences in gay bathhouses around the world. Experiences good enough that I’ve gone back for more.
Just like that bucket of popcorn at the theater.
There’s something about the right blend of intrigue, deliciousness, saltiness and satisfaction—leaving you somehow satisfied and yet still a little insatiable.
What would we do without movie-theater popcorn and bathhouses?
Fortunately, I don’t have to answer that question.
They exist.
And within these pages, you’ll find my love letter to the spaces themselves.
Hopefully you will also hear from some other men who frequent them.
In addition to the people who own and operate them, and to the fellas behind the counter who hand us our towels, maintain the rooms, clean up after us, buzz us through the door and quietly keep these institutions alive.
If they will talk to me.
This isn’t meant to be an argument that bathhouses are inherently good or bad.
It’s an invitation to look at them.
To remember them.
To understand what they have meant—and continue to mean—to generations of gay, bi and queer men.
And, perhaps, to consider the possibility that wellness doesn’t always happen in daylight. Sometimes it happens on the other side of that threshold.
In these spaces we can experience stillness, remembering, letting go, knowing, expansion and giving. We can also experience becoming.
So grab your towel, your slides and your key.
You’re about to be buzzed in.
What follows are my deliciously true and arousing reflections on bathhouses, the experiences I’ve carried out with me—and my enduring gratitude that these strange, mysterious and distinctly queer spaces still exist.
Warmly,
Chad Putman, MSW
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