I was in a gymnasium the other day, the sort in which you find perhaps twenty exercise machines lined up, each dedicated to toning but not really strengthening a part of the body. Although the place was empty except for me, a recorded female voice said over and over, “Change stations!” followed at intervals by something like, “All right! Ready, by the numbers…One! Two!....” etc. It annoyed me. I weary of constant instruction.
It caused me to reflect on the differences between the attitudes of men and women to gymnasiums, in which I have spent considerable time over the years. Women want aerobics and a very light workout, preferably as a social hour with someone calling cadence. I thought of that horror recommended by a (female) grade-school teacher to replace competitive sports, “a cooperative group activity led by a caring adult.”
By contrast, men do not go to gyms to have a group bonding experience, but to lift serious weight in reflective solitude. They seek strength, not tone, and do not want to listen to chirpy orders. In short, the sexes do not belong in the same establishments.
This led me to think of the National Press Club in Washington, of which I was a member many years ago. It was then for men only--a masculine place, there being over the bar a Maja Nude oil painting of a voluptuous woman. Men could hoist a brew, enjoy male company, and tell war stories.
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