The Case for Doing Nothing Together

When was the last time you sat in a room full of people and nobody was performing?

Not networking. Not working out next to strangers with headphones in. Not posting about brunch. Just… being in the same space, sharing the same experience, without any pressure to be interesting or productive or “on.”

For most of us, it’s been a while. Maybe a very long while.

The Third Place Is Dying (And We All Feel It)

In 1989, sociologist Ray Oldenburg wrote about “third places,” the spaces that aren’t home and aren’t work where communities actually form. Coffee shops, barbershops, pubs, public squares. Places where you could show up, be yourself, and run into people you know or don’t know yet.

Those spaces are disappearing. Coffee shops are now laptop farms. Bars are expensive and loud. Gyms are headphone zones where eye contact feels aggressive. Coworking spaces are just… more work. And the pandemic accelerated what was already happening: we retreated into our homes, our screens, our algorithmically curated bubbles.

The Surgeon General declared loneliness an epidemic in 2023. Nearly half of American adults report feeling lonely. Young people aged 15-24 have 70% less in-person social interaction than they did two decades ago.¹ We have more ways to connect than ever and feel more isolated than ever.

Something is missing. And it’s not another app.

Why Bars, Gyms, and Spas Don’t Fill the Gap

Let’s be honest about what these spaces actually offer.

Bars require alcohol as a social lubricant. The conversations are loud and surface-level. You leave dehydrated and often feeling worse than when you arrived. There’s a reason the sober-curious movement is growing: people want social spaces that don’t demand a drink in hand.

Gyms are technically shared spaces, but the culture is individual. You’re focused on your workout, your playlist, your mirror. Talking to someone mid-set feels like a violation. The gym is a parallel experience, not a communal one.

Spas are closer to what people actually crave, but they miss something fundamental. A spa pampers you in isolation. You’re in a private room, maybe with one other person. The experience is transactional: you pay, you receive a service, you leave. It’s relaxing, sure. But have you ever left a spa feeling relaxed yet still somehow lonely? That’s the gap.

Spas sell relaxation. Bathhouses offer restoration in community. The difference sounds subtle, but it changes everything.

The Bathhouse Experience vs. The Spa Experience

	Spa	Bathhouse
Setting	Private rooms, individual treatments	Shared thermal spaces, communal areas
Social dynamic	Solo or couples	Strangers becoming neighbors
Core offer	Pampering, services performed on you	Active participation in heat, cold, rest
Phone policy	Maybe discouraged	Not allowed in thermal areas
Duration	Appointment-based (60-90 min)	Stay as long as you want
Vibe	Luxury, exclusivity	Ritual, accessibility, presence
How you leave	Relaxed	Restored, connected, alive

This isn’t about one being better than the other. They serve different needs. But the need that’s going unmet right now, the need for genuine, low-pressure human connection in a restorative setting, that’s what bathhouse culture addresses.

A Tradition as Old as Civilization

Communal bathing isn’t new. It’s one of the oldest forms of social infrastructure on the planet.

Finnish saunas have been central to community life for over 2,000 years. In Finland, the sauna is where deals are made, disputes are settled, and silence is shared without awkwardness. There’s a Finnish saying: “In the sauna, all are equal.”

Roman thermae were the social centers of ancient cities. Citizens of every class gathered to bathe, exercise, debate, and connect. The baths were public infrastructure, funded by the state, because Romans understood that community wellness was a civic good.

Korean jjimjilbangs are multi-room bathhouses where families and friends spend entire days. You eat, nap, soak, sweat, and socialize. They’re open 24 hours and cost less than a movie ticket.

Turkish hammams combine bathing with ritual. The process of washing, steaming, and being scrubbed is both deeply personal and inherently communal. Hammams have been gathering places for centuries.

Japanese onsen and Russian banyas follow similar patterns. Different cultures, different climates, different rituals, but the same core insight: when you put people in warm water or hot rooms together, walls come down. Pretense melts. Connection happens naturally.

What’s remarkable isn’t how varied these traditions are. It’s how universal the underlying idea is. Nearly every culture on earth figured out that heat and water and shared space create the conditions for genuine human connection.

Then, in America, we somehow forgot.

What Happens When You Remove Phones and Add Heat

Here’s what we’ve observed at Pyre, over and over:

People walk in stressed, guarded, checked-out. They put their phone in a locker. They sit in the sauna. At first, it’s quiet. People are adjusting, settling in. Then someone makes a comment about the heat. Someone else laughs. A conversation starts. Not because anyone forced it, but because the conditions are right.

Heat has a way of stripping away pretense. When you’re sweating in a towel, there’s nothing to perform. No outfit signaling your status. No screen to hide behind. You’re just a person in a room with other people, sharing an experience.

And the cold plunge? That’s where strangers become friends. There’s something about watching someone face the cold, about cheering them on or just catching their eye afterward, that creates an instant bond. Shared discomfort is one of the fastest routes to genuine connection.

The Social Wellness Boom of 2026

We’re not the only ones seeing this. Across the country, social wellness clubs are opening at a remarkable pace. Bathhouses, contrast therapy studios, communal recovery spaces. The industry is booming because it’s meeting a need that’s been building for years.²

These spaces are becoming the new third places, not because of clever marketing, but because they actually solve the problem. They give people a reason to put down their phones, show up in person, and be present with other humans in a way that feels good and actually makes you healthier.

It’s the opposite of a bar. It’s the evolution of a spa. And it’s exactly what this moment in history calls for.

Pyre: Richmond’s Answer

We built Pyre because Richmond deserves a third place that isn’t centered on drinking or spending. A place where a software engineer and a nurse and a retired teacher can sit in the same sauna and have a real conversation, or not talk at all, and both options are perfectly fine.

One of our members put it best: “It is like going to a bar for healthy people.”

That’s exactly the idea.

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Come Do Nothing With Us

Bring a friend. Or come alone and leave with new ones. No experience necessary.

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References

Footnotes

1. U.S. Surgeon General. (2023). Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. ↩

2. BeautyMatter. (2025). Inside the Boom of Social Wellness Clubs. BeautyMatter. ↩