We are getting into the golden hour of Friday afternoon. Late-winter sun streams through the window as I work, the kids are still at school and, after a lot of indecision on her part, the cat is finally outside. My laptop, personal effects and favourite mug are strewn across the kitchen table. The house – and all its glorious silence – is mine.

Then the front door crashes open. My partner is back from the gym and my train of thought comes clattering to a halt, like the various bags and stuff that I can hear being thrown on the floor. After a few more minutes of stomping and rattling, she saunters into my makeshift workspace, a grin on her face.

“Guess how much can I deadlift,” she beams. “Eighty-five kilos.”

Is that impressive? It sounds impressive – it is more than I weigh, after all. The truth is that I don’t actually know what a deadlift is.

“That’s very impressive,” confirms Claire Sanderson, editor-in-chief of Women’s Health UK. “A deadlift is one of the hardest compound moves. It recruits so many muscles at once – your hamstrings, glutes, hips, core, arms. It also requires good grip strength.” I am still none the wiser. Sanderson says she used to deadlift 100kg, although she’s now on about 75kg. “So, your partner is doing better than me,” she says.

Full disclosure: I used to work for Women’s Health, so I really should know what a deadlift is. Since my time there, however, the fitness industry has moved on. Flexed, even. “There’s no question that women’s attitudes to fitness have changed enormously over the past 10 years,” Sanderson says. “Six to seven years ago, the main priority for women was to burn calories and lose weight. Goals, and reasons to do exercise, have moved more towards being strong and healthy, both physically and mentally, instead of purely aesthetics.”

So, rather than focus purely on weight loss, women’s health is now typically seen as a holistic package. And weight training is a growing part of this – maintaining muscle mass is especially important in middle age as we lose bone density, which makes me think I really should get started. As is mental health. “There was a study last year that suggested women reap benefit more than men when it comes to exercise and cognitive health,” Sanderson adds, possibly just to rub it in.

Wider culture, too, is muscling in. Smart, strong women are now a fixture in Marvel adventures (see She-Hulk: Attorney At Law). And, whereas in years gone by, my partner and her friends might have gone to see the latest romcom, last year, her personal trainer’s entire roster of clients went out en masse to see Ms Viola Davis kick ass in The Woman King. (I fear for any male cinema attendants on popcorn duty that night.)

But – and I can almost hear the words, “Why do you always have to make this about you?” as I write this – where does this leave men? If you are a man in even the most enlightened of heteronormative households, there are certain jobs that are left to you. Reaching things on higher shelves, typically. Putting the bins out, if you’re unlucky, like me. Unscrewing jars, definitely. But when your other half can literally pick you up, does she still need you every time she wants a pickle? However, for some men, the anxiety caused by shifting gender roles goes even deeper.

“Weightlifting has historically been seen as a masculine activity, and the gym floor as a male space,” says Dr Natalia Petrzela, historian and author of Fit Nation: The Gains And Pains Of America’s Exercise Obsession. “That’s in contrast with the enclosed studios where yoga, Pilates and dance take place, which have historically been more female. I absolutely think that women unapologetically encroaching on this historically male space – and in order to build their strength for no one but themselves – can be a trigger for some guys.”

Women now account for more than half (54 per cent) of gym memberships in the UK. And while paying the fees does not necessarily mean they use the facilities (hello, new year resolutions), Sport England reported that female gym attendance was at an all-time high before Covid arrived in 2020. It is not, however, always an enjoyable experience for many of them, and that’s not wholly down to leg day. According to a 2021 survey, 76 per cent of women have felt uncomfortable while exercising in a public space, while the same percentage felt stared at. A separate survey found that more than 56 per cent of female gym users had been harassed while working out.

These are not just sexualised advances, either. Yet another survey suggested that more than 76 per cent of women had received unsolicited advice – mansplaining – while using gym equipment. Not for the first time, many women feel like they need to change their behaviour just to occupy the same space as men. So, yes, this really is about people like me.

“One option women have is to find out the quieter times at their gym, either by asking at reception, or some venues now have apps that show how busy different time slots are,” Sanderson says. Another is to call out antisocial activities. As The Guardian recently reported, TikTok is increasingly being used as a forum to voice such concerns, with hashtags such as #gymweirdos amassing millions of views.

Inevitably, it being 2023, this backlash has led to a backlash, with influencers such as Mr Joey Swoll, who brands himself “CEO of gym positivity”, highlighting what they call the “fake narrative” of men unfairly labelled as “creepers”. This has led to their followers piling on to the women making the accusations, leading, in turn, to a negative feedback loop when we should be focusing on our circuits.

Against that background, the reported 69 per cent spike in web searches for women-only gyms, such as the one my partner attends, over the past year makes sense. A further 31 per cent of women surveyed by personal training platform OriGym said women-only spaces would make them feel safer and more comfortable.

“It’s about empowerment,” Sanderson says of this renewed interest. “But women-only gyms also offer a place for women to feel part of a community.” To add to that, the gym equipment can better reflect the clientele. As well as sharing a gym with men, women typically have to use weight grips geared towards men, too.

In the past, according to Petrzela, women-only gyms were the norm, although for different reasons. “Well into the 1970s, gyms would have ‘ladies’ days’ or even be completely sex-segregated facilities,” she says. “It was inappropriate for men and women to engage in the intimate activity of exercise in close proximity to one another. An important outlier in this rationale were men’s gyms that were places for gay men to find community when homophobia was more pronounced.”

As attitudes towards modesty relaxed, the need for segregation fell away. “Interestingly, for a time in the 1980s, many of the flashiest health clubs implicitly advertised themselves as the new singles bars,” Petrzela says. (Please do not take this concept into your modern-day local fitness centre.)

“The more informed man realises it’s completely unacceptable to ogle women or come on to them,” Sanderson says. “That type of behaviour is not accepted today and I see it a lot less in gyms now. From my experience, improvements are being made. I see more of a respect for women lifting heavy weights, proudly looking strong. I think CrossFit, as well as some credible social media influencers, have somewhat normalised that stronger body image for women.”

However, Sanderson says there are, appropriately, still gains to be made. “There have been positive changes compared to, say, a decade ago, but there’s no getting away from the challenges still there,” she says. “A lot of our readers tell us they feel very self-conscious in the gym and we’re here to try to help them empower themselves. The bottom line is that men should treat women exactly as they do men in the gym.”

There are also other changes that my better, stronger half would like to see. “Wipe down your bench,” she says, complaining about other gym users – not just men – who leave behind their “ass sweat”.

“It is important for men to be mindful of the fact that most women on the weight floor want to focus on their workout, and that their presence is not a spectacle or an invitation to engagement,” Petrzela says. “But I do think there is room for meaningful, mutual social interaction at the gym, especially as we emerge from the pandemic. We should do our best to encourage positive human connection in what, after all, is a space we are all lucky to share.”

In the spirit of sharing, my partner recently revealed that, in the weeks since I began writing this, she’s got her deadlift up to 90kg. Occasionally, she’ll still ask me to open a jar. And I am happy for the validation.