Cuddle Buddies Wanted
As a teenager, I had a friend (his name was Max) who was big on hugging. He’d regularly wrap his friends in bear hugs and would make us do it again if we were half-arsed about it. A Max-hug needed to be 3–5 seconds of full-torso contact.
We were maybe 14 or 15 and big on house parties on the weekends. Half a dozen of us would drink, smoke, listen to music and then fall asleep in whatever comfy spot we could find. We’d wake up crusty in the morning and wander home. It was just a small group of friends hanging out, not ‘hooking up’, but somehow Max and I became cuddle buddies.
When it came time to sleep, we’d seek each other out and spoon. It was completely non-sexual; it was just nice to sleep next to someone. Perhaps it was our age that stopped it going any further — it would still be several years before either of us lost our virginity — but we were still humans with a need for intimacy and touch.
Kids get cuddles from their mum, adults get them through intimate relationships. We were teenagers in physical no-man’s-land.
Touchy-feely, but no-sexy
Traditionally, extended families lived together in small spaces. A bed would have accommodated a family and a half, sprawled together every evening. These days touching someone — especially if they’re not a family member, and (gasp!) a member of the opposite sex — has become tangled up with sexuality. And it’s unfortunate that we’re not better at separating the two.
I’m not saying sensory and sexual don’t overlap. They do. In fact, full-body sensory experiences should probably be a core part of sex — but that doesn’t mean that all touch is sexual. Some enjoyment of the senses is purely innocent.
Unfortunately, it’s hard to even talk about taste and touch without it sounding sexual. A trickle of sand over the webbing of your fingers. The sweet taste of dripping juice from an overripe piece of fruit. The brush of satin-smooth fabric against the skin. Do we call it sensuous? Sensory? Tactile? I bet the Japanese would have a word for it.
Think of things kids do without it being weird: smelling hair, touching faces, holding hands, resting their head on someone’s shoulder. It’s pleasurable, non-sexual, physical connection. Our entire experience of the world is through our senses — it’s literally how we be alive.
So, seriously guys, sometimes a hug is really just a hug. If we view all touch as sexual, then anyone not participating in sex is missing out on physical connection.
A lesson from the snugglepuppers
Back in the 20’s young people had ‘petting parties’ (AKA snugglepupping) where they could experiment with kissing and cuddling without it leading to intercourse.
“It was not just the hedonistic, and party-obsessed flappers who were attending petting parties, but rather most young women on college campuses in America. […] The petting parties were protecting women from engaging in premarital sex just because they craved sexual intimacy.” (Source)
It was a way to get the touch they craved — before they were married, and without the risks involved with sex. At these parties, the social dynamic of the group maintained agreed boundaries.
Pre-marital virgins are less common now, but teenagers not ready for sexual relationships certainly still exist. And what about all the other pockets of society that may be missing out on enough physical connection? Single people, people in unhappy relationships, older people. Basically, anyone who doesn’t (or can’t) use sex to meet their needs for physical connection.
Haven’t we all fitted that description at times? I know I have. Sure, I can hug my family and friends, and my kids are still young enough to cuddle on the couch — but I find myself thinking back to those nights spent innocently spooning on someone’s floor.
There’s something nice about that.
Cuddle buddies wanted
Perhaps I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. Looking back now, a cuddle buddy seems like a rare and precious friendship. Are there cuddlers out there living in secret? It’s certainly not represented much in media or literature. I can only think of one book where a friendship between man and woman involved spooning — and the characters were in their eighties.
Is it something that could only exist between sexual fringe-dwellers like virgins and the elderly? Or might it provide a mainstream alternative to hook-up culture in the same way petting parties provided an alternative to early marriage? Could we accept that single people need touch without packaging it up with the baggage of sex?
Now, who’s ready for that 3–5 second, full-torso-contact hug?
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