Pexels / Ketut Subiyanto
Cuddle Parties create space for people to gather for hours of purportedly nonsexual physical touch.
First, let’s first state the obvious. "Cuddle parties" — a growing trend where people gather for hours of purportedly nonsexual physical touch — aren't for everybody.
I figured out that much when I told a coworker I’d signed up to attend one in Austin while we were there for the annual SXSW conference. The event wasn’t officially sanctioned by SXSW, but if it delivered on stress relief, I was willing to try it out.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” my coworker asked when I told him about my plans.
I'm not certifiable, but the idea of a space that promotes consent, healthy exercising of boundaries and nurturing, affectionate, nonsexual touch sounded pretty dope. So I gave it a shot.
I arrived at a large home in Northeast Austin on Sunday afternoon. After checking in and writing my name on a sticky tag, a facilitator urged the other cuddle party attendees and I to form a welcome circle.
The hour-long welcome session oriented us with the rules. It also provided exercises to help the group of 10 partygoers get comfortable with saying "yes" and "no" to various cuddle offers.
The circle was followed by what party leader Sundeep Arole — a soft-spoken, middle-aged tech professional — described as “two hours of self-directed connection.” That means attendees cuddled in groups, one-on-one or not at all. During the parties, the term “cuddling” can mean feet against feet, full-body hugs, head-rubs, spooning or just sitting near each other.
Many attendees at this party wore casual bedtime clothing, such as loose fitting cotton pajama pants, sweatshirts and the like. However, it quickly became apparent this wasn't romance time.
The ground rules laid down during the welcome circle covered what I'm sure you may be wondering by now: kissing and any heavy petting around the bikini area are completely verboten.
Eventually attendees snuggled up together in “spoon drawers,” or groups cuddling each other on a pallet of blankets on the floor. Couples — in same- and opposite-sex variations — lay with arms and legs intertwined. Participants stroked each others' hair and wrists. One middle-aged man fell asleep, his gentle snores rising above the intermittent murmuring about changing positions.
I didn't join in any of the configurations. Despite my earlier eagerness to check out the cuddle party scene, it felt suffocating to even watch.
I politely declined all cuddle offers made to me — which ranged from a foot rub to stroking my hair to being a little spoon. Arole told me that hesitation isn't uncommon for first-timers.
In case you're wondering what makes Arole qualified to lead such parties, he became certified by Cuddle Party — a Manhattan-based nonprofit that supports empowered consent, choice and nurturing touch — in 2019. The Austin resident recently began hosting biweekly events in his dedicated home studio to meet demand. Before finding the additional space, he’d only been able to host one “packed” session monthly.
Since the early 2000s, professional cuddling has transitioned from a generally misunderstood field carrying salacious undertones to a legitimate — and high-demand — service for healing trauma, according to medical journal articles.
The growth of the parties stems in part from research suggesting that hugs help decrease everyday stress, including lowering blood pressure.
New research also found that people who hug more frequently tend to have more positive moods and feel less lonely than those who embrace less.
Given that track record, it’s little surprise people are looking to find relief and connection through nonsexual, platonic touch. As many of us recover from forced isolation brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic — and as daily news cycles breed anxiety and stress — it makes sense that we'd look for new sources of relief.
That all sounds good on paper, right?
As I left the party, I realized that my heart had been pounding nearly out of my chest for the duration of the four-hour event. Apparently, everyone has different personal hangups about physical touch, and a cuddle party may be too extreme a way to discover what those are.
From now on, I may just call on my friends to fill the cuddle void.
Coming soon: SA Current Daily newsletter. We’ll send you a handful of interesting San Antonio stories every morning. Subscribe now to not miss a thing.
Follow us: Google News | NewsBreak | Instagram | Facebook | Twitter