Touch was what I was missing
There is a difference between being comfortable alone and not wanting to be touched. I can enjoy my own space, my own schedule, and the peace of having nobody else to answer to, and still miss having a woman close to me.
That was what led me to try platonic cuddling.
At 60, after three divorces and some disappointing experiences with dating, I wasn't looking to jump into another relationship. But I still wanted physical closeness. Holding someone. Being held. Having a little time when that part of my life didn't feel quite so empty.
A cuddling session seemed like a straightforward way to experience that. There were boundaries and no expectation that it would become a relationship. After meeting several women through the site, I learned more about what that arrangement could offer and what I hoped it might mean. The names here have been changed.
I was nervous before the first session. Would it be weird? Would I get turned on? Would it feel wrong to pay someone to hold me?
Anna was 25, which added to my uncertainty, but she made it easy. She gave me a hug, we sat on the sofa and talked briefly, and then we went to my bedroom and lay on top of the blanket, fully clothed. She snuggled close, wrapped her legs around me, and rested her head on my chest. We talked and gently touched each other's backs and arms.
It felt intimate. Yes, I was turned on. She was pretty, smelled good, and was physically affectionate. But knowing this was not a sexual encounter helped me respect the boundaries and enjoy what we were doing.
What was supposed to be two hours became four. We met again, and I started interpreting parts of our time together as signs that she liked me beyond being a client. She stayed longer than scheduled, we shared personal stories and things from our phones, and the way she held me felt like something I associated with a lover.
Then she disappeared for seven months.
When she eventually answered a text, she told me she'd had a traumatic experience with another cuddler and had withdrawn from the site. She said I was the one person from there she felt safe and comfortable enough with to try again. Of course, that made me feel we had some kind of connection.
We got together one last time. She slept through much of the session and seemed distant to me. Afterward, I didn't hear from her again.
I don't know what changed for her or whether I misunderstood our earlier connection. But I had started hoping her closeness meant something beyond the time I was paying for. When she disappeared, I was left with that hope and no clear answer.
The other experiences were different, but none were bad. Amy was friendly and bubbly, and knowing she had a partner helped me keep my expectations firmly platonic. Brianna's sessions felt more structured, with a timer running and conversation that sometimes seemed scripted. Erin, the most recent, was someone I had quite a bit in common with. She listened, we talked, and two hours became three. I enjoyed being close to her, and she invited me to look her up if I visited her city again.
I'm generally more attracted to younger women, and that was part of Anna's appeal for me. But my experiences with the others also showed me that how comfortable I felt with someone mattered, too.
So, was touch what I was missing? Yes. But with Anna, at least, I also found myself wanting to feel personally wanted beyond the appointment.
After every session, I felt satisfied. For a while, I forgot about the money and simply enjoyed having met that need to touch, hold, and connect with a woman.
Some people have asked whether a hug would do the same thing. For me, it doesn't. A brief embrace doesn't give me the same chance to settle in, relax, and enjoy being close to someone. Those hours together met a need that an ordinary hug hasn't.
But the relief fades, sometimes quickly. After seeing Erin, I felt pretty good for about a week, helped along by being busy with work and other projects. This past week, though, I've wanted that closeness again.
I still don't want someone here 24/7. I don't want to combine households or take on everything that comes with that. But having someone local who regularly wanted to spend time holding each other would mean a lot to me. Sex is a separate need, and I've written elsewhere about how I handle that.
As it stands, paid cuddling feels like an expensive aspirin. The relief is real, and I don't regret experiencing it. But I can't afford to reach for it every time the need returns.
What I hope to find is someone who wants that same closeness, with whom the benefit and desire to be there are mutual. Until then, I'm learning to live with the stretches between sessions. I enjoy my life alone. I just wish being held were a more regular part of it.