This term has been mentioned in many different contexts, but typically I read about it through the lens of psychology—it is mainly used to describe the human ache for physical contact with another person. Even prior to the pandemic, loneliness was an epidemic. I think the COVID crisis just compounded a state of being that already existed. Obviously now we are all affected by aspects of this, regardless of our circumstances, and there are more severe ramifications to the current lack of physical contact and intimacy. I started this work pre-pandemic—my research began in 2015.

You could also ask: is paid sex even sex? I guess I’m programmed to think that there’s a difference between authentic intimacy and performed intimacy, but in reality it’s not so clear. Intimacy is subjective and can be performed: it might be very real for the one it’s being performed for and not for the other, or both, or neither. In all the different industries and service economies I’ve been researching, intimacy manifests itself very differently—it’s very different within the Cuddle community than, for instance, the various rental opportunities available in Japan. Regarding loneliness being synonymous with lack of physical contact: they are not the same thing, but one is profoundly and fundamentally affected by the other whether we are conscious of it or not.

Early in my career, I made a series called Constructed Family Portraits where I solicited strangers—predominantly sourced from the Internet or through direct observation—to come and meet me in a rented hotel room and perform as a family. These people had no relationship with one another, yet they knew how to adapt and perform according to the specific paradigm of what a family looks like or appears to be, at least in this part of the world. I wanted to see how easy it would be to fake one of these icons, to recreate one of these idealized realities without any of the authenticity.

Ten years later I learnt about family rental agencies in Japan. I spent several weeks in Tokyo interviewing some of the founding performers in order to learn more. These roles can last any-where from a few hours to several years, and while many of the rentals serve to satisfy specific Japanese social protocols, they often serve a simpler, more personal craving for intimacy. For example, there was one older woman who performed for years as a grandmother to an obviously fictional grandson. But to her fictional grandson, she was his very real grandmother.

I think it varies. In some cases, I believe authentic intimacy and connection were experienced, while other times the service was used to fulfill an outwardly cultural or societal necessity like constructing the appearance of a whole and happy family. But there’s so much more to it than that, as I’m learning. What’s interesting to me is how the industry is growing. When I began my research in 2015, there were only a handful of rental agencies established. Now there are dozens, and there are all these other types of services you can rent out too: you can rent a middle-aged man, or hire someone to take selfies with you all around the city. You can hire a “handsome boy” to make you cry and wipe away your tears. You could hire someone to go shopping with you. It’s all become part of an active service economy.

As platonic intimacy for hire now begins to find its place in the United States, it manifests itself in different ways; adapting to domestic cultural norms, with one of the main focuses being non-sexual physical intimacy and touch. This led me to the Cuddle community: professional Cuddlers who offer paying customers the opportunity to cuddle and experience non-sexual intimacy with a stranger.

Right, and maybe cuddling is kind of a container or rather provides a context where you can test out and actually experience your own personal boundaries, not only theoretically, not just through communicating it, but through action. It’s actually more of a workshop, a “facilitated group experience” led by a certified facilitator. A cuddle party starts with a forty-five-minute explanation on consent: what consent means; what boundaries are; how to articulate your needs and wants; and what it means to comfortably receive and to give or to deny touch. It’s done in an incredibly sophisticated and authentic way.

Well, I really wanted to understand it and believe in it, and to do that I needed to experience it. I went to my first cuddle party and it was a really illuminating experience. I didn’t know what to expect going in. I entered an apartment, and there was an established cuddle room. On the floor there were blankets and pillows. It was a very warm and nurturing space. Communication and articulating your wants and needs is one of the first things you learn, as well as to ask before you do anything. All of this is presented as skills that are being taught. Another big thing is practicing saying “no”—something I’m not always very good at, as I want to please. Personally, I am working on saying what I want with confidence.

I think many of us are conditioned to be a certain way for different reasons, so a lot of the cuddle party is about exploring those boundaries and communication skills by learning how to ask for what we want with clarity.

Yes—there can be. That’s why communication and establishing boundaries are so important.

I think there is an advocacy aspect. I know from talking extensively with Madelon that she co-founded Cuddlist in an attempt to cultivate more authentic relationships, and she does that by creating the conditions for that social dynamic to take form. Authentic connection is one of the core values taught during training. In response to your second question regarding helping people function more authentically in their own relationships, I absolutely think this is true.

Research on touch shows that it has profound impacts: it releases endorphins and oxytocin which helps reduce stress and blood pressure; enables better sleep; and increases overall happiness and well-being. What is amazing is that these health benefits don’t require you to actually know the person. You don’t necessarily need an emotional relationship—it’s about the touch itself, which has enormous healing power. The skin is the body’s largest organ.

Professional touch practitioners have told me that their clients talk very specifically about the effects touch has on them: that for weeks after the session it still fulfills them; it satisfies them and makes them happier; they’re more efficient within the workplace. It affects their relationships, friendships. There is a fundamental shift in their behavior.

There are also very real effects of being touch-deprived: it can lead to depression and anxiety and a myriad of other health issues. Even during the COVID crisis, when the practitioners were working virtually, using techniques like self-touch, eye gazing, virtual cuddling, mirror exercises—it’s not the same as physical Cuddling of course, but it was still beneficial. My first experience of a virtual session elicited such unexpected feelings. There was something very poignant and very moving about the experience of even touching an inanimate object; hearing the practitioner’s voice; hearing someone narrate the experience of touch. During eye gazing, it felt so strange to be looked at so deeply for so long through a screen. I felt a connection despite the fact that we were miles and miles apart. There was something that felt very real—maybe it was because of the one-to-one ratio, and our physical proximity to the cameras on our computers.

So many people are deprived of touch and connection, and even though this is outsourced it is satisfying that need. In some ways this may signal our future, or at least an evolution in our understanding of certain aspects of physical intimacy and personal contact. I have been reading recently about a fascinating and uncanny new AI social robot meant for children called Moxie. It’s meant to be a social companion and an educator who fulfills the need for connection and emotional learning.