I was born to be a Cuddle Monster! At least that’s what I thought.

L.A’s first Cuddle Party promised three hours of non-sexual touch therapy, where
adults in pajamas could return to their childlike roots of joyful hugging and discovery.
I thought, three hours of hugging women? Genius! Where do I sign up?

It was held in a high-rise apartment in Miracle Mile. My first disappointment was that
REiD Mihalko, the creator, would not be present. He was hosting a Cuddle Party in
New York that night. In the six months since his first party, REiD had made quite the
name for himself, in part due his imagination and vision, and in part due to his creative
capitalization.

The L.A. party was hosted by REiD’s partner, MarciaBaczynski. She was energetic, 
eager-to-hug, and braless, so I quickly forgot my disappointment. 

The invitation said to bring something non-alcoholic to drink. Given that this was to 
have a rediscovering-my-inner-child vibe, I brought little juice boxes. Needless to say, 
they were a hit.

When everyone showed up, we formed a Welcome Circle, where Marcia gave us an 
overview and read the rules created for a safe, non-threatening environment. She 
seemed very proud of their “No Dry-Humping” rule. 

Communication was the key. No one’s allowed to hug (or kiss!) anyone unless they 
ask and get a verbal “yes” first. Then we practiced accepting rejection, where we 
would ask someone for a hug and they would say “no.” Given my track record with 
women, this came very easily for me. 

Finally the Welcome Circle was over and the cuddling commenced -- and never in 
my life have I felt less like cuddling. I simply didn’t want to do it. Was I experiencing 
some sort of hugging performance anxiety?

Maybe it was the heat – wearing flannel in an un-air-conditioned apartment on a 
muggy summer night isn’t exactly conducive to spooning.

And maybe it was the gender imbalance. Despite their efforts at a 50/50 male/female 
ratio, there were eight men and only five women participating. Personally, I’ve got no 
problem with men cuddling each other, but I didn’t pluck down 30 bucks at the door 
to hug some dude. 

The women, bless them, tried to be accommodating, many being caressed by two or 
three guys at once. Marcia was sandwiched on the floor. Since most of her body was 
already being cuddled, she offered what was left and asked if I wanted to massage 
her head. Who can resist an offer like this? I’m only human.

The night went on and most everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. I awkwardly 
hugged another woman, but I never could get into it. Instead, I mostly sat along the 
periphery and followed the conversation, which was engaging if you wanted highlights 
from this year’s BurningMan.

When a couple of people got so comfortable they started kissing each other, I found 
myself feeling oddly jealous. How could these people be so much more relaxed than 
I was? And why was no one clamoring to kiss me? I downed a juice box and 
crushed it with my fist. It was the most satisfying moment of my evening. 

Near the end, Marcia snuggled up to me and asked if I was having a good time. 
Despite it all, I had to admit I was. I was having a breakthrough. An epiphany.

I realized, deep-down, I’m not a touchy-feely person. I was happy accepting this. 
And I also realized, that while many people could really enjoy and benefit from the 
Cuddle Party experience, the next time I pay 30 dollars for an evening of touch with 
women I don’t know, it better come with a stiff drink and a lap dance.
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www.cuddleparty.com

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