Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, Touch Me...

...I wanna feel dirty.

That's the chorus from a song in The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Janet is explaining to Columbia that she's a virgin and yet she badly needs some attention.

The song comes to mind after a conversation I overheard at work today about the cuddle parties popular out West. I brought up this subject in a post I wrote three years ago.

Basically, people go to these free-for-alls to hug and establish some level of intimacy with total strangers.

And my standard thought applies: Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not really in to any physical closeness with people whom I don't know.

But people I do know - that's another story.

This whole thread of thought reminds me of an emotion that flittered through my being this past weekend.

Hugs are incredibly important.

I remember hearing in a seminar of some kind that the human body has a natural need to touch another being, and will crave that touch if it goes long without some kind of contact. This can lead to an incredible predicament for single people:

How do you fulfill your need to touch and be touched when you're not a plus 1?

Somebody once told me that the act of crossing one's arms is the body's natural reaction to combat a lack of hugs - an act of self embrace.

I was reunited with my best friend and her wonderful brother this weekend. The occasion meant hugs all around and constant gestures of endearment. A gentle back rub, a caring hand to hold. The whole weekend left me feeling refreshed and confident that people loved me.

It's amazing to think that some relationships exist out there where people aren't affectionate - families that don't hug and husbands and wives who don't kiss.

How painful.