I joined a 'cuddle puddle' with strangers

Missing human touch, Helen Jane Campbell, 47, a writer and life coach in Sussex, went along to an event where you cuddle up to strangers. So was it comforting or creepy? Here, she reveals all.

Cuddling is on the rise in the UK. If you find yourself single and touch-starved, you can now find platonic touch events – so-called 'cuddle puddles' – for adults across the UK. Non-sexual with clothes-on, these are not sex parties. They’re about consent, communication and the soothing power of being held by another human. Or several humans. Was I brave enough to spoon strangers? It felt scary, but piqued my curiosity, so I apprehensively signed up for a Sunday afternoon cuddle in Brighton.

I’m often touch-hungry. Currently single, mid-forties and child-free, I know it’s important for my wellbeing. So I followed the link on the 'How To Find Oneself In A Queer Cuddle Puddle' poster, stuck to a toilet door in a gay bar I go to. I wasn't actually sure what a cuddle puddle was, so I read up on it, discovering that a couple of relationship coaches in New York began holding cuddle parties in 2004, spreading a new trend across the US.

And it seems that, post-covid, Brits are craving more cuddles too. So if you search online for 'cuddle puddles' or 'cuddle parties' you’ll notice several UK groups and events popping up – including the below:

Craving a hug

During Covid lockdowns, I craved human contact with a gnawing ache. I tend to be drawn to what some refer to as 'woo' beliefs and practices, but the more I've looked into it, the more I’ve noticed academics citing the power of touch too.

Research by the University of Miami in April 2020 reports that: "Touch deprivation is a widespread Covid-19 lockdown experience. Its relationship to health problems, negative mood states, sleep disturbances and post-traumatic stress symptoms highlights the need for decreasing touch deprivation."

The report also reflects on how little research has been carried out in this area. Healthcare company Bupa’s Medical Director of UK Insurance writes about the benefits of touch on its official website. If multinational company experts were making correlations between hugging and health, I felt like I couldn't keep ignoring this aspect of my wellbeing either.

Despite craving touch, I did have fears. I was relieved to see hand sanitiser when I arrived at the dance studio event venue – which was light, clean and open. It was a Sunday afternoon and we were invited to remove our shoes and sit in a circle. I was wearing layers and bundled up in a scarf. I vaguely recognised someone I know from a local poetry group. Most people seemed shy, a bit giggly and very polite.

Fears and worries

The facilitators began to guide us, explaining it was about consent: we’d practise saying yes or no, starting with a touch of a hand if we wanted to. They were kind and thoughtful, people shared their pronouns, it was about safety, wellbeing, pleasure and taking questions. Nobody had to participate in any touch unless they wanted to. My mind raced silently… what if someone smelt, or my stomach rumbled because I was nervous? What if nobody wanted to cuddle me or I had a panic attack?

The question 'How can this feel even better?' was drawn in large neon letters on a handmade sign, surrounded by fairy lights. There were cuddly toys and someone was in dinosaur pyjamas.

The event was run by The Devil’s Dyke Network: 'An inclusive platform for poets, performers and artists dedicated to building community and generating positive cultural and political energies.'

I asked one of the two facilitators, Vi, to explain the aim of the cuddle puddle: "A lot of us don’t get enough touch and intimacy (and we often don’t even realise how much we are deprived)," said Vi, who uses the pronouns they/them. "We tend to only seek to meet these touch and intimacy needs through romantic love with one person – which is often an unsustainable ideal that leaves a lot of people miserable. There is something intriguing and edgy about the prospect of going to an event and potentially finding intimacy with people you’ve never met."

Establishing consent

I partnered with a woman to explore touching one another’s hands and practise saying 'no' or 'yes'. It felt a bit weird. We swapped partners to explore sitting back-to-back on the floor, nestling our backs together to find a surprisingly blissful position. We were both reluctant to return to the circle as this position felt so good. People were getting closer to one another.

A stranger with heavy eye make-up asked to trace my tattoo, and I let them, enjoying their curiosity. The tattoo in question was on my inner wrist, would I have agreed if it was in a more intimate place? They had an arm tattoo as well, so I mirrored their request. It felt meditative and sensory rather than sexy. Then they asked to sip from my water bottle, but I refused, explaining there was water available in reception. I’d found my line.

We all reconvened and created a huge pool of cushions and blankets. There was going to be a half-hour cuddle puddle and a sort of debrief. I bravely approached two women, eager to share the gigantic beanbag they were snuggling on. They welcomed me and I tentatively cuddled up, lying down. I felt vulnerable. Others joined in, my arm going to sleep. We were encouraged to ask for what we really wanted, so I suggested we try spooning and a lovely woman with pink hair agreed, moving closer to the centre with me.

Suddenly something shifted and I felt at ease lying down and spooning her back. I breathed out and tried to stop over-thinking. She held both my hands around her body and I felt emotional but not sexual. I noticed how good my body felt. I’m unsure how I would've responded to rejection – asking a stranger to spoon with me felt harder than asking a previous girlfriend for a kiss on our first date.

A new outlook

I chatted afterwards to another participant, Billie Sheikh, 32, who talked about how it felt for her. "I’ve been discovering new things about myself and touch is something I’ve been missing a lot," she told me. "I’ve been looking for a queer community and this was the perfect way to do both. I’ve been struggling to connect with my body as I’m starting to transition, and this really helped me to reconnect with my body. I look forward to coming back.”

I’d definitely go back. As an LGBTQ+ person I enjoyed the community aspect of an event designed for other queer folks. I liked the fresh perspective that the organisers brought and how it helped me think about the world slightly differently. Learning by doing is very powerful and I felt not only soothed but enlightened. And better prepared to say 'no' to what I don’t want as well as 'yes’ to what I do. 'How can this feel even better?' is a good mantra for life.

Read more on relationships:

• Touch can help improve feelings of pain or depression, study suggests (PA News, 2-min read)

• Five ways loneliness can negatively effect your health (PA News, 4-min read)

• Expert offers advice on how to reconnect (Yahoo Life UK, 3-min read)