Holding Off on the Hug Jamboree

As many of you know, I am currently involved in a long distance relationship. While my mans and I have a pretty decent handle on emotional closeness, sometimes I just miss the physical touch of another human being. Not sexual necessarily…just…bodily contact with another adult-type person.

Now, now, stop raising the eyebrows; I would never, I repeat, NEVER cheat on my boyfriend. But the other day whilst surfing along the cyber waves I came across an article about something that gave me pause…“cuddle parties.” Of course I had to investigate further.

So I ended up on a site appropriately named oc-cuddle.com. These people came across like touch-pushers; going on and on about how unhealthy it is to not be getting your daily dose of nutritious and delicious man-handling. Uh oh, thought I. Am I going to become a touch-anemic?? Do I need the kind of relief only a G-rated hug jamboree can bring??

But the deeper my reading got, the more deeply disturbed I felt. I quickly realized this stuff = not for Trista. And you know I don’t like to feel creeped out alone, so I am going to drag you down into the world of squeeze-soirées with me! Whee!

First off, you’ll want to know that these folks do have some ground rules, 15 of them to be exact. You can read them all on their site, but I decided to discuss a few of ‘em with you. (My commentary is in red…)

• Pajamas stay on the whole time. - This ain’t no nekkid party folks! Thems down the hall…

• No SEX. (Yep, you read that right.) - Again, may I refer you to that party down the hall…

• Kissing and nuzzling, as well as other forms of touch, are allowed, but you must ask permission and receive a verbal YES before you touch anyone. - Now, when they say other forms of touch, do they mean “got your nose!” touching, or “oops, I accidentally pinned you down under me with my hand on your vagina!” touching? What’s the difference you ask? You are so not invited to my cuddle party…

• You don’t have to cuddle anyone at a Cuddle Party, ever. - Sweet! All you voyeurs out there, you can go to watch people…hug…that oughta be a hoot.

• NO DRY HUMPING! - Are you getting the asexual vibe here? Cuz I am starting to…

• If you’re in a relationship, communicate and set your boundaries and agreements BEFORE you go to the Cuddle Party. Don’t re-negotiate those agreements/boundaries during the Cuddle Party. (Trust us on this one.) - “Well baby, I know I said I wasn’t gonna touch no one’s boobalies but yours, but look at that woman’s boobalies! No baby, really…would you just look at her luscious…where ya going…?”

• Get your Cuddle Lifeguard On Duty or Cuddle Caddy if there’s a concern, problem, or question or should you feel unsafe or need assistance with anything during the Cuddle Party. - Your cuddle lifeguard? In case you are drowning in a sea of pathetic? And what is the caddy for…to bring you a four iron to clunk people in the head in case the freaks go native on you?

• Crying and giggling are both welcomed and encouraged. - Just not at the same time, because, well, that’s creepy…even for gropers-r-us.

• Be hygienically savvy. - No one likes doggy breath in a puppy pile!

Anyhow folks, you get the idea. I know I am being a tad harsh, but what I found in my exploration filled me with a hard core case of the heebie-jeebies. I realized something about myself while perusing the site, I really am not comfortable with the idea of rolling around on the floor with a bunch of pajama clad strangers.

So what kind of people DOES this concept appeal to?

I mean, really? Instead of creating intimacy with people in your life, you have to pay 30 bucks to be touched by an unfamiliar?? I suppose I should be proud of y’all for making your way out of your grandma’s basement, but come on! This doesn’t seem like pro-touch healing to me, but more like a scam that is feeding off the lonely and socially stunted.

Maybe the founders are right…maybe we are living in a touch-deprived society. But thinking about that statement makes me want to go pick up my kids and hug them…not pay to pet a stranger…(especially the kind of strangers willing to hand over money to be fondled by people they don’t know…)

So, to each their own and all that, but this is one social scene I shall not be exploring further. I will look fondly to the day when I can be spooned (and get forked) by my boyfriend again, but until then the only snuggling up I am going to be doing is with my own pillow. And thanks to cuddle.com I feel 100% better about the waiting.

So my friends, what do you think about this? Are you just a fluffy-wuffy cuddle bunny looking for a place to get petted? Or are you thinking this is perhaps a wee bit creepy? Would you pay 30 smackers to get touched by a stranger? Do you believe that grown-ass adults should get involved with something called puppy piles? I need to know!

The spendthrift and the weirdo

Previously on “Love-fucked” you were introduced to the Texan and the Age-d Internet Starlet. They began their unconventional romance on the pages of a social networking site…while living over 1000 miles apart. Last we saw these two fledgling lovebirds they were about to embark upon a new leg of the journey into amore’…the telephone call. We now Join T as she not so patiently waits for B to pick up the damn phone…

(T’s thoughts will be black, her dialogue in purple, and B’s dialog, blue.)

B: Hello
Rawr, sexy voice, bonus. Except…
T: You don’t sound anything like Gonzo….
He claimed to sound like the big-nosed blue muppet. And he doesn’t. He lied? So he’s a LIAR! Hello, red flag!
B: And you don’t have Ms. Piggy’s 401k, what’s your point?
Well, THAT was rude! He has no clue how much money I have saved…Wait! Is he saying I seem like a spendthrift? This conversation is already wrong, wrong, wrong!
T: How do you know about my finances, hmm, chief?
B: Well, I’m flipping through you’re bank statements right now…and I used to date Ms. Piggy…so I don’t know, call it an educated guess.
T: Hahahahha… (sigh)
I laugh, but I want to cry. What the Hell? FREEAAAK! Now I don’t know if he is a stalker…or a plain ol’ weirdo.
T: Oh yeah, well where do I spend the most money then, smartie?
B: Hmmm…. coffee shops, taco stands… self help books? Like most Californians I reckon…yep.
T: Whatever…
Shiiit, how’d he KNOW? I need to go back through the e-mails…hold on, did he just say “I reckon??” Yep…

Completely out of character, I had taken this strange young squire from the Southwest’s phone number. And I had actually called it. Because he baited me…over and over! And like a dumb animal I took the bait… over and over! Now here we were on the phone, and he was doing it yet again. And for some reason quite beyond my understanding…I was enjoying it. Was I being brainwashed?

I awoke in the morning with the phone stuck to my face and a 9 hour conversation hangover. What had just happened? The night before was a blur of oddly intoxicating ideas, strange voices and backhanded compliments. I mean, this man actually accused my vagina of being a planet eating black hole…and instead of getting mad, I giggled like a damn school girl!

That night I talked to him again. Then we talked again the next night, and so on for week after week. I found him to be weird and pushy and borderline obsessive…and still, I found myself lamenting when I missed a call or e-mail from him. Until…

B: I should move out there
Aauch-haa! Look at B, getting quick with the funnies. Alright, sucka-butt!
T: Heh… yeah and then you can do me everyday, and we can play monopoly with the old hippies down at Venice Beach.
B: Yeah I think it’s doable. I’d have to get a job though. Hmmm.
What, not even a chuckle? Still, he’s got aaalll kinds a’jokes tonight. I can top him…riiiiight now, watch-this-shit…
T: Mmmhhmmmm…You can totally get a job as a head waiter at the fancy French restaurant nearby and whisk me and the kids into a world of curmudgeonly chefs and salacious gossip, n’est-ce pas?
B: That’s a great idea…I have waiting experience…that’s a good starter job. I can pick up another one…and I can live with you! Yeah…you have room, right?
Wait, is he trying to one-up me here? Because he’s not being very joke-y. In fact, he seems kinda serious…
T: Umm, wha? Well, uhhh, ummm, too bad you cannot survive in LA without a car…lovely idea though…perhaps instead we can both run away and join the cir…
B: I’ll buy one… I’m going to look into plane tickets.
What the…?
T: B, can you call I call you back I’ve got hair in my washing mach-iiit..I meanIgot…I got clothes in the sh…iiit. I gotta wash my laundry and do hair. M’kay Bye bye.
B: Okaa…(Click) ?
T: (dial tone…)
B: Hello….THE? Where art thou? C’mon you didn’t really hang up…hello?

Okay…this just got crazy. This…this… cyber-stranger is trying to BUY PLANE TICKETS! He’s talking about MOVING IN WITH ME!! Where’s my inhaler…wait, I don’t even have asthma…but I can’t breathe!

I had to think, and fast…and so my mind went to the one thing that seemed to scare off every guy in my life since I was 12 years old… ( dun dun dun)

MY DAD!

• Is B seriously going to fly out to California…and if so what discount ticket sight will he utilize?

• Will T recover from her panicked state?

• Is her father as scary as Wilfred Brimley?

• What other celestial bodies might we find in T’s vagina?

Tuuuuuuune in next time….for the next addition of love fucked!

What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken for love? Would you move 1000 miles to live with someone you’ve never actually met? How fast is too fast? Are these two crazy kids making a huge mistake? Would you have kept talking to this weirdo? Thoughts, folks!

The seduction of an aging internet starlet

What we are about to bring you is a tale of two people… as told by them in the hopes of deciphering the mysterious origins of their romance.
Welcome to the first installment of…Love-fucked (that’s a working title, folks…)

( Trista shall be in purple, her cohort in blue…as they weave the story of their unlikely…whatever the hell you call this…)

Once upon a time there was this girl who spent a lot of time on the computer. This was a girl a lot like you…a lot like me. Okay, it was me.

So This is how it went down… I was new to the computer age and had heard about this thing crazy lil’ thing called Myspace.

I was doing a little computer multi-tasking; downloading some music while playing around on Myspace.

So long story short I sign up and I begin perusing the top new blogs when I spot this chick with a fucking raccoon on her head… …now I am not a man prone to strong attachments…but something about the look on her face or the carcass on her head told me that this women would be fantastic in bed.

[Read more]

Playing Relationship Risk

They say you hurt the ones you love, and when it comes to fighting I’d say whoever “they” are, they got it right. All may be fair in love and war…but there just isn’t anything at all fair about how two people who love each other engage in battle. We become monstrous versions of ourselves…more malicious, more vicious, and more heartless.

[Read more]

The Arbor

She dreamt of creating a place where peace and silence would reign. A quiet retreat where the sun would shine on her face and the wind would blow through her hair. Years of diligent landscaping would provide the tranquil backdrop for her sanctuary; surrounded by pine trees, honeysuckle, dandelion fields and rolling hills she selected the ideal plot for The Arbor.

[Read more]

Next Page »