My Experience with Cuddle Events
When I first stepped into a cuddle event, I had no idea what to expect. The concept wasn’t entirely foreign—I’d been a 16-year-old raver who loved the “cuddle puddles” in the middle of a warehouse, but those were a far cry from these sober events. Back then, everything felt wonderful, thanks to the drugs coursing through my system. But a sober cuddle event? That was uncharted territory for me.
In my professional life, I always touch people in my sessions, but that’s different. My sessions are one-on-one, intimate but structured, and by the time a client and I meet in person, they’re no longer strangers. We’ve had multiple points of contact, built trust, and negotiated boundaries. Walking into a room full of strangers for a group cuddle event was a whole other story.
My first few events were part of a certification requirement, and I was nervous but determined to push through. That’s how I roll—I’m a business owner who knows how to get things done. At those first events, I said yes to every touch that was offered or asked of me. Why? Because I wanted to experience it all. How else would I know what I liked or didn’t like? But once I had time to reflect, I realized I wasn’t listening to myself. I had overridden my own feelings, saying yes when I should have said, “I’m not sure,” and given myself the space to feel into my body and decide what I really wanted.
That realization hit me hard. I started to feel resentment toward myself for going along with things, and it became clear that I hadn’t been respecting my own boundaries. The experience taught me something essential about consent: it’s not just about saying no confidently; it’s about knowing what no feels like in your body. That’s something many of us aren’t taught as children. If saying no as a kid meant punishment—a spanking, a time-out, or a scolding—then as adults, we often don’t recognize what no feels like, let alone believe it’s safe to express it.
Then there was Jax’s event with DC Cuddle Club—a kink and cuddle event on the rooftop of a DC restaurant. I’ve attended kink events before—watched, participated, and learned so much about myself, other people, and how trauma can manifest in kink and sexual desire. (I’ll save that for another blog!) Walking into Jax’s event, I felt a mix of curiosity and apprehension and was pleasantly surprised that my boundary wasn’t crossed once, which hadn’t always been my experience at past kink events. Navigating my boundaries in such a dynamic space was illuminating. It pushed me to confront how much of myself I was willing to share and how to balance curiosity with self-awareness. That experience reinforced the importance of creating spaces where people can explore their desires and boundaries without fear of judgment or pressure.
This understanding came full circle last Saturday at the Consent & Cuddles event I co-hosted with Amy Curry. We had an incredible turnout, with people eager to engage in touch and others who chose to sit back, watch, and simply connect in other ways. For me, this event was different. I’m not comfortable being part of a group cuddle puddle, so I stayed true to myself and found connection in ways that felt good to me.
I sat next to a fellow practitioner, draped myself over him, and let him squeeze me tightly. It felt grounding, calming, exactly what I needed. Later, I stretched my legs across a Southern Virginia practitioner, snuggled up close to her, and we shared stories about the last year, catching up in a way that fed my soul. That kind of connection made me feel part of the tribe like I belonged. For someone who fiercely covets their body and who has access to it, this felt just right.
I appreciated how my choice to steer clear of the cuddle puddle was respected, just as the choices of those who didn’t engage in touch were honored. Some participants preferred to talk, listen, or simply observe. That respect is crucial, and it’s why I don’t think “cuddle” is the right name for these events. They’re about so much more—human connection, belonging, and feeling like you’re part of something when you often feel like you’re part of nothing. For so many, that fear of dying alone or thinking nobody cares can weigh heavily, and events like this offer a safe space to push against that loneliness.
I have to give it to Amy. Her incredible facilitation gave me the confidence to try cuddle events again. I think I’ve realized that I like being a facilitator and working the room far more than being an attendee. As a facilitator, I can check in with everyone, creating an environment where people feel seen and safe. If I’m honest, there’s also an element of control in hosting these events that makes me feel more comfortable. Knowing that I’m helping shape the experience for others puts me at ease.
This journey has been eye-opening. It’s reminded me how powerful intentional touch and communication can be, whether it’s offering a warm embrace or simply holding space for someone to share. I’m excited to see where this path leads next and to continue creating spaces for authentic connection.
If you’ve ever been curious about these events or are looking for ways to reconnect with others—or yourself—keep an eye on my website or subscribe to my newsletter for updates. Together, we can embrace connection, one moment at a time.
