SLIDE ME SOME SKIN

I have lamented, more than a few times, my lack of what anybody else might consider a sexual life beyond masturbation. That lack, in fact, was a motivating factor when I began this blog a few years ago. 

 

I’ve resigned myself to being in the passenger seat, and that’s okay. I’m in love with my wife and if this is a sacrifice, then I’ll pay it. Masturbation isn’t the best sex, but it will have to do. (And, under the right circumstances I've grown pretty adept at it.)

On the other hand I am concerned with the lack of true, intimate, physical contact - which I truly believe is a fundamentally important experience to have in this world. 

 

Skin to skin contact, to be specific. 

 

I believe that human beings are social animals, and for our health and well-being we must have a good degree of physical contact with each other. In this modern neo-Puritanical culture we, as Americans, are recreating, this may seem kind of creepy to people who are afraid of touch, and I respect their right to be left alone.

But for me, I really need to touch and be touched. Lacking that in my current existence I’m beginning to feel isolated, even though my wife might be in easy reach. She is, after having been in physical agony during the last few years, much of it related to skin that became extremely stretched and painful (an allergic response to medications). Understandably, she's reluctant to have skin to skin - ie, naked - contact. 

First, she is a bit shy, and generally feels that anything like that would be leading me on. And there’s some truth to the fact that under those circumstances I’m likely to get an erection. Even more to the point, it might comes across as an insult if I did not. A no win situation, really. 

Secondly, there’s the matter of being constantly probed, poked and monitored by doctors. Physical contact - hand in hand, touching her arms, hugging - is welcome and we do a fair amount of it. But remove the clothing for a more intimate and full skin touch and she becomes ill at ease and self-conscious. So, naturally, we do very little of that.

However, I crave touch. Contact. Not necessarily sex, and in fact probably as a preference to it, I find myself in need of sheer physical skin to skin contact with another human being. It’s part of who we are as a species, I believe. That intimate contact is what makes us healthier, both in mind and body. Lacking it we become distant, tense, unhappy.

There are a number of studies that show this to be the case. Of children raised in families filled with loving touches, versus those raised in cold indifference. The differences in eventual growth and maturity are profound. In adults who are physically cut off from touch we can see degradation of health, fitness and self-image.

(Even in the animal kingdom we see the necessity of contact between social species. Chimpanzees and apes commonly have sophisticated cultures built around contact and even the cleaning of each other as part of the social order. Dogs and cats who live together often cuddle and clean each other, and play with each other wrestling and pressing in physical communication.)

And so, to me, it isn’t the lack of sex which causes me the most pain, it’s the lack of contact. Of skin on my skin. Of the relaxation and comfort such contact can bring.
Of the intimacy and reassurance which that sort of contact conveys. And I miss it.

Maybe I’ll get a massage.