02 03 Caitlin Grace Wellbeing Coach: Touch a, touch a, touch me! 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33

Touch a, touch a, touch me!

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 We all need to be touched.

We yearn for it .

We ache for it.

And some of us go to great lengths to get it. Touch, that is.

The name of this blog post is from  The Rocky Horror Picture show Youtube clip.

If you have never seen it go and check it out. The link above is to one of my favorite songs from the show.


However, some of us seem to be under the impression that when men touch it is purely as a prelude to sex or sex related. Consequently a lot of women withdraw or refrain from touching the men in their lives as they don't want to encourage sexual advances.

As women, we have the luxury ( yes, it is a luxury and don't you forget it!) of regular human contact . If we are single we will get hugs from our girlfriends ( and if you are one of my girlfriends you will soon realize that you will get hugged..... a lot!).

We hug.

We rub each others arms.

We put our hands around each others shoulders.

We just reach out and touch each others arms or hands

Hell, I have even been known to walk arm in arm with my BFF's ( yes, I have more than one) when strolling down the street.

Now pause for just a moment and think about any males you may know and ask yourself when was the last time you gave them a hug or a pat on the back or nay other form of affectionate touching. Then ask yourself when did they get that from one of their male friends . The answer is, probably never.

Because it would be considered , well, a bit "gay". And therein lies the problem. Men touching each other is frowned upon. It is seen as  too girly or poofterish ( yeah, I'm not politically correct. Deal with it)

Men on the sports field however will touch and hug and generally release all of their touchy feelings while at the same time being as butch as you like.

But if your man is not a sportsman he isn't getting that kind of interaction. So the touching is, literally, all in your hands
And they need it just as much as we do.

Some of them need it more. They are crying out to be touched, to be held.

Why?


Because it is a basic human need.

 Like breathing.

It is one of the first ways that we start to connect to the world. We, hopefully, are laid on the bare skin f our mother, nurtured and cradled, moments after leaving the womb. It is this connection, this touch that we yearn and crave for all our lives.

When I was a young girl of 11 I would hug my father good night, usually I would sit in his lap. Innocent, natural. But then one day Dad decided that I was now "too old"to sit in his lap. This was the only affection I received from my father on a daily basis and just like that, it stopped.

I was devastated. I couldn't understand why he was rejecting me , because that is what it felt like. What had I done wrong?

Grow up.
 That was the mistake I had made. I was developing breasts round about then so that made me "too old" for affection.

Guess what?

We do this even younger to our boys.

When they are born we cuddle and nuzzle them. As toddlers we hold their hands and stroke their hair and cuddle them. Then, at some point, and it's different in every family, we start being told  by other males or family members to "stop babying him"  or some such nonsense. Sometimes the boys themselves will resist the hugs you give them but deep, deep inside they still want it . They have just learnt that thy have to be tough or brave or manly ( or a long list of stupid words)

The sad thing is, at whatever age it happens, we stop touching them. Whether they are in their early teens or late teens or at some stage before that we just stop.

And the tragedy of it all is this is when they need it most.

I have spoken before about how to raise gorgeous boys and the importance of touch  and sadly, I will probably talk about it again and again until we get the message. Men need to be touched. We all do. It is part of being human.

I have recently met a beautiful woman whose job is all based around touch and you can connect with her here

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