Would you pay someone for a hug?
Cuddle therapy is the latest wellness trend that promises to cut stress and boost mood. ELIZABETH ARCHER signs up for a session
AS I lie on the sofa, the woman sitting beside me wraps her arms around me and envelops me in a warm embrace. We are so close that I can hear her heart beating as she gently strokes my hair.
She isn’t a relative or even a friend, in fact we only met a few minutes earlier.
Welcome to the bizarre world of cuddle therapy, a growing wellness trend that claims to reduce stress and boost wellbeing through platonic hugging.
It may sound unconventional and a bit wacky but fans firmly believe it is a form of emotional healing and a great remedy for stress.
“Two years ago when I started my company, cuddle therapy was popular in America but there were very few people offering it in the UK, says Rebekka Mikkola, founder of Nordic Cuddle.
“But in two years, the business has grown and now I have 10 people working for me.”
Rebekka explains that hugging releases the happy hormone serotonin, which creates a sense of wellbeing.
In an age when more and more of our interaction with others is via technology rather than face-to-face, it’s easy to see why people are more in need of human touch than ever.
“As our social world becomes increasingly visual and digital, it is easy to forget the power of touch in human relations,” says Mariana von Mohr, psychologist at University College London.
“But research has shown that being touched by a stranger can reduce feelings of social exclusion.”
Rebekka says that most of her clients are men. She believes this is because it’s often considered less acceptable for men to ask for affection than it is for women.
“Men often don’t feel like they can ask for physical affection when they need it,” she adds.
I was intrigued to find out whether hugging a stranger could really have the same soothing effect as cuddling a friend or partner. S O I booked in for an hour-long session with Rebekka. When I told my friends what I planned to do, most recoiled in horror.
“Why would you want to snuggle up with a total stranger?” one asked.
I arrived at the smart office block in the heart of London and was met by Rebekka, who led me into a small, bright room with a plush velvet sofa and squishy armchair.
I’d been expecting mood lighting. It didn’t look like the setting for some serious cuddle time.
As she closed the door, I suddenly started to feel nervous.
Although I’m a fairly affectionate person, my hugs are usually reserved for people I know and love.
Yet here I was, about to spend an entire hour cuddling someone I’d only just met.
We took off our shoes and sat facing each other on the sofa.
Rebekka asked me a few questions about myself and whether I liked hugs generally.
I told her that I didn’t mind when they were from my boyfriend, and she laughed. As we talked she looked me straight in the eyes, which felt quite intense.
Then she asked if she could hold my hands.
“Everything we do is about consent and boundaries,” she explains.
“Some people like being touched in some ways but not others.”
I agreed to let Rebekka hold my hands and she began pressing my palms delicately with her fingers.
She asked me to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. As I inhaled through my nose and out through my mouth, I tried to focus on my breathing.
However it was difficult to fully relax while holding a stranger’s hands.
After a few moments, Rebekka asked me to open my eyes and guided me to a standing position.
She asked if she could hug me and wrapped me in a firm embrace with her arms over my shoulders.
I closed my eyes and tried to match my breathing to Rebekka’s as instructed.
I couldn’t remember ever being so close to someone I didn’t know before.
But Rebekka’s relaxed attitude put me at ease and after a few moments I was surprised to find myself sinking into her arms.
Then she asked if I was ready to cuddle on the sofa.
Somewhat apprehensively, I said yes, and she sat with her back resting on the arm of the couch while I snuggled up next to her with my head on her chest.
She looped her legs over mine, and started stroking my hair.
Without background music, all I could hear was the ticking of the clock.
I started to feel a bit uncomfortable.
Suddenly, a whole hour of snuggling felt like a very long time.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, I cracked.
“Do people normally talk during these sessions, or is it more of a silent thing?” I asked.
Rebekka told me to do whatever felt comfortable and we chatted a bit about the therapy and her business. A S WE spoke, she stroked my back reassuringly with one hand and gave me an extra squeeze when there was a pause in the conversation.
To my surprise, as time went on, I started to feel relaxed and sleepy and before I knew it the hour was up and the session drew to a close.
While it was an odd experience, I definitely felt happy and chilled out by the end.
“Sometimes people go into what I call a cuddle coma, because of all the serotonin and dopamine,” says Rebekka.
Although I enjoyed the session, some aspects of cuddle therapy worried me.
It’s not a regulated industry, so while Rebekka vets and trains people who work for her, anybody can advertise their services as a cuddle therapist without training or background checks.
I also wondered if the therapists felt safe.
Rebekka said she occasionally got emails from clients asking if they could take their therapist for dinner.
However one of the company’s rules is that clients must change therapists if they book in for a repeat session.
Despite my preconceptions, I ended up enjoying cuddle therapy and wouldn’t rule out doing it again.
In the meantime however I’ll just have to settle for cuddles from my boyfriend.
Sessions cost £65 for one hour. For more information visit nordiccuddle.com