fresnelly

When I read an article like the following from The Globe and Mail, I tend to get really surly. A handful of bohemian types in LA and New York getting (sort of) freaky together does not a hot trend make. Also, where's my invitation?

Would you attend this sort of event? First, I imagine being extremely awkward about initiating such intimate contact with strangers, and while I would be able to control my sexual urges, it would drive me crazy at the same time. I couldn't last the full 3 hours, that's for sure. I'm also curious how the gender balance affects the session.

<b>Loving spoonfuls</b>

<i>Call it the orgy for the 21st century. The sex-free cuddle party is the hottest trend from New York to L.A.
By MIKE MINER

Saturday, August 6, 2005 Page L2

The party starts more like a class you would sign up for at a gym. People arrive, duck out of the room to change into more comfortable clothes and then mill about waiting for things to get started. Our host points out the snack table, but beyond that, nobody has much to say. Everybody is grinning and pacing.
At the appointed hour, we sit on cushions and blankets in a circle and the cuddle party is under way.
Cuddle parties are exactly what they sound like. Men and women just like you or me, heading out for an evening of pyjama-clad embraces with whoever needs a hug.
The result looks like a rewriting of a Roman orgy for the purpose of teaching boundaries and manners to preschoolers. It's adults lounging across pillows and each other, but it's all please and thank you.
And it's raising equal parts contempt and fascination from L.A. to the U.K. In The Times of London, columnist Julie Burchill called it "a hideous American invention," saying the "set-up allows affluent Americans to pay $30 each to some sort of prissy procurer in order to use their apartment for a three-hour, strictly non-sexual grope-fest; touching, massaging, tickling, stroking, fondling and -- hang about, I'm really going to chuck now -- 'spooning.' "
Clearly, the cuddle party is not for everyone, and, we are emphatically told, it is not a sex party.
The rules are laid out at length at the beginning of each three-hour snuggle session. You must ask and receive permission before even the slightest contact. From there, it moves into more complex issues like hygiene (a must) and dry humping (verboten). Giggling and crying are encouraged, and consensual smooching is fine.
"The rules are worth going over because they work," says Cecilia Moorcroft, a Toronto-based cuddle party facilitator. "Everybody knows what goes and what doesn't. And this creates the safe environment we want."
There's no hard and fast rule about erections. According to cuddle party philosophy, erections just happen and aren't unusual in a cuddling situation. Just ignore it, no dry humping, and it will go away eventually. This was gone over at length at the party Moorcroft held last week, which was a special treat for me, the only man in the room.
In case things get out of hand, there's the bell.
"We have a cuddle buddy system," Moorcroft explains. "When I ring the bell, people stop what they're doing for a minute, find their partner and raise their hands."
And with good reason.
"They started to do cuddle parties in Alabama before going through the training," Moorcroft says. "A couple of people got a bit out of control and the facilitators didn't know how to stop it. No bell. Now, they have a huge cowbell and nobody wants to set that big thing off."
Moorcroft attended her first cuddle party in New York, after seeing an item on TV. "It spoke to what I'd already been feeling, which was a lack of affection."
She was initially "terrified," she says. "Most of my concerns are fairly typical cuddle party worries. What if nobody wants to cuddle with me? What if only ugly people show up?"
But the experience met her expectations. "When I first lay down to cuddle with somebody, my body let out this sigh. I left feeling totally blissed out. I've never been that high."
She signed up for a training course in Los Angeles, went back for more in Alabama, and returned to Canada a certified cuddle party facilitator. She works with a sidekick -- the "cuddle caddy" -- who helps with set-up and supervision, answers questions and enforces the rules.
To get in the door, you need $25 to $35 (it's a sliding scale) and a pair of pyjamas. The host takes care of music (Moorcroft avoids New Age), provides cushions and blankets and snacks. After that, people just flop around and do (almost) anything they want to do, and (almost) whatever others will let them.
Some parties throw stuffed toys or musical instruments into the mix. But at last week's party, it was mostly small talk and spooning. Everyone had a chance to set their boundaries. One woman didn't want to be touched on her ears and feet, because that was strictly the domain of her significant other. Others patrolled the perimeter and dove in only occasionally.
The cuddle caddy doled out foot rubs and another guest read palms. When the palmist finished with one guest, she summoned the next in line with a friendly swat on the butt, shattering the cardinal rule requiring consent before any contact. The group looked on in shock as she realized her mistake.
"Oh, crap," she said. "Sorry about that. May I swat you on the ass?"
The evening wrapped up with a puppy pile, where all the attendees stack on top of one another. My friend and I made our exit before that could happen, but the others were beaming and clearly in their element.
Special to The Globe and Mail</i>

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Building an artificial intelligence that appreciates Mozart is easy. Building an A.I. that appreciates a theme restaurant is the real challenge - Kit Roebuck - Nine Planets Without Intelligent Life