Touch Is Not My Love Language, But It Is My Core

Touch Is Not My Love Language, But It Is My Core

Two hands outstretched and clasped as for the Tango.

Yesterday I was having a conversation with a very sexy person. A person who I wanted to touch. A lot. In happy ways, in dirty ways, and in ways that combine the two feelings to great effect.

And I did, some. There was a touch here for emphasis, a touch there just because. A hug started our meeting, and a wonderful hug (accompanied by a bit of growling) finished it.

And it was wonderful.

And I felt comfortable.

Ah. NRE.

Although it’s not really an R. More like the exploration of the potential for, but my body doesn’t know that, and is gung ho in pretty much every way I can measure right now…

And so, wanting LOTS of touch. Craving it. Obsessing over it. Mmmm.

This person and I discussed how touch often disappears from relationships as NRE wears off, and those high love/lust inducing dumps of dopamine, vasopressin and oxytocin go on the decline, starkly revealing to us that the haze of happiness is not long-term enough to excuse the heinous crime of squeezing a tub of toothpaste from the center for the rest of our lives.

Or, I think that’s what we said.

I was a bit twitterpated.

But I’m pretty sure that’s what we talked about. At least some of the time.

And I said that I refuse a relationship where touch—both affectionate and sexual—dies off. And they countered with a version of “It always does.”

And while I know this isn’t TRUE, it is true for many.

And also for many, their daily lives are not full of casual touch, either. No hugging friends, patting the back or arm of a colleague, no holding hands, or accidentally brushing fingers with the delivery person as you take a package…

Add to that the idea that touch is a potential infringement on others’ human rights (it is), and we have a society increasingly touch deprived.

And that’s sad.

Pet’s strongest love language is touch. I touch him a lot. So much, and with such glee and importance, that he is convinced that it’s my love language as well.

It’s not.

Those are gifts and quality time.

Touch is not a love language. It’s a requirement for survival that thrival in my life.

  • Touch release oxytocin, which bonds me to people and they to me.
  • Touch increases feelings of social inclusion and reduces depression through seratonin.
  • Touch slows down heart rate, blood pressure and the release of cortisol, reducing stress and increasing  health.
  • Touch encourages better sleep.
  • Touch boosts our immune systems.

And on and on. It’s like food. Or air.

A bare minimum in my life, on which other things like a sexy mouth, agile mind and sexual insatiability are added.

Touch is not my love language, but it is my core.

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