My last blog post suggested that men might be touch-starved. But it’s clearly not just men who aren’t being touched enough. In her book Touch(2001), Tiffany Field argued that many societies, ours among them, are dangerously touch-deprived, leading to an epidemic of what she referred to as “touch hunger.”

Why are we suffering from this epidemic? A common explanation is that we value our personal space.

I don’t believe that answer probes deeply enough to explain why we, as a society suffer from touch hunger.

There is something exceptionally intimate about the feel of flesh on flesh, especially without the excitement of sexual attraction. It is so naked and so vulnerable, that I would go so far as to say that there is no substitute for it. Touch can communicate emotions like tenderness, anger, joy or fear within mere seconds and without the masking vagaries of language.

Margaret Atwood said it well: “Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language, and the last, and it always tells the truth.”

Such a raw form of vulnerable truth telling can be scary, especially at a time when electronic connections are rapidly replacing face-to-face bonding with others. As a culture, I believe we are eroding both our ability and our desire for the vulnerability inherent in physical connection.

When Ed lies beside me and we do that “skin thing,” it envelops us both in a space of vulnerable oneness. So much so that during times of conflict between us, this form of touching evokes strong negative responses and detachment. Our “skin thing” allows us to feel completely connected when we are willing to be vulnerable with one another; and completely disconnected when we fear that level of exposure.

It would appear that the reciprocity of touch increases intimacy and relationship satisfaction only when we are willing to open ourselves vulnerably to another.

I think it’s worth it. Do you?