Oops, Was That Too Intimate?
I run a men’s wellness practice, and my sessions—whether massage, cuddle therapy, or sacred intimacy—are intentional, consensual, and structured for healing.
But just because it’s professional doesn’t mean it’s always easy. Or predictable. Or cleanly compartmentalized into little boxes labeled “therapist” and “client.” If only it were that simple.
Touch is messy. Beautiful, necessary, healing—and occasionally messy.
Wait… What’s Happening Here?
Every now and then, I’m midway through a session—slow breathing, hands on a client’s back, maybe we’ve dropped into a deeper emotional space—and I feel it.
Not something inappropriate. Not anything acted on.
But something intimate.
There’s a quickening in the air. A sigh that sounds like longing. A trembling in the body that doesn’t quite feel like release. And I know: we’re on the edge of something. Maybe desire. Maybe grief. Often both.
“Is it possible,” I ask myself, “to keep touch entirely platonic when the human body is wired for connection?”
Short answer? Not always. And that’s not a bug in the system. It’s part of the work.
The Erotic Isn’t Always Sexual
Let’s talk about the E-word.
Erotic.
Cue the dramatic music, the raised eyebrows, the internal HR alarm bells. But “erotic” doesn’t always mean “sexual.” It comes from eros, the life force. The creative spark. The part of us that longs to connect, to be seen, to be touched in more ways than just skin-deep.
“Eros might show up as a physical arousal, yes, but it might also show up as tears, laughter, or that feeling of finally being home in your body.”
In my sessions, I witness men who haven’t been held in years. Some of them have never been touched in a nurturing way at all. So when their bodies relax into safe, consensual contact, it can feel like everything.
That’s not unprofessional. That’s human.
When Clients Catch Feelings
Let’s just say it: sometimes, clients fall for their touch therapist.
Now before you picture some juicy Netflix drama involving scented oils and whispered declarations, know that what they’re usually falling for isn’t me. It’s what they feel in my presence.
Safety. Warmth. Permission to be soft.
“When a man hasn’t felt safe in his vulnerability before, the person who gives him that experience can feel magnetic.”
But that doesn’t mean it’s romantic love. It’s often a projection. The heart trying to make sense of this strange, disorienting feeling of being seen without shame.
And honestly? That deserves tenderness, not judgment.
Boundary Navigation: Not Just a Buzzword
So how do I navigate these sticky moments?
First, I don’t ignore them. Denial is not a boundary tool.
If I sense a client is getting emotionally entangled—or if I feel something stirring in myself—I take a breath. I ground. And I name what needs to be named.
Sometimes I’ll say, “Hey, I just want to check in. I’m sensing a lot of tenderness here. How are you feeling right now?”
“Touch without transparency is a recipe for confusion.”
Boundaries don’t mean shutting someone down. They mean creating a container strong enough to hold truth.
Therapist Shadow Work: Gotta Love It
Now here’s where it gets juicy.
This work isn’t just about managing clients’ feelings. It’s about managing mine too. I have my own history, my own wounds, my own places where validation can feel addictive.
It would be easy to slide into roles: The Savior. The Sexy Healer. The One Who Finally Makes You Feel Worthy.
Those roles are dangerous—especially when they go unchecked.
“If I’m not doing my own shadow work, I can end up using the work to feed my ego instead of serving my clients.”
So I stay in therapy. I get supervision. I ask myself uncomfortable questions like:
Am I subtly encouraging this person’s attachment?
Is part of me craving their affection or approval?
Would I be acting differently if they weren’t attractive?
Yep. Not exactly stuff you brag about in a LinkedIn bio. But crucial if I want to stay in integrity.
Is 100% Platonic Cuddling a Myth?
Honestly? It depends on how you define “platonic.”
If you mean “non-sexual,” yes. I maintain clear agreements around what happens in sessions, and I respect those boundaries fiercely.
But if you mean “completely devoid of intimacy, emotion, or charge”? That’s harder.
“Touch is intimate by nature. And sometimes, healing awakens desire—not because something’s wrong, but because something’s finally right.”
That’s why I don’t promise clients that they won’t feel something. I only promise that I will hold it with care, name it if needed, and never exploit it.
Final Thoughts from the Massage Table
Professional touch isn’t about pretending we’re robots. It’s about showing up with presence, clarity, and a commitment to not run from the messiness.
Because let’s be real—touch stirs things. Sometimes, it stirs arousal. Sometimes, grief. Sometimes a confusing blend of both, wrapped up in memories you didn’t know were still in your tissues.
“Touch invites us to feel. And feeling isn’t always tidy.”
But that’s where the gold is.
So no, professional touch isn’t always 100% platonic in a sanitized, emotionless sense. But it can be sacred, safe, and profoundly respectful—even in its complexity.
And that, I think, is more honest. And far more healing.
Want to explore the power of safe, sacred touch for men?
Book a clarity call at www.TrevorJamesLA.com or schedule directly at www.tidycal.com/trevorjames/30-minute-meeting. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to be held.