Touch is a basic human need. That’s not an opinion. It’s biology. From the moment we’re born, touch is how we learn safety, warmth, and comfort. Babies thrive when held, stroked, and gently rocked. Kids learn boundaries and empathy through hugs, hand-holding, pats on the back, and even playful tickles. Touch regulates stress, releases oxytocin, and is foundational to our capacity for connection throughout life. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way, we’ve managed to socially program men to fear this most fundamental human expression.
I’ve thought about this a lot especially with Kev and I, in our exploration of intimacy, have had to actively unlearn the ways touch has been siloed and gendered. And the more I think about it, the more I get frustrated but not at men, not at women, but at the way our culture teaches men that touch is a privilege for women, a danger to masculinity, and that the only “acceptable” touch for men is either rough, transactional, or sexual. It is dangerous for our society.
The Gentle Standard for Women
From a young age, girls are allowed and encouraged to seek touch from each other. Think about it, a little girl can cuddle a friend, hold hands with another girl, rest her head on her mother’s shoulder, or receive a kiss on the cheek without fear of judgment. Girls learn that comfort is acceptable, that softness and gentle touch is nurturing, and that expressing warmth and love through touch is normal. These small, soft interactions become a template for how women interact with the world and how they expect to experience intimacy in adulthood.
A pat on the back, a hug between friends, a gentle hand on the arm are all socially sanctioned forms of touch are seen as benign, sweet, or even necessary for girls. Women grow up understanding that their physical needs for connection can be met through non-sexual touch. The world doesn’t tell them that seeking touch makes them weak or undesirable. On the contrary, it tells them that being emotionally open, warm, and receptive is part of being human and part of being female.
This extends into adulthood, too. Women can have girlfriends who hold them, comfort them, or stroke their hair. They can receive hugs after a hard day, kisses for reassurance, even cuddles just because. These interactions aren’t sexualized in the way men’s would be; they’re natural extensions of care. And that’s a privilege that men rarely get to experience.
The acceptance of bisexuality is also based on gendered perceptions of intimacy and touch. While women are permitted to express affection and share soft, non-sexual touch with multiple individuals. This disparity not only limits men’s opportunities for platonic intimacy but also reinforces the notion that their worth is tied solely to sexual performance and heterosexual relationships. Consequently, men may feel compelled to suppress or deny their bisexual attractions, fearing judgment or a perceived threat to their masculinity. In contrast, women, especially in younger generations, are more likely to identify as bisexual. This difference may be attributed to the greater social acceptance of female bisexuality and the freedom women have to explore and express their sexual fluidity without facing the same level of stigma or erasure that bisexual men encounter. As a result, many men internalize the message that their need for touch and emotional connection is secondary to their sexual identity, leading to a cycle of emotional isolation and unfulfilled intimacy. The whole thing makes me sad because it should be so simple, touch everyone and love everyone.
The Rough Standard for Men
Men, on the other hand, are socialized into a very different world. From the moment they learn to walk and talk, the subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages start: boys don’t cry, boys don’t ask for hugs, boys don’t show affection toward each other. When they do, it’s either mocked, minimized, or sexualized. A kiss on the cheek from another boy? Potentially “gay.” Holding hands with a friend? Defective. Gentle, tender touches are erased from men’s lives as a social risk.
Instead, the physical needs of men are funneled almost exclusively into rough contact or sex. High-fives, bro-hugs, back slaps, even friendly punches — these are fine. But these interactions are transactional or performative. They are not nurturing. They don’t release oxytocin the same way a gentle, deliberate touch does. They don’t comfort. They don’t reassure. They only signal masculinity.
And this is the problem: men are biologically wired for touch just as much as women are. They need it to regulate stress, form attachment, and feel safe. But society tells them that seeking that touch makes them weak. So instead, men grow up starved for the very thing that keeps human beings emotionally and physically healthy: connection through touch.
The layer of complexity and frustration is that men’s touch needs are overwhelmingly redirected into sexual outlets. The only socially acceptable way for a man to fulfill his craving for connection is through sex. Anything short of that a hug, a gentle caress, holding a hand is either ignored or stigmatized or only recognized as a precursor to sex.
Think about the consequences. Women are expected to meet men’s sexual needs but not their need for touch. If a man wants a soft, comforting interaction from his wife that isn’t sexual, he is often dismissed. He is told that he is being needy, clingy, or somehow less masculine. In contrast, a woman can get her physical comfort met in dozens of ways that have nothing to do with a man’s penis, and society will cheer her for it.
This leaves men in a double bind. Their basic human need for touch is denied, and their primary sanctioned outlet is sexual. It’s no wonder that some men become frustrated, confused, or resentful. It’s no wonder that erectile disfunction is at an all time high, the pressure they must feel to “get it up” or forego their need for touch must be overwhelming. They aren’t failing, they’ve been set up to fail by a cultural script that says touch is dangerous unless it leads to ejaculation, conquest, or dominance.
One of the most powerful lessons Kev and I have learned from our relationship with Erik is how touch can exist fully and lovingly within a masculine framework without being sexualized. There’s no “ick factor” when Kev touches Erik or Erik touches Kev, it’s simply a way of acknowledging presence, offering comfort, and connecting physically. We’ll lay in bed together, bodies naturally brushing, arms draped over shoulders, hands resting gently wherever they land, and it’s entirely about care and intimacy, not sex. That simple act allowing ourselves to touch each other freely, regardless of gender has been transformative. Freedom of touch has taught us that touch and sexual intimacy are separate languages, and that learning to speak one fluently without conflating it with the other opens doors to emotional depth, trust, and a sense of safety that’s rare in a world that tells men to tough it out. Boys don’t cry. Be a man.
This is about getting angry and calling out the culture we’ve created for men. Women are victims of these social rules, too, though in a different way. Women are expected to provide sexual satisfaction without necessarily receiving emotional or platonic touch from men. Women are often framed as the emotional providers in relationships, tasked with being nurturing, intuitive, and available for connection, but without necessarily having their own sensual or comforting needs met by male partners. Traditionally, women are expected to be providers of emotional comfort and physical comfort while men are expected to be financial providers.
Men and women are trained into a mismatch. Women are allowed non-sexual touch, comfort, and physical closeness and men are taught that touch equals weakness unless it is sexual or dominant. Then men grow up expecting sex to be some wonderful thing that will satisfy all physical and emotional needs, and women are asked to provide that while society’s systemic mismatch gives women a wider menu of non-sexual comfort.
Couples everywhere complain about unmet needs, men complaining about frigid partners, women complaining about self-absorbed men. But if you zoom out, it’s not that men are incapable of intimacy or that women are cold. It’s that the framework we gave them to understand touch and comfort was incomplete, narrow, and cruel. Their framework of touch minimizes their experience as humans.
Redefining Connection
This is something Kev and I have spent a lot of time exploring. Our relationship isn’t just sexual, it’s emotional, physical, and dynamic. And because we’ve experimented with male chastity and other forms of non-sexual touch, we’ve discovered something important: intimacy does not require sex.
Kev can crave touch, closeness, and reassurance without it needing to be sexual. He can hold my hand, get a hug, curl up with me, or receive a gentle kiss on the cheek, and it satisfies his need for touch without triggering shame or inadequacy. Those simple acts release oxytocin, build attachment, and provide comfort in ways sex alone can never fully replicate.
In our home, we work on touch as a language. Not just the sexualized kind, but gentle, soft, everyday touch that communicates care and love. A brush of the arm, a playful squeeze, a quiet cuddle on the couch. These moments matter more than a sexual encounter. They affirm that the physical human need for closeness can exist outside of performance, dominance, or sexual utility.
When intimacy is primarily framed through sex, it can set men up to view each other as rivals rather than collaborators. Men are socially conditioned to see sexual access as zero sum if one man experiences closeness with a woman, another man “loses.” In contrast, women often experience touch differently, she might not want sex with anyone on a given night, but she can share soft, non-sexual touch with many, freely and without competition. She often won’t because it can lead to unmet expectations or “leading him on” while it could be the meal and the dessert too.
The difference can breed jealousy or contempt among unevolved men who haven’t learned that touch doesn’t have to be scarce or competitive. Soft, gentle touch, when it happens naturally, tends to be reciprocal and grows organically. It’s a language of care and connection that rewards openness, trust, and generosity rather than staking territory, the exact opposite of the adversarial mindset sex often encourages.
Encouraging Touch
One of the most powerful shifts we can make as a society is helping men understand that touch is a need, not a want, and that seeking it is not a betrayal of masculinity. Boys should learn that hugs, kisses on the cheek, and gentle touches from friends, family, or partners are completely acceptable. They should learn that touch does not make them weak, effeminate, or less of a man.
And men should also learn to recognize the difference between sex as desire and touch as need. Sex is wonderful, pleasurable, and bonding in its own right, but it’s a want. Touch is a need. It regulates mood, reduces stress, and creates a baseline of emotional security. The confusion between these two needs — which we’ve internalized from childhood — is the source of much unnecessary frustration in adult relationships.
For women, this can be liberating too. Understanding that a man’s need for touch is not about conquest or entitlement can open up new ways of connecting that are mutually satisfying, non-pressured, and emotionally resonant. It allows both partners to enjoy intimacy without sex being the only metric of relational closeness. An hour of intimate touch may make him feel loved while twenty minutes of sex may leave you both feel empty and hollow.
The Cost of Missing Touch
What happens when men grow up without healthy outlets for touch? Beyond personal frustration, the consequences ripple through relationships, families, and communities. Men may:
- Oversexualize interactions, thinking that sex is the only acceptable outlet for physical closeness.
- Suppress emotion and avoid vulnerability, leading to higher rates of anxiety, depression, and isolation. Frustration from unmet needs can make men quick to become angry or violent.
- Misinterpret women’s boundaries or friendliness because they lack experience with non-sexual touch.
- View intimacy as conditional, transactional, or competitive rather than nurturing and reciprocal.
It’s not that men want less intimacy than women; they’ve just been taught a very narrow, inadequate framework for meeting it. And that, in turn, fuels misunderstandings, relational tension, and emotional disconnects.
The good news is that this imbalance of touch can be fixed, not overnight, but deliberately, consciously, and consistently. Some practical ways to start:
- Normalize platonic touch for men. Encourage hand-holding, long gentle hugs, and cheek kisses among male friends and family. Model it for children.
- Separate sex from comfort. Teach that touch is valuable and fulfilling even without sexual connotation. Male chastity is the perfect tool to help reframe intimate touch as something completely separate for sex. Touch can lead to touch but when it doesn’t lead to sex, it isn’t a failure of some kind.
- Communicate openly about physical needs. Couples should talk about touch just like they talk about emotional needs. Ask, “Do you want a hug? A hand on your shoulder? A cuddle on the couch?”
- Introduce gentle rituals. Even small acts such as stroking the arm while watching TV, brushing hair back, a forehead kiss, these reinforce the language of touch.
- Challenge the stereotypes. Call out statements like “real men don’t hug” or “boys don’t cry.” Replace them with acknowledgment that vulnerability and touch are signs of health, not weakness.
Kev and I have built these into our life, and it’s transformed not just our physical intimacy but our emotional resilience. There’s a sense of security and trust that grows when men and women can meet their needs for touch safely and consistently — without sex being the default or the only outlet.
Redirection Not Blame
I’m frustrated by this state of affairs, but not at men. Men didn’t create these rules. They inherited them. The problem isn’t their fault, but it is their burden. And it’s ours collectively to offer them permission to reclaim this most human need without shame.
Imagine a world where boys grow up understanding that gentle touch is good, comforting, and necessary. A world where men and women can both experience nurturing, sensual, non-sexual touch daily. Imagine relationships where intimacy isn’t measured by orgasms or conquest, but by presence, attention, and physical reassurance. That’s not just better for men. It’s better for everyone.
Touch is a human right. Not a luxury. Not a favor. A need. And yet, men are taught to live without it — or worse, to associate it exclusively with sex, dominance, or weakness. Women grow up with the freedom to seek comfort, to experience non-sexual touch, to enjoy the wide spectrum of physical intimacy that nurtures, heals, and connects. Men deserve that too.
Kev and I have learned that intimacy can be rich, profound, and fulfilling without ever being sexual. Gentle touch, affectionate gestures, and simple acts of physical reassurance create bonds that are deeper than anything purely sexual could provide. And in teaching men and society that touch is normal, healthy, and essential, we can finally change the imbalance that has left so many men starved for the most basic human need. I love men and it’s time to stop telling men that seeking touch is weakness. It’s time to tell them it’s human. Because it is.
Evolving the Conversation
- How have societal expectations around masculinity shaped your understanding of physical touch, and what would you change if you could re-teach these norms to boys today?
- In your relationships, have you noticed a difference between sexual intimacy and non-sexual touch? How do these two forms of connection affect emotional closeness?
- What are some ways couples can intentionally create opportunities for non-sexual touch, and how might that change the dynamic in long-term relationships?
- How do you think the lack of socially acceptable touch for men contributes to misunderstandings about female sexuality or perceptions of “frigid” partners?
- If we started viewing touch as a basic human need rather than a sexual privilege, how might that reshape dating, marriage, and broader social norms around intimacy?
