Dear Fantz:

Undoubtedly you have heard of this, but we have just become aware of cuddling services. Apparently, you can just sign up and be matched with someone who will cuddle with you. It says they will find you a cuddle buddy with no further expectations? The picture shows a couple, a guy and a girl in this case, watching a television show, I presume, just cuddling. Can you confirm that this is legit? Is there an age limit? Do you have to watch TV?



The companion services exist, but put your dong away because most of them are for platonic cuddling only.

I’d wager it’s for those age 18 and older, so customers are legal and can get (salad) tossed in the clink in case of potential assault.

TV? I don’t know. You could probably jam out to Yanni instead, but I’m not in the snuggle biz, so I’ll leave it up to you to research logistics.

This nouveau niche began when practitioners found that the sport reaps the endorphin-boosting benefits of human touch without genital smashing. So the professional companions are basically cats without histamine explosion. (I speak for myself.) The professional snuggler platonically cuddles for cash, while the snugglee gains companionship, hugs and possibly a boner.

People say it’s healing. I say it’s fabulous. Some hate human touch, but their mothers probably beat them with oranges.

When ordering a snuggler, there are strict rules. Sure, you’re paying money to rub up on a stranger, but there is absolutely no humping, no sniffing hineys. No fondling, no kissing, no nudity. No fingering buttholes. Bikini areas are off-limits.

Although, like late-night neon “massage” joints, West Colfax bathhouses and John Travolta’s starfish, I imagine there are varying levels of participation. For instance, if Mr. Snugglee makes it rain quarters for his professional cuddler — who, say, daylights as a newspaper features reporter — perhaps he could get a rub-and-tug under a motel’s bedbug-ridden covers. He gets a happy ending and the journalist scores Taco Bell scratch.

But most of these cuddle services are steadfast with rules, so if you Harvey Weinstein the regulations, you could go to jail. (Could go to jail. It depends on what distorted flavor of justice your state abides by. Alabama, for example, could Matt Lauer the fuck out of things while Roy Moore watches with popcorn.)

But do note that human touch is known to release the powerful oxytocin — the hunk-a hunk-a burnin’ love hormone (scientific term) — so an otherwise platonic cuddle sesh could inadvertently pop that boner that even baseball and grandma can’t subdue.

If this natural occurrence happens, you may find yourself asking the question: “I’m spooning this lovely person and now my dick is touching her ass. What do I do?”

The answer is simple: Walk it off. Switch positions. Take a breather. You paid for a service that does not include jamming your dick inside an unwilling participant. If these are not viable options, get Backpage on the horn or cruise Colfax strip malls after midnight for neon “open” signs.

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