Let’s talk about intimacy without penetration.
I know it sounds almost counter-intuitive in a world where intimacy and sex have become synonyms. But when we reduce intimacy to what happens between our legs, we abandon the rest of our bodies. We ignore the acres of skin desperate to be touched, explored, and remembered. Our sexual organs get all the attention while the rest of us sits in the dark, holding stress in our shoulders, tension in our jaw, loneliness in our palms.
Touch is exploration, yes, but there’s so much more to your body than the obvious places.
It is your duty to explore as much of it as you can.
The Body Remembers
Think about the last time someone hugged you. Really hugged you – not the quick, social kind, but the kind where you sink into someone and feel your nervous system exhale. Or when someone kissed your neck, slowly, and your entire spine responded. When they massaged your feet on the sofa, or worked their thumbs into your lower back, and suddenly you could breathe deeper.
Your body remembers these moments because touch doesn’t just feel good, it resets you. Studies show that intentional touch lowers cortisol, releases oxytocin, and can even improve memory function. Your body keeps the score, yes, but it also keeps the relief. The moments when someone’s hands reminded you that you’re safe, that you’re held, that you matter.
But we often stop there. Neck, shoulders, back, feet – the usual suspects. What about everything else?
Have you ever had someone trace the back of your knees? That soft, vulnerable crease that rarely gets attention? Or the inner elbow, where your skin is thin and sensitive? What about earlobes, gently pulled or nibbled? Collar bones, traced with fingertips or lips? That spot at the top of your sternum – press it, rub small circles there, and feel how much tension you’ve been holding without realising it.
Your palms. When was the last time someone really massaged your palms? Slow and deliberate pressure worked into the meat of your hand. Or pulling your toes and fingers, one by one, the way someone probably did when you were a child, and everything was fun.
These places exist, they’re waiting, and they hold more than you think.
Types of Touch That Matter
Not all touch is the same. There’s firm touch that grounds you, and reminds you where your body ends and the world begins. Deep pressure, like a weighted blanket, or strong hands working into muscle. This is the touch that tells your nervous system it’s safe to let go.
Then there’s light touch – barely there fingertips, trailing across skin. The kind that wakes up nerve endings you forgot existed, and makes you hyperaware of every inch of yourself. It’s maddening and beautiful and necessary.
There’s rhythmic touch – rocking, swaying, repetitive strokes that lull you into a meditative state. And static touch – just holding. A hand resting on your chest. Someone’s body pressed against yours, unmoving, breathing together.
Each type serves a purpose. Each one can unlock something different.
Creating the Space
Touch doesn’t happen in a vacuum. The environment matters. A harsh overhead light will keep you alert, guarded. But soft lighting 0 lamps, candles, warm tones 0 signals to your body that it can soften. That it’s allowed to be vulnerable.
Sound matters too. Silence can be too loud. But soft acoustics, instrumental music, nature sounds – these create a container for intimacy. They give you something to fall into.
Temperature. Texture. A warm room tells your body it doesn’t need to brace against the cold. Soft fabrics – cotton, linen, silk – feel different against skin than polyester or rough weave. Materials matter. Oils and lotions change the quality of touch, making it smoother, more intentional.
When you make a room a sanctuary, you’re not just setting a mood – you’re telling your nervous system that this space is different. That here, you’re allowed to drop your armour. That here, your body can remember (or learn) what it feels like to be cared for.
The Body Holds Everything
Your body holds pressure. Stress. Trauma. Memories you can’t quite name. But it also releases dopamine when touched with care. It produces oxytocin – the bonding hormone – when you’re held. It helps you sleep deeper. It can even give you better sex.
When you know your body – all of it, not just the obvious parts – you bring that awareness into everything. You understand what you need. What feels good. What your body has been asking for all along.
You owe it to yourself to have a better relationship with your body. To explore the landscape of yourself beyond the peak. To remember that intimacy isn’t just what happens in the dark with your eyes closed, and your mouth is open – it’s what happens when you’re fully present, fully felt, and fully here.
That’s what Something Slower is about. Intentional, consistent, explorative touch.
The kind that reminds you that you’re more than one part. That you’re whole.
To read about my personal experience with a night of sensual touch, head over to my blog: Just Touch Me, Please: The Night That Changed My Life
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