By Ayushi Murli
For someone who hates being touched, dating feels a lot like being an out-of-place cactus in an overcrowded local: Theres absolutely no way you or your companion can get comfortable. The hardest part is explaining to people that its neither a condition nor a disease.
I’ve hated being touched for as long as I can remember. Growing up, family gatherings with more than 10 relatives under one roof were the stuff my nightmares were made of. The mere thought of them rushing in to hug me would immediately send me scurrying in the other direction sadly, all exits points would be blocked by my noisy relatives. So Id awkwardly smile and reluctantly give them a side-hug, hurriedly doing a five-second mental countdown before freeing myself of their clutches.
Initially, I didnt think much of my obvious discomfort with physical affection; maybe I was just allergic to over-enthusiastic relatives. Over time, I discovered I was the exact opposite of Katrina Kaif gyrating to Zara zara touch me. Where other people experience butterflies in their stomach at the thought of cuddling, I only cringe. Just my luck, then, to land a family of huggers and friends who hold hands and high-five more often than the number of flops in Uday Chopras career.
For a long time, I thought that Id survived the worst. And then I started dating.
What no one tells you about dating as someone who hates being touched, is that you will have no choice but to constantly be on alert mode. Itll feel a lot like being an out-of-place cactus in an overcrowded local: Theres absolutely no way you or anyone around you can feel comfortable. The hardest part is explaining to people that its not a condition or a disease: Its not like I dont want to express affection. Its just that my body is still trying to find a way to.
Whats worse is that a lot of dates tend to take my hesitation with physical intimacy as a personal insult. Or worse, as a challenge.
Like Mia in Princess Diaries, even Id imagined that my first kiss was going to be magical. Except it was the worst, for reasons beyond my control. Even though Id naively believed that I was ready for it, the constant anxiety coupled with the fear of being touched made me shiver and keep my eyes open until my boyfriend had to ask me not to. Not only did it completely take away the spontaneity and charm away from the much hyped first kiss, but I also didnt have a good time. And the worst part is, how I felt that day is how I continue to feel about kissing.
In the age of puppy love and innocent teenage romance, this discomfort with physical affection didnt affect the outcome of my relationships as severely as it does now. Back then, we were all just curious kids having fun and having a boyfriend was a big deal in the first place. At that time, nobody was looking at intimacy as a contest.
But now, when we have willingly adopted the DTF lifestyle, physical intimacy is the end-all of dating. Apps might have democratised dating, but for someone like me, its especially hard to get into relationships when youre unsure about what youre ready to do and how far you can go. As I found out in the last few years, I could be ready to kiss someone but at the same time be extremely uncomfortable about him being on top of me. Its an unfortunate reality but normal declarations of love like an affectionate peck on the cheek, consensual foreplay, or something as lovely as holding hands with a crush, fails to elicit any feeling other than fear.
Whats worse is that a lot of dates tend to take my hesitation with physical intimacy as a personal insult. Or worse, as a challenge. Its resulted in a string of bad experiences that ensured that I look at my inability to display affection as a defect.
Its only in the last four years that Ive started warming up to the idea. Now hugs dont scare me not even with men (although Im much more comfortable around women). But I also cant help but compensate for my lack of physical affection by emotionally showing people that I love them. Over the last 10 years however, Ive realised one thing: Sex might be out of my reach, but hugs can be more therapeutic than Id guessed.
This article was originally published in Arré.
Ayushi Murli would love to believe that she has a great sense of humour, except it takes someone with an absolutely terrible humour to understand her jokes. After watching and re-watching Mean Girls about a million times, she now successfully remembers all the dialogues.