Halfway through my semester of Western Massage 1 in 2015, I walked into class 15 minutes late. Everyone I knew was already paired up to practice massaging each other's legs. A guy named Ron, a personal trainer with muscles braided like challah and a handsome smile, looked relieved when he saw me and asked if we could work together. The idea of undressing and being caressed by a man I didn't know seemed risky. I was squeamish enough doing that with women. But I didn't want to come off as prudish, so I said okay.
I had enrolled in massage class at the Pacific College of Health and Science as part of my research for a book on the sense of touch, but also to help heal my own aversion. Ever since childhood, I'd never been at ease throwing my arms around someone or holding their hand when they're upset. I was hoping that touching strangers in the course would help me get over whatever I feared.
Ron held a sheet over my body as I wriggled out of black sweatpants, a Pacific College T-shirt, and a bra. I hadn't shaved in a week, so I cringed as he uncovered my right leg. He felt me tense up and placed his hands gently on my lower back. It was sweet of him, and it made me question what I was so afraid of, especially in a roomful of people. Why had I come to equate any touch, particularly a man's, with danger? As Ron continued, I calmed myself by recognizing he was just a student learning a lesson; my body may as well have been a textbook. Soon I fell asleep on the table.
I've been thinking about that day recently, as I've heard the different ways people predict we'll behave when the COVID-19 pandemic is behind us. Some think we will come out of this period valuing human contact more than ever, and envision a magical time when we'll give hugs to strangers. It's appealing to hope that tough times will push us to cling to each other, but what massage school taught me is that our unconscious scripts about touch can make us override this instinct, especially after long periods of keeping our distance.
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