Pleased to meet you.
I spent nearly thirty years producing large-scale live events: the kind where everything has to work at exactly the right moment, thousands of people are watching, and there is no version of the night where you get a second take. I was good at it. I was also, for most of those years, completely disconnected from my own body.
That sounds like a strange confession from someone who now works in touch and intimacy. But I think it's actually the most relevant thing I can tell you about why I do this work.
The disruption that ended that career, arriving in late 2018 with very little warning, turned out to be one of the more instructive things that has ever happened to me. It created a pause I hadn't asked for and didn't particularly want. In that pause, I found my way to touch therapy, and then to Tantra, and then to the realization that the thing I had been producing all those years, the thing audiences came for, the aliveness, the presence, the sense that something real was happening in the room, was available to people in a completely different context. A quieter one. A more intimate one. One where the only production was the session itself, and the only audience was the man sitting across from me.
I've been doing this work for eight years. In that time I've sat with men of every orientation, background, and chapter of life. Gay men, bisexual men, straight men, and men who are still figuring out what word, if any, fits them. Men in their twenties who are already exhausted by the performance of desire. Men in their sixties who are meeting their own bodies, maybe for the first time, with something approaching kindness.
What I bring to every session is the same thing: full attention, genuine warmth, clear boundaries, and no agenda other than what we've agreed to together.
Why This Work
Sacred intimacy found me at a moment when I was being asked, not gently, to reconsider almost everything. What I wanted. What I had been performing. What I actually needed versus what I had been trained to want.
I discovered that the body holds things the mind has long since moved on from. That erotic energy, when it's welcomed rather than managed, is less a problem to be solved and more a source of information, vitality, and even joy. That shame, which I had seen quietly shape so many men's relationships with themselves, dissolves faster in the presence of someone who simply refuses to be shocked by you.
That became the work. Not fixing men. Not leading them somewhere they haven't asked to go. But creating enough safety, enough warmth, enough genuine presence, that they could find their own way back to themselves.
I trained formally in touch and cuddle therapy and Tantra, and I continue to study. But the more honest credential is the years of sitting with men in this particular kind of openness, learning what helps, what hinders, what a person actually needs when they finally stop pretending they don't need anything at all.
What to expect from me
I am not a blank screen. I have a personality, a sense of humor, and opinions about most things. I am warm and I will put you at ease fairly quickly, which I am told is one of the more useful things I do.
I am also rigorous about the container. Clear communication before, during, and after sessions is not a formality. It's the foundation that makes everything else possible. Nothing happens without your awareness and your agreement. Your boundaries are not obstacles to the work; they are part of it.
I work with men of all ages of majority, sexual orientations, and body types. I do not have a type. I do not have a preference for a particular kind of client or a particular kind of story. I have seen enough to be genuinely unshockable, and I mean that as an invitation rather than a boast.
What I ask of you is simple: some willingness, some basic honesty about what you're looking for, and enough trust to show up. Everything else we can build from there.
My formal training includes certification as a Touch and Cuddle Therapist, a Diploma in Massage Therapy, and a Diploma in Tantra. These credentials represent specific bodies of knowledge I return to regularly, but they exist in service of something that can't be certified: the ability to be genuinely present with another person and to hold what they bring without flinching.
Eight years of practice has been its own education.
If you'd like to talk before you decide, the free 15-minute Clarity Call is a good place to start. No pressure, no performance required. Just a real conversation.