Meet Trevor James | Touch & Intimacy Therapist

We had the good fortune of connecting with Trevor James and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Trevor, can you walk us through the thought-process of starting your business?
Starting a touch and intimacy business wasn’t something I always planned. It was something I felt my way into.

I used to be an event producer and director, working on large-scale entertainment and corporate events. Think high-stress deadlines, endless logistics, constant travel, and never enough sleep. I was great at it, but over time, it started to take a toll. When the company I was working with shut down the Los Angeles operations that I was leading, I had a choice: jump right back into the same hustle… or pause and ask myself, What do I really want to be doing with my life?

That pause changed everything.

Around that time, I came across an article about touch therapy. I still remember how it stopped me in my tracks. The idea that healing, comfort, and transformation could happen through something as simple, and as profound, as human touch? I was fascinated. I dove deep into the research, took trainings, and eventually became certified in touch and cuddle therapy.

That’s when everything started to click.

I realized I didn’t just want a job that paid the bills. I wanted to do something that felt meaningful…something where I could see the direct impact of my work on real people’s lives. And I decided to focus on working with men. Why? Because men are, on the whole, far more touch-deprived than women. Our culture doesn’t make space for men to receive nurturing, non-sexual touch, or to feel safe being vulnerable. I wanted to change that.

So I built a practice from the ground up. One session at a time. One man at a time. And now, every day, I get to do work that’s not only deeply rewarding. It feels like coming home to myself.

Can you give our readers an introduction to your business? Maybe you can share a bit about what you do and what sets you apart from others?
What I do is more than just a business — it’s a calling. I created this practice to support men in reconnecting with themselves through touch, intimacy, and sexuality and spirituality. We live in a world where men are often taught to suppress their emotions, stay guarded, and keep their distance. My work helps to gently undo all of that. Through services like massage therapy, cuddle therapy, retreats, workshops and intimacy coaching, I create safe, judgment-free spaces where men can feel nurtured, accepted, and truly seen, often for the first time in their lives.

What sets me apart is the way I approach this work. It’s not clinical, and it’s not mechanical. It’s soulful, intuitive, and heart-centered. I bring together everything I’ve learned from my background in high-pressure event production to my training in touch therapy and pour it into an experience that’s deeply human. My clients aren’t just receiving a service: they’re being invited into connection, healing, and self-acceptance.

One of the biggest challenges was stepping into a new and relatively unknown field that’s still misunderstood by many. Talking openly about touch, intimacy, sexuality, and emotional vulnerability, especially in the context of men can be uncomfortable. But I’ve learned that discomfort is often a doorway to truth. I’ve also learned that being authentic and staying grounded in my “why” makes all the difference. People feel it. They respond to it.

I recently published my new book On Being Seen: Chronicles of a Touch and Intimacy Therapist (available on Amazon) that talks about my “why”, through the stories of various men I’ve seen in my practice. The book also outlines my thoughts on masculinity, vulnerability, intimacy, and touch, and it proposes new cultural concepts.

What I want the world to know about my practice is this: I’m helping redefine what it means to be a man. We’re rewriting the story of masculinity to include softness, presence, connection, and care. If there’s one message I hope comes through in everything I do, it’s this: you are worthy of love, of touch, of being fully human, just as you are. This work isn’t just about healing individuals. It’s about healing a culture.

And I’m so proud to be part of that shift.

Let’s say your best friend was visiting the area and you wanted to show them the best time ever. Where would you take them? Give us a little itinerary – say it was a week long trip, where would you eat, drink, visit, hang out, etc.
What I love about LA is how it holds contradictions: it’s both high-glamour and deeply spiritual, chaotic and grounding, fast-paced and filled with hidden corners of peace. The people here are dreamers, creatives, healers, and weirdos in the best way possible. It’s the kind of place where you can reinvent yourself every day. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

We’d start by soaking in one of LA’s most iconic views standing at the top of Griffith Observatory as the sun sets over the sprawling city, the skyline glowing gold, the energy buzzing below. It’s the kind of moment that makes you feel both small and limitless.

Over the next few days, I’d show them the artistic side of LA. We’d wander LACMA and the Broad Museum and lose ourselves in immersive installations, then grab a bite at Grand Central Market—tacos, ramen, Thai street food, whatever calls to us.

We would also pick a show to watch at the Ahmanson, the Geffen Playhouse, the Hollywood Bowl, Disney Hall, or the Pantages. Indulging in the performance arts is one of the reasons I love Los Angeles.

Of course, we’d need a beach day. Venice Beach for the spectacle: street performers, skaters, murals, and a bike ride up to Santa Monica for nostalgia and ocean air.

But LA isn’t just about outward entertainment. It’s also a place for inward journeys. I’d take them to a morning sound bath at DEN Meditation or a Naked Warrior yoga class, then for quiet reflection in the Self-Realization Fellowship gardens, where everything slows down.

For a more playful, community-centered experience, we’d dive into LA’s queer nightlife. Akbar for the divey charm and dance floor joy, or Precinct for something a little rowdier and fabulously weird. LA’s LGBTQ+ spaces have a spirit of celebration and resilience that’s completely infectious.

Dinner in LA’s tallest building at La Boucherie, dressed up and leaning into LA’s more polished side. A drink on the rooftop at Perch, looking out over the city lights, letting it all soak in.

And before they leave, I’d slow it down again. Maybe a long soak and steam at WiSpa. Something to ground them before they go. And of course, we’d end with street tacos from a proper food truck because that’s how you really close out a week in LA.

What I’d want them to leave with isn’t just a camera roll of cool spots. I’d want them to feel the spirit of this city — the tension between hustle and healing, the artistry that lives in the food, the music, the touch, the people. LA is what you make of it, but it also has a way of reflecting back who you are and who you’re becoming. And that, to me, is what makes it unforgettable.

Who else deserves some credit and recognition?
There are two key sources I want to give a big shoutout to. The first is an article I stumbled upon in The Guardian—a piece about touch therapy that completely cracked open my thinking. It was one of those moments where you read something and feel like it’s speaking directly to you. That article planted a seed, and honestly, it changed the course of my life. It was the first time I saw touch framed not just as something we take for granted, but as something vital—especially for men, who so rarely get to experience nurturing, non-sexual touch in their everyday lives.

The second shoutout goes to the classic career guidebook What Color Is Your Parachute? suggested to me by my friend Dave. That book was like a compass during a time when I was feeling pretty lost. It helped me slow down, reflect on my values, and really ask myself what kind of work would feel meaningful—not just profitable. The exercises in that book guided me toward something more aligned with who I am at my core.

So to Dave, The Guardian article that sparked my curiosity, and to What Color Is Your Parachute? for giving me a map—I owe you all more than a few thank-yous. You helped me find my way home.

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