The girl opposite looked thoughtful for a second before asking, "Can I cuddle you?" I smiled awkwardly – we hadn't even been properly introduced: "No."
Together with four others, in the unlikely location of West Hampstead, we were participating in the latest import from the States – the Cuddle Party.
My snub wasn't necessarily a refusal to join in. We were just at the early stages: practising handling rejection. The goal was to break down some of the feelings of rejection which our hosts claimed we have carried with us since youth.
"Britain is ready for a cuddle party even if it doesn't know it," our "cuddle caddie" Jude said. "I think our society here needs to rediscover touch. It's something that has got lost in that cold British reserve."
People touch on average around 180 times in an hour in a normal conversation in a coffee shop in Puerto Rico. In Britain we don't touch at all. Jude, a 43-year-old therapist who didn't look a day over 30, says he thinks this reserve has made us deeply unhappy.
"We need to get back in touch with touch," he said.
The "party" started with a welcoming circle where we introduced ourselves and explained why we had decided to come to the event. This was followed by exercises to get people used to asking for a hug and then being rejected. Each exercise started and stopped with the chime of small Buddhist prayer symbols.
But these were just the formalities. The main event kicked off with the "cow tipping exercise", where all of the participants were made to gather together in a circle on their hands and knees and make noises imitating a cow.
This was then followed by the party-goers leaning into each other cheekily so that everyone fell like dominos into a mesh of hair-stroking and hand-holding. Some sat aside, apparently embarrassed.
There were a number of rules that participants have to follow in order to create a space for people to "rediscover nonsexual touch and affection".
The first rule was that pyjamas stay on at all times. According to our "cuddle lifeguard", Sam Cowan, there had been no instances of this rule being broken. She was apparently dubbed a "cuddle lifeguard" since she was there to help anyone if they "got out of their depth."
Another major rule was that people had to ask before they could cuddle someone, what Ms Cowan described as "good cuddle manners".
If sexual desires made an appearance, men were advised to go "have some grapes or crackers". But, despite the assumptions of many participants, lust made no discernable appearance in the course of the afternoon.
One of the participants, Vicky Richmond, 33, said that the non-sexual intimacy had helped her break down many notions about the opposite sex.
The last exercise was the "puppy pile"; where people lay across each other like strips of lasagne.
Ms Webster described the event as a "sentimental non-sexual orgy".
Cuddling is proven to hold many health benefits. Tiffany Field, a health psychologist specialising in touch, claimed that cuddling was similar to massage: "It involves stimulating pressure receptors under the skin which starts a cascade of physiological-biochemical events including reduced stress hormone (cortisol) and increased immune function."
The founders of cuddle party claim that cuddling produces oxytocin – the so-called "love hormone" – which is ostensibly produced through altruistic, caring behaviour. Ms Cowan said that people often leave the parties "with a warm floaty feeling" and "smiling from every cell in their body".
Alex Paul, 28, a stockbroker, said: "Once I let myself go I felt quite invigorated. It was nice to experience giving something without getting something else back in return."
As the event closed and Louis Armstrong's Wonderful World floated out of the stereo, Ms Richmond said dreamily: "It was like Christmas".