At Snuggle Buddies, most of Becky Rodrigues’s clients are a mix of single and married men in their 40s and 50s. She also sees some younger men, who are in their 20s and usually have religious backgrounds that made them feel shameful about human touch. Rodrigues thinks that she sees so few women coming in because women are more likely to believe that affection “isn’t real if you have to pay for it.” She thinks that women have an easier time satisfying their need for physical touch from friends, because it’s more socially acceptable than for men.

Like a therapist that enters the profession to deal with his or her own problems, a number of cuddlers went into the business out of their own isolation and need for contact. Hess had married her high-school sweetheart, only to find herself divorced and lost at 28. Carp, who started Snuggle Buddies in 2013, had spent six years suffering from depression and chronic pain. He felt isolated from people and spent most of his days on the computer, alone. Most of his social contact was limited to seeing doctors. Both Hess and Carp longed for more warmth and touch. Hess remembers thinking at the time, "Why isn't there a Starbucks for hugs?"

Rosenbaum got the idea for RentAFriend from a similar service operating in Japan, where social isolation is more common than in the U.S. and where there are special cafes where lonely customers can drink coffee in the company of stuffed animals. Rosenbaum thought there were enough lonely Americans that the idea would work in the U.S. as well. With the proliferation of dating websites, he figured the format of browsing online profiles was already familiar to most people. His hunch bore out and these days RentAFriend brings in annual revenues "in the seven-figure range," Rosenbaum says.

While being a rental friend can be a relaxing experience, the work of a cuddler can be draining. There are nights Hess comes home crying, unable to bear all of the heavy things she heard throughout the day. She carries several T-shirts with her on the job, in case clients cry on her. She limits herself to no more than five hours a day of cuddling work and often comes home to her boyfriend spent, seeking the affection she has been giving all day to others.

It does not help that some people are surprisingly dismissive of, or even upset with, Hess and her work. She says she regularly receives hate mail and even death threats. In an average week, she estimates, she gets around 30 emails telling her she is an awful person. The people writing these notes are often devoutly religious and angry that she is promoting close touch outside of marriage. Others accuse her service of being a cover for prostitution. Still others tell her she is monetizing love and ruining the world through her practice.

And of course there are the safety concerns. Rodrigues says she is good at detecting when people think that because she’s cuddling with them, it can lead to something else. Acutely aware of the risks, Carp has his cuddlers, Rodrigues among them, check in before and right after a session and logs the addresses of clients in a database. One RentAFriend I talked to told me that to prevent clients from making any moves, she says up front on her profile that she is in a relationship, and cuts off clients from repeat meetings if she thinks they get the wrong idea.