Agreed. At least on my part. And my wife’s.
We are now of an age <cough> where intimacy isn’t so much about sex as being together. Close together. Holding hands when walking outside. Holding hands in the car when we commute together. Sitting with my arm around her shoulder in church. Sitting with my arm around her shoulder in a theater (“Honey, the seats are too far apart, you won’t be able to feel your fingers in ten minutes!”) or holding hands in a theater. She walks up to me in the grocery store and we touch foreheads before she gives me a quick kiss.
Sex is nice, but damn it’s too much effort most times! But cuddling on the couch while binging on our current TV show fixation; or snuggling in bed when the window is open and I’ve had to grab another blanket to pull over us; those are the moments when Life is Good. (Plus, nobody ever complained about having to sleep on the cuddle spot. At least not to me.)
Holding my wife’s hand on the drive home is a glass of wine at the end of the work day for me. Damn straight touch matters. Better believe it.