Forty five – Orgasmic Meditation

I plotted the route. I needed to catch a Victoria line train heading south from Highbury and Islington. As I sat on the tube, I studied the map and started to worry. The event had the title: ‘Why Orgasm is better than Climax’. I read and re-read the description and I couldn’t understand a word of it. There were words like ‘practice’ and ‘visceral’. There was also a reference to ‘orgasm’ being a state of being that you could access entirely at will. I was entirely mystified, and I was going to Pimlico. There was also something slightly weird about the address: it was a private apartment.

It took me a few minutes to get my bearings after I arriving at Pimlico station. Following the map on my phone, I found myself amidst a series of extraordinarily expensive looking Georgian terraces and then on a road that revealed art-deco thirties flats. When I reached a junction, I realised where I was: I recognised a government ministry, the Home Office. My destination was an imposing block of flats that was immediately opposite.

There was a concierge service. A flat that has a concierge service always suggests an abundance of money, and I was in a part of London that was stratospherically expensive. I could see the concierge chatting to another man in the reception area. I knocked on the door. The door buzzed open.

‘Who are you here to see?’

I gave him the number of the flat.

‘Do you have their name?’

‘Hold on…’ I fumbled with my phone. I pushed a couple of buttons, opening up the Meetup app.

‘I’m here to see Danielle’.

‘Do you have a full name?’

‘No’

‘Do you have her phone number?’

I told him that all I had was the name and the apartment number.

‘Take a seat. ‘

I did what he said.

The leather chair I sat in looked and smelt very expensive. The other chap in was talking into his mobile phone.

‘I know what he’s here for’ said the man on the phone, breaking off to speak to the concierge, nodding in my direction.

Eventually the concierge let us both go to the third floor. The man on the phone took the lead. We stepped into the elevator.  When we were both inside, I said hello. He was called Nick.

‘I’m here to see Danielle’ I said to Nick, sheepishly. Apparently Nick was going to a different apartment than I was, but was here for ‘a similar reason’.

‘I’m here for the next level. It’s interesting, isn’t it? I mean, it’s all about pushing boundaries and getting outside of your comfort zone’. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

‘Well, I’m, erm, here to find out more about what it’s all about’.

‘You don’t know?’ Nick began to chuckle.

‘I have no idea. I saw it advertised and I decided to come along’

‘Well…’ Nick laughed, ‘you’ll certainly find out tonight!’

When the lift arrived at our floor we were met by a woman called Lydia. Lydia let Nick into an apartment, where he immediately asked where the bathroom was. I was then taken to the living room of a different apartment.

Four guys and one woman sat on a beige corner sofa. Another woman called Sophie sat on a chair in the middle of the room, facing the men. Sophie was in her mid-twenties, wore bright red lipstick, mascara, a loose black top, dark tights, and an exceptionally short skirt. All the guys looked as uncomfortable as I felt. We were, after all, going to be talking about orgasmic meditation. Unfortunately I had missed about fifteen minutes of her talk due to the concierge hiatus.

‘Do you have any questions?’ asked Sophie; she didn’t seem to realise that I didn’t know enough to formulate any.

‘No, not yet. I’ll just listen, for now. I might have some questions in a bit’.

Sophie talked very generally about the benefits that orgasmic meditation can bring. From what she was saying, it seemed to be able to connect to every dimension of your being.

‘What do you want?’ She asked the first man on the sofa.

He replied that he wanted to become more ‘connected’, whatever that meant. Sophie moved to the next chap who spoke in terms of wanting ‘happiness’. Sophie nodded sagely. They spoke about happiness for a bit, what it meant, and that it can lie in many different things and in many different places at the same time. Sophie toyed with the man, accusing him of being a player.

‘How about you?’ It was my turn.

‘Everyone has given really great answers… I really liked what has been said about connectedness and what, erm, he has said about happiness. I guess what I really want is contentment, and that comes from helping people’. I was proud of my answer. ‘I think helping people is a really noble thing to do. It connects with something inside of us’. I looked across the room. The first man had an expression on his face that suggested bafflement.

‘Helping people. Contentment… That’s, yeah… Is that achievable, though? When you’ve found one level of contentment don’t you feel that you’ve got to go searching all over again, that we’re always moving, always seeking new things, right?’ It was my turn to be played with.

‘Yes, I think you’re right. It’s like with money, isn’t it?’ I had no idea what I was saying. ‘If you buy a house, you want a bigger house, don’t you? It’s what happens. Contentment begins with the letter C and so does Capitalism. Is that a coincidence? Who knows!’ Everyone was laughing.

‘I think I know exactly the kind of man you are’ said Sophie, lowering her voice.

‘You do…? Could you tell me? Because I don’t know…’

‘You’re the kind of man who looks for things in the dark places of the internet, am I right?’ I was lost for words. ‘You’re going to write a review of me, aren’t you?’

Sophie returned to her presentation. She spoke about how the practice can help you to find ‘flow’, and that orgasm had many positive health benefits, especially to your ‘limbic system’.

Sophie turned to me and said, ‘you’ve missed my wonderful description of orgasm, haven’t you?’ I smiled politely and shrugged, not really knowing what to say. I was true: I did come a bit late.

After a few minutes of confusing mystical talk, she introduced Jennifer, who was quietly sitting on the sofa. Jennifer was more modestly dressed. She told us all about how the practice had changed her life. She spoke about orgasm being a continual state rather than simply being an ending state.

Jennifer handed back to Sophie, who told us about their courses, which lasted for an entire day. Orgasmic meditation, it turned out, was a ‘paired practice’ which you undertake with a significant other (and if you were single they could offer advice about how to find a partner). The practice, it turned out, concentrated on the female orgasm.

Sophie told us that the course included a fuller description of the philosophy and a ‘live demonstration’ of ‘paired practice’, which included a lesson about ‘stroking technique’. I blinked. Sophie then told us the price of the course and said they were taking bookings for the month of December.

‘So, what I was thinking is that we could all have a chat so you can ask any questions that you might have. I’ll put some music on, and we can just chill for a bit, okay?’

It was the end of the talk. I decided it was ‘the bitter end’; it was time to go. I looked across at the other guys. They were all chatting. The first guy seemed very interested.

As I was pulling on my jacket, Jennifer walked over to me.

‘How did you find that?’

‘It was, yes, erm, interesting’. I was still thoroughly baffled by all the quasi-mystical talk.

‘I’ll send you a text so you have my phone number, so if you have any questions you can speak to me. What’s your number?’ I gulped, then gave Jennifer my number. Jennifer then gave me a flyer about the course. I thanked her, said goodbye to Sophie and shook the hands of all the guys and left the apartment.

When I got to the street, I searched for a nearby bus stop. Within minutes I was on my way to Trafalgar Square. When I was on the train from Charing Cross I fished out the flyer from my bag to look at it properly. ‘It’s like yoga for your orgasm’ read one sentence. ‘Spend the day with two certified instructors’ and learn about the ‘four laws of orgasm’ read another. I remained perplexed. I couldn’t help but feel that I had accidentally been introduced to an unusual sex cult. This said, I later understood they didn’t call it ‘sex’; they called it ‘practice’.

On the following day, I received a message from Sophie. She asked me whether I had enjoyed the event. I said that I had, and I thanked her for her time. Her reply: ‘do come again’.