I went to a sex party.
My gremlins told me not to.
They said it was extracurricular and that I should focus only on work and family.
Maybe yoga and lunch with friends. But definitely NOT a sex party.
But here’s the thing, I am on to them. They said the same thing about dating apps , and I have fallen in love with people I met there who forever changed my life. So I didn’t listen to them. It helps to track your gremlins.
A pause here for reader participation:
If you were considering going to a sex party, what would your gremlins say?
Take your time.
Now, about that party. My favorite moment was when we all turned into cats, into this writhing mass of bodies, meowing and sliding against each other. It felt so good! It’s so easy to communicate about touch when you’re a cat! Rubbing against someone means, “Touch me!” and someone closing their eyes, meowing, and tilting their neck means, “Yes! more!” And leaning back or raising your paws means “not now.” We could all get so much more touch if we behaved like cats.
But let me back up.
Before the cat mob there were two hours of facilitated exploration, including an hour on ground rules, culture setting, boundaries and consent. I learned about group sex etiquitte, i.e. consent should be gained from every member before joining. I learned that your boundaries, the spoken rules for others to follow, should be placed before limits, the place where you risk harm, so the limits never get crossed. And I learned that arousal works like a drug, so the boundaries set before that drug kicks in are the ones that should be honored.
A stunning woman, whose breasts kept popping out of her robe, led us in a guided meditation to connect us to ourselves. Then a psychologist taught us about the origins of fantasies, and guided us to imagine one. She listed adjectives that might appeal to us and I was surprised by the ones that stood out. Words like “degraded” and “worshipped” going together, for example. Then we whispered our fantasy into the ear of someone nearby. That was edgy.
Next we broke into groups of four and each received five minutes of massage from everyone in the group. We were told to ask for what we wanted, what kind of touch and where, and to practice stating our boundaries. This exact activity is something I’ve been experimenting with in the Grief Group (definitely a keeper)! Once you do this you’ll wonder why we’re not all doing it all the time.
Then we turned into cats.
And the cats turned into puddles of people making out.
I didn’t know how to ask to be included, so I just danced.
Alone. Crazily. Over these puddles of charged sexual energy.
And here is my biggest takeaway: my freaky planter box just got bigger. Before this party, the roots had been poking out of the bottom of the flower pot, like the unruly pubic hairs that kink their way out of my swimsuit. This experience repotted me in a bigger planter. Because if strangers, including men in garter belts and women with strap-ons, can give loving pleasure to each other, I can dance as crazily as I want.
So I am thankful to the freak pioneers, and I want to keep being one. Because the world was made to be free in, and eccentricity is a playground, and pleasure is important.
So I hope you start tracking your gremlins too. Their job is to keep you in your comfort zone, but the magic happens at the edges.
And I wish for you a life full of magic.
So dance crazy, brother. Dance crazy, sister. Dance while riding your bicycle, or at a stoplight, or during yoga. And ask for what you want.
Keep finding and pushing the edges, and let your freak flag fly.
And P.S. If you want nine months of guidance and community while pushing your edges, Wild Women Rising might be right for you. We’ve started accepting applicants for the 2020 journey, which includes Sensuality, Sexuality and Embodiment this year (but no sex parties!)
The best way to apply is to come to a workshop, and we are having our only Sacramento Workshop on 12/8: Five Steps to Create and Live your Vision. It’s free! Space is limited and may sell out.