by Lila Huxley
I've had two big, defining relationships in my life. Both of them were people I found to be funny, kind, and good partners. But each time, over the course of the years we were together, the sex and intimacy would go from excellent to okay to nonexistent. I would start madly in love, but by the end, I just wanted to be done.
My last breakup was especially rough. It was hard to see how well he was doing after we split. The worst part was how open he was about the parts of the relationship that I felt like I had failed. I felt humiliated and out of control.
I longed to be in another relationship but stopped believing it could happen to me. Eventually, I gave up on my relationship and started to focus on myself. Six months later, I was living my “best possible life”: I had a beautiful apartment, my diet was clean, I exercised, I dressed well, and my career was thriving. And I was miserable. I wanted connection, but there wasn't anyone I trusted to let into this immaculate life.
I heard about Orgasmic Meditation (OM) through a friend, and even though I laughed it off, it stuck in my head. I went to an OM-related event and left feeling completely seen. The more people talked about their experience OMing, the more I realized what had been missing in my life. I was doing great, but my life was too small for me. I wouldn't let myself feel so shut down any longer.
It was hard to let go of looking good. I’d gotten so good at the little life I'd been living that I never let anyone see my messier sides. Orgasmic Meditation revealed me in ways I couldn't have expected... I farted. In an OM. In another OM, my stroker noticed there was a little piece of toilet paper stuck to me. If you had asked me in advance, I would have said these are the most mortifying things that could happen, but they weren't much of anything at the moment. The OM continued, and I still enjoyed it. Outside the OM, I realized how much work I'd put into looking good. I had felt so out of control in my breakup that I had poured the energy of all that hurt, anger, and jealousy into things I could control and trapped myself inside that too-small life.
As uncomfortable as it was, the only way to have the life I wanted was to become more open—not just about my body but about what I wanted. It was uncomfortable to ask for what I wanted *in the exact same way as the discomfort of needing to pass gas in that Orgasmic Meditation. Giving direction and adjusting my stroker was really giving me permission to be human and need things.
If you can tell someone how exactly to touch your clitoris for 15 minutes, you can ask for so many other things. I can tell a friend, “Will you hang out with me in the kitchen for a bit?” Just that simple request would have been impossible before. Now, I can get what I need by asking for what I want.
