Okay I can't concentrate, but I feel a moral obligation to recap what went down with Orgasmic Meditation Dude this week. I will write the sequence of events in listicle format because I think I can eke out some semblance of order that way.
1. Orgasmic Meditation Dude contacts me mid-week. He is all like: Hey I'm going to be at this coffeeshop in the East Village on Wednesday. Come if you want. (Not like, "orgasm" come. But, like, "show up" come.)
2. I take this as a sign. I'm a big believer in signs. So I tweet/Facebook asking if anyone will chaperone. I am charmed that this guy isn't precious and can take the heat of being written about even though y'all are brutal (in a good way) about his initial approach to me.
3. Thankfully, I find a perfect "so-you're-meeting-a-stranger-from-the-Internet" chaperone. My friend Rachel DeAlto says she has to meet a client at a Starbucks up on York and 80th Street so I tell her: Done, great, I'll change locations, you can chaperone. (Ladies: Never go to a second location. This is different, though. I didn't go to his first location.)
4. My friend Rachel meets Orgasmic Meditation Dude first -- and she texts me that he is very nice and not murderous. That's good. I had a feeling this would be the case.
5. I take some pictures of myself walking on the way, and I think I looked old, fat and busted. But hey man that's my damn issue. (Cut to: Later that evening, me, lying in bed, taking 200 different selfies as I slobber Pad Thai into my mouth, dump some powder onto my face and watch Season 3 of "Damages." After a half hour, I find a single decent selfie and try like 5 different filters and then post it on Instagram and send to four different guys I flirt with. Ugh.)
6. I meet OM Dude. I meet Rachel. It is my first time meeting Rachel in real life, too. (Shit, maybe I should have had a second "so-you're-meeting-a-stranger-from-the-Internet" chaperone.) She is so great. I love that chick. She is so sweet and funny and gorgeous. Buy her book. Give her money. She rules.
7. My friend Rachel leaves soon after because she has some other orgasmic meditation rando from the Internet to screen for yet another girlfriend. Haha, jk! She has a normal life to go lead. I sit with the guy. We talk. Actually mostly I talk. I can't stop. I fucking ramble on and on and on and on and on. I treat this dude like my therapist. This shit was awkward. But he had some kind of sweet listening vibe (probably because he is friends with Brad Blanton, who he literally sought out, traveled across the country to meet, then stayed with for a week after reading Brad's book "Radical Honesty," which OM Dude said changed his life and freed him from shame). As we sit outside the Starbucks, I just keep talking and talking about family stuff, working a lot and then we pet a poodle nearby.
8. Orgasmic Meditation Dude and I go through several of the best comments you guys left on the original piece. His reactions: "I don't like to capitalize my 'i's, it's true." Then he admits: "I did freak out initially when I saw the headline that I was a self-proclaimed expert because the orgasmic meditation community might think I had proclaimed myself to be something I'm not -- but then I decided just to let it go." Then he says, even about the very meanest comments excoriating him: "The comments were really funny" and "It was interesting to see who was for me and against me." I like this POV -- seriously, +1 for this attitude, OM Dude.
9. I ask: "What about the one comment where the chick said, 'If this guy cried twice reading your stories, can you imagine what he would do if he actually had sex with you?" OM Dude's response: "Yeah, that was a good one. A lot of pressure." (I love his reactions. So, so attractive to me when someone can take it.)
10. I ask what Orgasmic Meditation Dude has been up to since he initially wrote me. He says he had some lovely dalliances with other people in the OM community. He didn't call them dalliances. That's me. I use stupid words like dalliances. Apparently there is some OM hut, or house, or shed, or mansion or something, I don't know, but they get together and OM. That's the clit rubbing thing where you orgasmically meditate that he knows how to do.
11. One of my story posts as Orgasmic Meditation Dude and I are talking, and I say, "Shit I gotta post my story on Twitter and Facebook and...." He says at one point while I'm doing this, "I feel distance from you with the phone." I chuckle at this. I call him out and say that as much as I love earnest people and earnest sentiment in general (as it is refreshing compared to the snark we breathe like oxygen), that kind of talk makes me cringe and I think of, like, a "Portlandia" episode where they are at "Women and Women First" bookstore. He laughs. He gets it. It's true, though, over-earnest treating-life-like-an-encounter-group ALL THE TIME language makes me cringe. Oh, and the cherry on the cherry about this guy: OM Dude is from Portland. Of course he is.
12. When I tell OM Dude that I work a lot, I work all the time, he says: "How's that working out for you?" And I say, "Well it's my dream job." We talk about the sentiment of "Go big or go home," and I say that two of my biggest -isms are perfectionism and workaholism. (How funny that I give so much shade about self-helpy shit and then I write about my "isms" like that's the way people actually talk. Good lord.)
13. I am enjoying Orgasmic Meditation Dude. He does seem very young though. Very kind, but sweet, innocent -- like a little boy who has learned the skills of orgasmic meditation and radical honesty and is finding his way in the world. I'm finding my way in the world, too, but a decade later, so with a decade's worth more wisdom and experiences. At another point, it also makes me feel weird when I tell an anecdote that happened when I was married, and OM Dude says: "You were married?" Instances like this are always a wake-up call as to how strange a stranger actually is. Sometimes, when I feel disconnected, familiarity is what I crave most of all. Just to be with someone who knows about my great aunt in Ohio or my mom and dad in San Diego. Someone who actually knows me rather than someone who thinks they know me because they've read a few words on the Internet written by me.
14. I ask if Orgasmic Meditation Dude wants to come back and see the xoJane offices. "I'd love to," he says. We take the train downtown. At one point, I'm not sure if we had have reached the 33rd Street station, and I say, "Wait, what stop are we at?" In response, OM Dude barks out with very sweet doesn't-live-in-New-York gusto, "EXCUSE ME: What stop are we at?" to the train at large. At another point, he also gets down on his backpack and sits on it as he talks to me so he'll be at my level because I found a seat on the train. His kindness radiates through everything, but so does his youthful naivete. Not a slam. If he didn't have it at that age, I'd be concerned.
15. At one point, Orgasmic Meditation Dude says: "I felt like we had a moment of really good eye contact there." So, so earnest. Then again, that's kind of the whole thing about radical honesty. It's sweet.
16. We get off the train, and we are talking about my dog. He tells me about a bad experience where a friend of his was hugging another friend and a pitbull jumped up and attacked one of the men. OM Dude had to take the man who was attacked to the hospital, where he ended up with 50 stitches on his face. Nothing quite stresses me out like stories like these because I can't control what happens with my dog, and I want him to be okay and good and not ever have any problems. My dog is doing very well overall and in doggy day care, and they love him so much it makes my heart hurt. But he did have an incident once where he bit a friend's boyfriend. It was very minor, but unacceptable -- and my worst nightmare. Earlier this week, I was just holding my dog so close and telling him, "I love you so much. Do you know how much I love you?" And I kissed his nose, and I just cried. As we are walking, OM Dude can tell that his story is stressing me out, and I say, "No that's okay. I always try to look at what the lesson is with things in life. And I think this one is just about turning it over. All I can do is do my best with my dog and love him and train him and take care of him and protect him and protect others and be as responsible as I can. Then I can turn it over. I can't control life or him or other people." Then I do a little reiki healing symbol because that sometimes calms me down when I feel stressed. That reminds me. Do you know what one of the most romantic things a man ever said to me was? He said, "I like to hold you tight because I think it calms you down."
17. At that point, instead of taking OM Dude straight to xoJane, I decide to introduce him to my dog in case the two of us ever hang out at my place (I was open to the possibility at this point). So instead of going straight to the office, we head toward daycare where he could meet my dog Sam in a happy, positive environment. On the way down to D is for Doggy, we run into a hilarious friend of mine who is as out there as I am, and the two of us go to town talking in the street about everything and anything -- from sex to spirituality to the movie screening we had just been to with Sandra Bernhard, and OM Dude was a sport, keeping up and enjoying it all. Did I tell you yet? It's OM Dude's first time in New York. HIS FIRST TIME IN NEW YORK. Ever. This woman is somewhat of a celebrity (has been in several TV shows and movies), and OM Dude is able to hang. This is lovely. A definite shit test. Sometimes people go deer in the headlights with people like that, and he is chill as fuck. Smooth move, OM Dude. When I revealed to my friend at one point that he is into orgasmic meditation (the time seemed right, and he was down for me revealing it), she looks at him and says: "Oh my God, this whole time I've been casually talking to you and at any moment you could have started rubbing my clit."
18. Orgasmic Meditation Dude meets my dog. He gives my dog a treat. My dog is happy.
19. I ask OM Dude if he has about $6 for a cab from D is for Doggy to xoJane, and he does. "Good," I say, "because I'm late for this party I have to go to, and I have $35 in my bank account until I get paid on Friday so let's do this." In the cab, he announces, "This is my first time taking a cab in New York." We arrive at the corner of 28th and Fifth, and he asks: "What do I do now? How do I get the cab driver the money?" "You are adorable," I say. "Just hand him the fucking money." OM Dude laughs.
20. I bring Orgasmic Meditation Dude into the office, where he meets Emily. He is charming, and I say to Emily, "See, isn't he a nice guy?" Emily responds -- with frighteningly better boundaries than me -- "Well I've just met him so I don't know." Damnit. I hate it when my shit boundaries are so nakedly exposed like that. I take a cab to the party I have to go to. A female sex doctor friend of mine greets me by pinching me on the butt. That is fun.
21. Later that night, I pick up my dog from day care. I get home. I collapse on the bed, and I text OM Dude as promised. He told me he was doing back-up go-go-dancing so probably wouldn't be reachable. This is good as I am splayed out on the bed, don't have interest in anything orgasmic, and I watch the last three episodes of Season 3 of "Damages" instead. Then I suddenly feel sick from my period (did I mention I have my period?) and decide it would be helpful to orgasm, so I call a phone sex line, and it is way, way dark and fucked up. I don't come from that but from some weird porn video with a lady with huge tits fucking a young guy (which is really not my thing) and I pass out.
22. Thursday I go to work, and Olivia trolls me all day on Twitter. It is funny. I call Corynne "basic" because she calls me "crazy," and I say that this is just what basic people say about interesting people. Annie tweets that my calling Corynne basic is "cunty" so I tweet "Ima knife Annie, BRB." Then we stage an elaborate photo shoot, and I make intern Ellie take 500 pictures of me until there is one where I do not look fat, busted and old next to terrifyingly gorgeous Annie. We tweet it. Ha ha ha ha. It is fun and funny, but I forgot to take my antidepressants and I'm on my period, and at 4:30 p.m. suddenly I lose my shit after telling everyone about the dark place on the phone sex line and Corynne says it makes her really sad, and then I put on my headphones and a Death Cab for Cutie song about how someday you'll be loved comes on, and I start crying and crying and crying and wow, abrupt tonal shift, man.
23. Suddenly, I can't stop crying.
It feels good, though. Look at me, feeling my feelings. I text like four different guy friends, "Could you hold me for a little bit tonight? Not sexual. I just need to be held by someone who loves me." Everyone gets back and says no it is not weird, and they love me, and etc. but they are booked. Instead I hang out with my friend Jillian Kuzma and we laugh and talk, and I'm so proud of myself for at least knowing enough in self-care to take care of myself by reaching out. Then I go over to my now 28-year-old friend with benefits (although we are mostly retired from this role with each other) to hang and talk (he had stopped being booked by 10 p.m.). My dog Sam loves the 28-year-old very much. He just loves and loves on him. The 28-year-old loves Sam, too. The 28-year-old is drop-dead-gorgeous and I see this even more than I've seen in the past, and I say, "Do you want to kiss me?" He kisses me, and suddenly we are having the hottest passionate makeout session I've had in some time, because there is love mixed up in there, even though we are just friends. He also reads everything I write, listens, including the dark place phone sex story I told him, and he knows what I like. He makes me come just by teasing my nipples lightly and then holding my head firmly, slapping my face lightly and then kissing it tenderly. "Are you going to come from me?" he says. Then at one point, we look over, and we see my dog making this face:
And we both die laughing.
Then we resume.
24. I have the most stress-releasing happy sweaty orgasm I've had in months. I look at my phone. I remember I now have a date scheduled with a sweet friend of mine in his thirties who may be something more on Friday (tonight!) which arises after sending my mass "will you hold me" text. OM Dude texts that his last day in New York will also be Friday. Too bad, OM Dude.
25. I look back up at the 28-year-old who has just made me come harder than I've come in forever. Like, my whole body vibrating and we are both sweaty puddles. The 28-year-old says, "Come here," and I rest my head on his shoulder. He says, "You are incredibly hot, Mandy," and I say, "So are you." I have my dog show the 28-year-old how he can shake goodbye, I switch off my phone, and I walk home blissfully in the glorious springtime weather.
I think of the ridiculousness of everything, of life, of all these choices. Like a "Choose Your Own Adventure," NSFW edition.
If you have an orgasm with OM Dude, turn to page 49.
If you decide there might be something more with the 28-year-old friend with benefits, turn to page 15.
If you think the friend in his 30s you have a date with tonight might be the one, turn the next page.