A lady friend of mine invited me to go to an Advanced Tantric Yoga Class.
I thought it would be one of those deals where a woman with a scarf in her hair and a Santa Fe burlap-bag house-dress tells you to bend your body into a pretzel and breathe a lot.
Not even close FRIEND-O.
This is a deal where couples go to have hawt sweaty aerobic sex in PUBLIC.
They don't just breathe. They breathe ON EACH OTHER. And they do it IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY ELSE.
Then the instructor teaches you how to kiss, how to dance, how to find your partner's "secret sacred place" (the mind boggles), how to "extend orgasmic bliss in women," and how to "achieve full body orgasm in men."
... I am going to go home, see Dr. Finklestein, and I am gonna tell him we have a whole new bag of issues now ...
Whew! Makes you wanna make certain you take your gym clothes to work, doesn't it?
Remember that church in Southern California where everybody who joined had to have sex with the minister's wife?
Well, this place I'm talking about is in the peoples republic of NORTHERN California, where they're a little bit more democratic. It's a brown-bag situation. Bring your own. But once you get there, be prepared to peel the pastry, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
What's going on here? Is it my imagination, or is there a whole lot of REAL public sex going on lately? It's not JUST the attention addicted quasi-celebs who do this on bad MTV Reality shows. We're kinda moving back to the nineties, when they had "sex clubs" like the Edgewater in Oakland California. Heck, Somebody's been trying to make a major film about the Marquis de Sade. People are getting tattoos on their nether regions and TELLING US ABOUT IT (Major Yucko). And everybody is fascinated with people like Kim Kardashian, who, let's face it, didn't exactly invent any new circus tricks with her leaky sex tapes.
So these people in Marin County who have turned it into a religion aren't so different from the general population. They're just more obnoxious about it. Maybe they wanna write it off on their income tax.
I didn't go to the meeting. I chickened out. I admit it. The idea of all these people WATCHING while I . . . well, while I ANYTHING . . . is just a little much for this ole Texas boy. I'm not saying I have to have the lights out, but GEE WHIZ, we're talking orchestra seats here.
The Alabama Hanging Dog
And let's face it. Two people having sex look pretty dang ridiculous to EVERYBODY EXCEPT THOSE TWO PEOPLE. You know what I mean? If you WERE watchin this, and you were REALLY in touch with what you were watchin, you'd break out laughin like a hyena. And how would that make the poor Tantric Couple feel? They're trying to get into the spiritual mystery of Yoga Sex, but what they're really thinkin is "I should have stayed another fifteen minutes on that Stairmaster," or "I HATE it when you bump into the kitchen counter and get those big brown bruises on your legs."
Call me a wimp, but I prefer leaving the whole deal in the Motel 6 where it belongs. That's about as spiritual as I wanna get in this department.