March 10, 1999.

The Boy did something really special this morning. As has become my habit, I couldn't get up for Wednesday morning class, so I turned off the alarm & went back into freefall. Woke up for good at noon - an hour after I had planned. It's not so bad for me since I don't have another class until 6 p.m., but the Boy has to commute back to Mississauga and then to Brampton via bus before 3:30. This means that he should be gone on the 12:20 bus.

There was not a chance in hell that he would catch the 12:20 bus.

He got all tense & upset, of course. The first thing out of his mouth was a rather accusing query as to why I hadn't gotten up before. I don't particularly enjoy missing this class, and responded thusly. He considered the logic for a split second, and said calmly, "you're right. I'm sorry."

Do you know what an exchange like that means to a girl who gets easily worked up when things go wrong, a girl whose family consists of people who get loud, angry and defensive when they do something wrong? This refusal to get mad simply for the sake of retaliation...it's more precious than rubies. If I'm exposed to it long enough, I just might become a better person myself.

From this topic, I suppose it's a natural segue to recounting my experience at the orgasm workshop last night.

When I told Dirk and Paris about it a few weeks ago, they displayed bitter resentment that they weren't allowed to go. To appease their desire for hot Cosmo-esque secrets, I promised to wear a wire. The Boy, on the other hand, wanted to know if there would be "hot girl-on-girl action." "Probably not." "Oh. Well, could you pretend that there was? Like, make up some stories to tell me on the way home? I'd really appreciate that." "Ohhhhkay."

First impressions:

Sailing through the door, I instantly regretted my prudishness in not wanting to bring a friend. Sure, I didn't want to know where they were on the orgasm learning curve, but everyone else seemed to bring a friend...or a lover. Chairs were arranged in a double row of facing semi-circles with an overhead projector at the top; I sat in the back. It took about 10 minutes for it to dawn on me that the rather inefficient shape was (duh!) a pudenda. How appropriate. I wondered how personal it would get. I wondered if there really might be girl-on-girl action. An older woman looked exactly like a female version of Jaymz Bee. A girl in a motorcycle jacket came in smelling of pot and sat right in front of me, which I considered a good omen.

What I learned:

The location of the G-spot. That the preliminary to a G-spot orgasm tends to feel like having to go pee, due to the jumble of structures in that part of the body. How far the clitoris extends into the body and along the legs. The point of tantric yoga.

I learned how my instructor reaches orgasm, not only anecdotally, but also visually - at the end of the session we had the option of watching a video of her masturbating.

I learned that I didn't want to write down anything about my orgasm experience - I had not a single word I wished to commit to posterity. I learned that there are other girls who are freaked out wondering if they're normal; other girls who feel intimidated by media, by the perception that not only is everybody around you having better sex, but also everyone in history. I learned that everyone is putting up a front of knowing all the answers, including myself...a girl actually approached me to say that I "seemed to know a lot of what was going on"(!)

I learned how quickly I can feel intensely bonded to a random grouping of strangers.

I learned that it's possible to blush for 3 straight hours.

Final tally:

No girl-on-girl action, but a lot of useful information, plus the newest issue of Bust. It reminded me of a women's circle I participated in once (it subsequently disbanded). I'd like to have the experience again, but more for the female conversation than anything. There's only so much that can be transmitted clinically - anecdotal evidence is far superior in that respect.

On the way home:

The Boy: "some of those women were giving me dirty looks."
Me: "don't worry, I didn't say anything about you."
TB: (hopefully) "not even that I'm, like, 'the best lover you've ever had'?"
Me: "nope. didn't come up."
TB: (disappointed) "oh."