The Shy Lad


As a lad I was shy around women.  On a date I’d engage in the normal questions and get to know them. I’m good at that. I’d get them really talking about themselves and opening up. I’d open up. I’m a good talker, and I know the key to being interesting is to be interested. There’d be another date, and then maybe a third date if there really was affinity. I would do all those things related to “the date.” Cricket matches, hiking, socializing, partying, things like that. And taking, always talking, making women feel safe but not taking their friendship further. I’d make for fun times and build connection—though absent authentically saying the thing that I really want to say to them, it was rarely a direct one. By the third date maybe she was ready and wanted to go further, but in our society women generally don't initiate. So guys have to read the clues. Then, you know, ask. Women wait for guys to make the move. That was hard for me. it wasn’t part of the dialogues I’d build, and then when it came to saying what I wanted to—to touch on our sexuality—I’d baulk. 

Basically I wasn’t able to cut through the BS to touch an innate and deeper communication. A woman signals. She's explaining a certain body language that had been unknown to me. In that I was uneducated. You know, unless a woman really comes and talks to me and touches me, I wouldn't get it, and my need remained clenched inside me. I wouldn’t ask for what I wanted. I would come across as a poet—a word guy—or a dreamer, not the man of action. It’s the curse of the “good guy,” which is really the mask of not being willing to take the risk. I’d end up a friend. I spent many years without a girlfriend.

This was eating me up, and seven years ago, come December, I was visiting family in India. When I’m there I go to a temple whenever I have something to ask. So I went to this temple and asked, “God, there's one thing that really frustrates me and that is dating. You know, I never understand women. I have everything in life: good spirit, good job, good health. I'm confident in myself but when it comes to women, I just don't get it. Can you please help me with something? Can you do something?” 

That was my wish. Two weeks later on a Monday I was speaking to friends planning a dinner for Friday evening. I’m looking forward to it, and then come Friday it’s canceled. I got frustrated because I've been planning for days. “What do I do next?” So I’m on Google events looking for things happening in London on a Friday night. I’m at the bank in my suit after a full week of deals and building contracts and with a lot of thwarted energy. I don't want to be going home now. So I came on this listing for an event happening in central London at seven. It was a ten-pound entry fee, and there was a description about a communication game and talk about sexuality plus this and that. I'm like, “Oh, that sounds interesting. You know, let me just go and enjoy this now.” This is how I came to OM. 

One lady, very nice and friendly, is there to greet about the sixteen of us arriving. We started with different games— games designed to help open a shy guy like me to be able to ask for things. There were even discussion about intimate topics like desire and sex. I was like, “Oh my God, is that really happening?” After the event the lady said to me that there is going to be a course tomorrow, where I could learn the steps of OM. 

I learned many things, but also that day during the exercises I made a connection was this Mexican lady. We got along quite well sitting next to each other roleplaying through the day. So before the course ended I asked: “Would you like to OM with me in the evening?” She immediately said, “Yes.” 

That evening comes and my partner and I get into the nest for our OM. We do the grounding and noticing steps, which were simple enough. Then the stroking begins, and I start sweating. It's like, “Where is the clitoris? What are the lips?” I don’t know any of this. I’m doing my best but my mind is occupied with if I’m doing it right at all. 

And then suddenly, in the last two minutes, a strange thing happened. As I stroked everything just slowed and then, suddenly, vanished. I felt like we zoomed into my soul. The chitter-chatter “mind” thing—none of that anymore. It only happened a few seconds, yet in those seconds my body felt rich and expansive. I became its calm. At that moment, immediately, my whole view about pussies and women changed. We finished the OM. I looked at my partner, and she is in tears of joy. And I don't know what happened to me. I don't know what happened yet from that moment I became a different person. 

Today, seven years on, I’m still a banker but I’m also on a path through which that first OM still calls. I’m grounded in feeling and desire, not fear. It is a new sense of wrong and right, and I rely on those feelings, not logic.  My life purpose now in whatever I experience is to show and tell people that it is possible—what I would want to say to the shy lad I was—to trust touch. Let me say it in one line: My life purpose is to help people liberate their sexuality and orgasm.