one taste of onetaste

After a long separation over the holidays, Molly and I had a lot of catching up to do; how much Wii we played, how much food we ate, how desperately we missed each other.

“I have so much to tell you!” I exclaimed. “I got this can opener shaped like a tucan!”

“Cool!” She exclaimed. “I had lunch with my cousin, and she was telling me about this kooky sex cult she’s in!”

I had to hear more about this so-called sex cult, this OneTaste. Long story short, Molly and I decided, I think partly on a “new year, new experiences!” kind of whim, to accept her cousin’s invitation to attend one of OneTaste’s “ingroup” meetings, which the official website describes as “weekly introductory evening[s] of games and connection.” And no sex stuff, I was assured. I decided to give it a try; after all, I needed something to write about in my new blog.

Molly and I arrived at the Little-Italy-based OneTaste headquarters early and met up with her cousin. We ordered Chinese and sat in the OneTaste common area while said cousin told us a little more about the group.

Essentially, OneTaste is kind of like any other new-agey, community-based organization. Out-there, maybe; harmless, certainly; THE answer? not for me. According to the web site, "OneTaste is an experiential inquiry in to the nature of unconditional freedom." More specifically, members are on a kind of unified search for truth in emotional relationships as well as physical ones, including their relationship with their own identities and bodies. Orgasmic Meditation, or "oming," sessions are a big part of the full OneTaste experience. They revolve around the female orgasm, reached tantric-style through a parter's stroking of the upper-left quadrant of the clitoris. Yeah, I don't know. There are also weekend "body courses" and "intimate intensives." But in the interest of space and accurate presentation, I'll stick to the side of OneTaste I've experienced.

When it was time for the meeting to start, we gathered in a room that, quite frankly, seemed more suited for a Mary Kay party than a cult meeting. I don't know what I expected—mysterious sex apparatuses? A Kool-Aid dispenser?--but the room was modestly furnished with a semicircle of folding chairs, some floor pillows, and a couple of lamps. The aesthetic: Crate-and-Barrel-sparse. Also, they were playing Shania Twain.

As the participants gathered, it hit me that I had little idea what exactly I had gotten myself into. I looked around at the twenty-five or so faces surrounding me. The majority of them were young, probably in their mid-twenties, but there were some middle-aged and older adults there too. There was a french guy, and an older Jewish woman who very Jewishly complained about the temperature of the room throughout the session. We were a motley crew.

The meeting was lead by an attractive redheaded woman, who welcomed new and returning members and gave a brief description of how the evening would unfold. Pretty much the entire session revolves around the playing of three, well, games.

During “one mind,” the facilitator began a sentence that each group member had to finish in succession around the circle. “Hot seat” lived up to its name; one person at a time answered a string of related questions asked by their fellow onetasters, who had to say “thank you” after their question was answered. “Blow your cover” was structured similarly; each attendee had his turn in the spotlight, during which their true self was supposedly revealed by other people around the room sharing their sometimes curious perceptions of that person ("you put on a smile so no one sees you cry.") And, of course, after each observation is made, the blowee says, “thank you.”

Are you rolling your eyes? I probably would be too. At ingroup, though, a funny thing happened to my jaded, judgmental, just-here-for-the-spectacle attitude. These were strangers who cared about what each other had to say, who were working towards a common goal that they hope will make them happy. And I think there’s something in that to be revered, or at least respected, albeit from the comfort of my own familiar way of existing. Needless to say, I will not be joining the Onetaste community any time in the foreseeable future.

So what is it about Onetaste that is a novelty to me and the answer for others? For me, the anonymity between my fellow participants and me was a dealbreaker. I didn’t know them, and somehow felt they hadn’t earned the right to know how I like to be touched (and, likewise, I hadn’t earned the right to burden them with that information). Of course, many of those that are members get to know each other quite well (am I right?!), but something about the sharing of intimate details just for the sake of sharing them, and NOT as a function of shared experiences or the natural unfolding of a friendship, didn’t sit well with me. I think it’s possible that some join because they are lonely, or feel they need such structured, predictable fulfillment of their emotional needs. Others are probably more open to finding truth in the fringes of what the general public considers to be reasonable.

And you know there’s gotta be chicks that are only in it for the strokes.


Thank you.