Speed dating nyc over 40
But, if Tantra is really about connection and being present in the moment – giving your partner your full attention – I’m not surprised they have such a great time between the sheets.
Back in the entrance of the yoga studio (which, incidentally, is fragranced like a 5-star spa), I’ve been handed a black pouch, full of cubes imprinted with the same letter ‘B’, which hangs from a leather thong so I can place it around my neck.
Each ‘couple’ forms a ‘station’ and at each station we do an exercise together that Guy talks us through from his prompt cards, like a gameshow host. For the first one – as I sit opposite a total stranger – we’re asked to list all the things we find beautiful about the person in front of us. Another exercise has us sitting down, mirroring each other’s movements, which ends up feeling like a contemporary dance. With the next gentleman, I must now hug him and apologise on behalf of all my sisters, which he feels sincerely grateful for. Though Guy is pretty chill, approaching life talking about personal energies and meaningful connections, he’s also thankfully a New Yorker and can crack a joke.
While I ponder on what they’ve done during the lifetime of this poor chap, his body is heating up like a roaring furnace and I’m glad when I can finally let go before all moisture evaporates from my body. At the end of each rendezvous, lasting anywhere between a minute and three minutes, Guy invites us to pop one of our beads in the man’s pouch, if we are interested in talking more, while they stand with their eyes closed. It allows us to laugh at the awkwardness of it all and, perhaps, cunningly, let down our defensive walls, allowing people in and deepening the connection.
In the centre, he explains, sits a ‘temple’ – a colourful cloth laid out on which we can place anything we like to bring us good luck and energy.
I don’t know if I missed the memo or it just wasn’t given, but I haven’t come prepared.
The women look more diverse and like they’ve put more thought into it.
All silliness – apart from the Cheshire Cat grin I wear to hide my awkwardness – is left at the door. Ladies form an inner circle facing the men on the outside. The guy is kind and holds my hand — metaphorically speaking — through this confusing and new experience, and he laughs with me as I bumble my way through the task. And so I find myself embracing a 7ft tall man who feels as resistant to this exercise as I do. This time by a man about my height who tells me he’s sorry for all the hurt his brothers have caused me.
It looks as if we’re about to kick off a round of country dancing (I wouldn’t have entirely minded; Morris Dancing is not considered a novelty in my native Dorset). For another exercise we simply talk — à la normal speed date — but the deafening volume of the room as excited words bounce off the walls makes it hard for me to hear the young Russian man standing in front of me. It feels like I’m being forced to static dance with my mum’s friend’s (much older) son at a wedding. ‘Thanks very much,’ I think, but I wish they were bloody capable of apologising for themselves.
As others step forward and place crystals and items of jewellery, I look on bewildered. We start by doing a school-like energy experiment, led by Guy, before going around the room, introducing ourselves and saying what we want to get from the evening.
The answers range from my ‘curiosity’, to one guy who was brave enough to admit he’s ‘here to find a partner’.
‘I’m not really sure what to expect,’ I overhear a man say nervously to the woman sitting next to him.