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<editorsnote> Hi, I'm Jen Friel, and we here at TNTML examine the lives of nerds outside of the basements and into the social media, and dating world.  We have over 75 peeps that write about their life in real time. (Real nerds, real time, real deal.) Sit back, relax, and enjoy some of the stories!! </editorsnote>

 

 

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Wednesday
Sep262018

#BurningMan: That time I discovered the center of the universe and two days later my g-spot (PT 3 ... definitely #NSFW)

<editorsnote> If you're an executive reading this after our pitch meetings, here's a post highlighting what we discussed. And here is the most recent slave post. If you're a nerd, keep reading ... </editorsnote> 

This is a series of posts regarding my experience at Burning Man. Here's part one and two if you want to catch up ... or don't, this is where I talk about the sex, so does anything else really matter?

Oh yeah, and dear Mom and Dad, it's definitely not a good idea for you to read this, but I love you.

Onto the post ... 

We left the hotel around noon on Sunday knowing it would take us a solid 12 hours or so to get there. I can't begin to tell you how physically exhausting driving an RV can be, and since we weren't in any big hurry we took our time figuring we would get there whenever we got there.

Our "Burn experience" had already begun and we were all slowly seeping out the stressors from our every day lives. 

13 hours later, four taped up windows (you have to tape up RV windows to keep out the dust from the playa), and one flat (but fixed) trailer tire later, we arrived at the gate which consisted of one very long line. 

Playa times at the gate can range anywhere from a handful of hours to as many as 15. We were lucky that it only took us six, but that's still six fucking hours that you're literally waiting in a single line. 

Before you enter the playa you must submit to a search of the vehicle. Luck again favoring us, we wound up not getting stopped but did get asked if there were any "Virgins" in the vehicle. 

Yes, my friends said, pointing back to me. 

They then asked me to step out of the RV where I could be properly "greeted." 

The half naked sorta superhero said, "Virgin, I command you to do a dirt angel." 

That's it? I thought as I faceplanted myself onto the playa. 

... and when I say faceplanted I mean I fucking faceplanted, rolled, and wiggled and flailed my arms to something that may or may not have looked like an angel. 

I was then instructed to ring the bell, which I did twice (for good measure) ... and we were off. 

"Wow," my friend said, "you really just go for things don't you." 

We arrived at camp and parked an hour later (mostly due to how big of a pain in the ass it is to park an RV and a trailer in a very designated parking spot) and what would now be our home for the week. (All of the trailers end up getting "stacked." Getting in and out is not an option.) 

Our designated spot was front and center in camp, and having a friend who is "Burning Man famous" meant that we were immediately swarmed. 

Still scared and not in the mood to talk to people, I quietly dipped out to scope our digs. 

Burning Man reminds me of more redneck-ie version of Disney's "Fort Wilderness." It's just trailer after trailer and these weird looking art installations (some better looking than others) ... one right after the next. 

On hand painted signs, I saw offers to find my soulmate, clear my chakras, visit a dildo garden, and even sign up for an orgy. 

Less than 15 minutes later, I solo cupped myself back to the RV hoping that maybe I was missing something. 

By the time I got back we were summoned by the camp to a mandatory meeting. 

See, when you first arrive the camp reminds you of all of the "rules and regulations." Those include the reiteration that:

1) YOU DO NOT GIVE OR ACCEPT DRUGS FROM ANYONE (as they could be law enforcement and you will be arrested)

... that 2) you are not allowed to take pictures or touch ANYONE without their consent, and

.... 3) that any "matter out of place" is considered MOOP and if you are guilty of spilling anything (even glitter) there will be hell to pay. 

Unsure what they truly meant by that, I quietly whispered to my gf that I was out and going to head back to the RV to get ready for the evening. I then casually but firmly bolted from base, changing into "evening wear" (which was only a fur coat, gym shorts, and a Captain's hat)

Outfit properly outfitted for any and or all drug use (fur feels amazing when you're fucked up), I then (obviously sober) climbed ontop of the RV where I watched the sunset by myself. I don't get it, I thought. This is like a glorified camping experience with 80,000 of my "closest friends" that all want to "welcome me home." I already have close friends, and a home, and that traffic was (logistically done as best as they could) insane.

The group came back to the RV shortly after the sunset, as we all prepared for what was to come. 

Night one, we said grabbing the drugs from our "totally secret hiding place" ... 

I then took a "small rock like" form of molly (which I had never done before) and placed one of the tabs of acid under my tongue (where it needs to melt for five or so minutes). 

We next lit ourselves up like a Christmas tree (in both a literal and physiological perspective) as you want to be "seen" on the playa by all the art cars. 

"... if you're tripping balls and think you see a car, you're probably seeing a car SO MOVE OUT OF THE WAY. Your worst case scenario, is that it's not a car and you just look stupid which is better than being dead," reminded the camp leader during the meeting.

Safety third may be the mantra of the Burn, but as a group we took that shit seriously. 

Before we walked out the door, I warned my friends of two things that I do behavior wise (which enhances with drug use) ... 

1) If I Taylor Swift "Blank Space" my face, it's cool ... it could mean

a) I'm having a super fun time. 

b) I'm having a super fun time and thinking of something. 

c) I'm can't believe what my eyes are actually seeing, but I'm still having a super fun time. 

I didn't have this photo at the time but here I am on a private flight with some of the "top minds in technology and media" en route to one of the cruises for the Summit Series. 

Fun Time Friel has an actual party going on around her and STILL didn't care.

I was into whatever I was into, and processing whatever it was at the time. It doesn't mean I'm not having fun, I'm just fully in my own little world. 

2) When I fall asleep I will curl myself up into a little ball. Don't worry I'm not injured, it's just how I sleep (particularly on drugs). 

Everyone listened and laughed as we then Bayside High fived solidifying not only our friendship but pride from my side in that I was truly relinquishing control on every level. I knew enough of the basics of how to get back, but anything and everything that I've ever considered a "crutch" was now gone. Radical self relience is one of the "pillars" of the burn, and as a do-er I was proud to check that one off first. 

We then walked down as a group to the "main playa area" and for the first time saw "The Man" (which actually burns) the temple (more on that later) and all of the art installations. 

OOHHH, so this is Burning Man, I said outloud as the molly started to kick in. 

The group laughed saying, "she's starting to get it." 

Whatever the "it' was it certainly was colorful, and muchlike my girlfriend said previously it really was like "seeing color for the first time."

Seeing all of the colors ... 

every color ...

EVER .... 

ALL AT ONCE ... 

Overwhelmed I asked if we could go back to the RV for a minute. 

Not a problem, we all agreed as some wanted to change into a onesie for further comfort. 

As I stood by the RV waiting for the rest of the group to change, I bumped into a wizardly looking face that happened to be familiar. 

SHUT UP, I said with pupils the size of saucers. 

"Jen Friel," I said super excited!!!! 

Hi, said the wizard who later identified himself as the Music Man. 

<tangent> See, my gf happens to be a very talented singer, and earlier in the year she wanted to set me up with an executive friend of hers. "You have no idea how similar your personalities are," she pressed. "He's SUPER talented in business, and creative, yet logical. I really think this is a fit." 

Cool, I said not needing much convincing already wanting to shoot myself from the misery of online dating. 

We then went out, and had a great date, but I didn't feel any chemistry. Conversation? Off the charts. Gentleman? Absofuckinglutely. He not only held every door, but brought me flowers. They were carnations (which is considered improper etiquette), but still - it was a gorgeous display. He didn't just "grab something quickly at the store" I could tell a lot of thought went into them, and while that impressed me - it wasn't enough to warrant a second date; I'm too passionate of a person to be with someone I don't feel chemistry with. </tangent> 

Where did you come from? Where are you staying, I asked still completely clueless and not even trying to pretend that I knew what I was talking about. 

He then said where he was staying and I recognized it as one of the sister camps.

"Where are you going?, he asked. 

"I have no idea," I admitted, "which I feel is so poetic in this exact life moment." 

"What do you want to do?" 

"I want to not be in a crowd and I want to be a fly on the wall." 

Done! he said, we're going to go for a walk. 

I shouted into the trailer that I was heading back out, but with everyone on their own "levels" it may or may not have sunk in. 

Radical self reliance ready, Dorothy (my actual middle name) and the Music Man wandered back to the land of Oz. 

We then locked arms as he asked what I was on.

Molly and acid, I admitted. 

NO WAY! He said super excited ... ME TOO!! 

Here, he said handing me a lollipop. Do you have your water? 

Yep, I said pointing down. 

For as "providing the Playa may be" water is one of the scarcest resources, and one of the hardest things to get outside of your own camp. On drugs in general you ABSOLUTELY have to make sure you stay hydrated, but on the Playa? It can mean life or death. 

We then skipped ... or at least attempted to skip (like we were in the Wizard of Oz) ... and somewhere near the scarcely populated Barbie Death Camp (an actual thing), we decided to stop. 

Here, I said pointing at the very large and comfortable stack of pillows and blankets. 

Your wish is my command, said the Music Man. 

Now in a contained space, the acid began to take effect. We both sort of lulled into each other as I laughed thinking how ridiculous all of this was. 

What are the ODDS that I would not only be here with my girlfriend whom I met you through, but we are on the same drugs, AND you happen to be part of our sister camp? 

How do you think we initially met, he asked? 

Oh yeah, I said and thought embarrassed that I couldn't remember much more from our date. 

Do you mind if I touch you? he respectfully asked. 

Of course, I said, leaning into him. 

For your reference, this is called a "cuddle puddle." 

I immediately laughed out loud, saying "what is it with these Burners, man?" I get how beautiful the Playa is, but it's almost like "too much of a good thing." 

I get it, he said, but it can also be so much more. Since it's your first time, you should stay as open minded as you can. You never know what might happen.

True, I said, still recognizing that I needed to abort the attitude. 

We then sank deeper into the puddle as we (poorly) began adopting an English accents pretending that we were faaarrrr better than any one here. 

Is out eliting an elitest a thing? If not, we were hell bent on making it a thing. 

Impressed with his improvisational skills, we whipped wit back and forth for what felt like hours (but might have only been as little as a half hour)Acid alters your perception of time. 

Having our own version of fun attracted more attention, and as the bodies began to dive past a dip into the puddle, I said to the Music Man that we should go back and check in on our friends. 

Not a problem, he said immediately picking up the "I don't want to be around people" cue. "Don't forget your water," he reminded. 

I then reached for the water in the pile of puddle, and realized I couldn't find it. 

"Excuse me, I said to one of the new water dwellers, do you see a water bottle under the blankets somewhere?" 

Yes, he said handing me the bottle (with the top off) served with a side of attitude. 

"And what's this?" he dramatically shouted ... "it's WET?!"

We both stared in unison for either a minute or an hour, ignoring his ignorance and (I think) immediately about faced bursting into laughter. 

Turning to the Music Man, I said, "I piddled in a cuddle puddle." 

His accent (better than mine), responded with, "we piddled in the puddle, oh heavens to Betsy what a whoopsie daisy!" 

In stitches, we somehow not only managed to compose ourselves enough to walk, but the Music Man managed to navigate us back to my RV within a period of time that wasn't considered annoying. 

We both jumped out of the cold and into the now dark RV. 

What's that, we both passionately mumbled with blood full of molly and mouths full of lollis? 

  

One of our friends accidentally left a set of lights inside one of the backpacks and because it was the only thing lit (outside of ourselves) inside the RV - it not only caught our attention, it became the center of our universe. 

We did what two normal people would do in that situation ... and bowed down to it. 

You know that cliche photo of "what the center of the universe" might look like?? That's EXACTLY what these lights looked like reflected from the backpack. 

Now on the floor and on our knees we inched closer continued to be FASCINATED by our findings.

I then grabbed my phone (which happened to be right next to the center of the universe) and began recording a video (for shits and giggles just for us to have of what this bag actually looked like whenever we were sober again)

"IT LOOKS LIKE THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE," I said in a shrill high pitch, POUNDING the couch cushion (which had been turned into a bed) "and I love how the center of the universe appeared in a backpack to two people in an RV at Burning Man." 

"We mustn't think," said the Music Man. "We must just observe." 

"IT'S ONLY MONDAY," I SHOUTED mentally dipping from a wildly crazy creative capacity to a hilariously logical "WTF ARE WE ACTUALLY DOING" perspective. 

Sure, we both knew we weren't literally looking at the center of the universe, but in that moment none of it mattered. Spar after spar we intellectually "yes and-ed" (a basic rule of improv) ourselves throughout the rest of the evening. 

In total we managed to spend 13 (actual) hours in the RV together.

We are both people that like to break things down, so we talked about social constructs, our family dynamics (from both a nature and nurture perspective), where the universe is going (which was technically rude since it was staring at us in the face) and what our "actual" intentions were (meaning the things we didn't want to admit outloud to even ourselves)

Sometime later, I woke up in my little ball on the bed next to the center of the universe.

Music Man was standing on the steps of the RV staring at what I don't know, but what I did know was that the room was still "breathing." 

"Look at this wallpaper," I said pointing to the wall. 

"Wooahhh," he said still feeling the effects. 

Moments later, my gf entered asking "what happened in here last night?" 

"What do you mean," I asked naively. 

"We came back a few hours ago and you were curled up into a little ball on the floor and my friend was standing over what looked like your lifeless body. My very first thought was, 'he killed Jen,' but then I remembered what you said about curling up into a little ball is your thing." 

"We were worshipping the center of the universe, I admitted. I took a video if you want to see!" 

Of course you did, she said. 

The Music Man then sat down on the bed next to me as my gf opened the RV door to get some air. 

One by one FIVE people individually creeped over asking "what happened in here last night? We couldn't tell if Jen was getting murdered of if you guys were having sex." 

"Neither," we said laughing. 

"Murder or sex? I love the polarities. I guess we were louder than we thought," I whispered. 

"Did you guys put the stabilizer down to the RV?" he asked. 

"What's that?" I asked. 

"I'm going to say no, so anytime we moved around last night the RV would shake." 

The curiosity of the group satisfied, their immediate follow up question was "what were you guys on exactly?" 

Sometime later, the group wanted to nap, so I bid the Music Man adieu and went on a solo adventure to the camp next door. I didn't want to go far, but wanted to be anywhere other than the RV that I just spent 13 hours in. 

The party was as "in effect" as the drugs of the participants, so I curled myself up on the couch and began people watching. (The room was STILL breathing for me at this point.) 

"Hi," said a guy sitting down next to me.  

"Hi," I said back not super enthused to be talking to anyone. 

"What's your intention?" he asked (which is the Burn social equivalent of asking someone their name, which Playa "names" are also a thing)

"I want to get married and have a family. I'm at a really great place in my career and want to plan what's next." 

"You can find that here no problem," he said with a smile that wasn't "flirtatious" but rather honest. 

"I'm not impressed easily," I admitted, "and I also won't settle. I enjoy my alone time too much." 

"What did you do last night," he asked? 

Without skipping a beat, I said "I spent 13 hours on the floor of our RV worshipping the center of the universe which happened to be in a gray backpack." 

Nearly spitting out his water he said, "that's one of the coolest stories I've heard from anyone's Burning Man experience." 

I then told him about the camp wondering if I was being murdered or having sex. 

"You were with someone?" 

"Yeah," I said. "A guy I went out on a date with earlier in the year actually. I didn't think we had any chemistry so I said no to a second date." 

"How was last night?" 

"Hilariously amazing," I said. "The fact that people thought I was either being murdered or having sex says it all, and I'd do it all over again." 

He then turned and regurgitated what I said, "Okay, let me get this straight, you want to get married and start a family, AND you just spent 13 hours with a man staring at the center of the universe, yet you don't think you have chemistry and you are sitting here by yourself. Does he want to get married and have children?" 

"Yes," I said remembering that that actually came up in conversation. 

"Then you have your answer," he said. "Go find him." 

I smiled and thanked him, not entirely convinced myself. Maybe it was the room that was still slightly breathing, but my stubborn self wasn't willing to accept something so simple. 

Sometime later, I then went back to our camp where the Music Man was still staying and the only meal I ate that day was being served. 

Scared of showing him my "I think I might like you card" I kept any and all contact to a minimum. 

"I'm going to take a disco nap," I said to the group. 

One full night's of sleep worth later, I was awoken by a shivering Music Man crawling into my bed. 

"I need body heat," he said. 

Without thought, I wrapped my body and blankets around him. (This is a thing at Burning Man, when someone asks you something, if you are comfortable with it, you just do it.) 

Still shivering, I kissed him on the cheek and got up to get him some water. 

I had no idea who was on what at that point, but in that moment no questions needed answers. I just saw that he needed someone, and I was there. 

I then laid down next to him placing my mouth near his - but not touching. 

I wanted to kiss him, but also thought about the consequences of my actions. If I do this, I thought, I am going to have to then see this person FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK IN VERY CLOSE PROXIMITY. What if he's a bad kisser and then I choose not to have sex with him and then we had this like weird kinda awkward make out moment? The last thing I wanted to do was layer any sort of responsibility on myself. Radical self reliance for the win, I kissed him on the cheek one last time before retiring back to sleep myself. 

The next morning we woke up, and began playing a game of Cards Against Humanity (reigning champion right here). I didn't ask about the night before, nor care to even bring it up. 

"Thank you for taking care of me," he said quietly in a private moment as he swiftly and firmly went in with an open mouth and one very hot, very quick, and VERY passionate kiss on my lips. 

He then got up to go back to his camp, as I formally accepted my mission. 

Friel, this is the man you are going to have sex with I thought to myself, and your next move is to figure out how you are going to have sex with this man. 

<tangent> My intention at Burning Man was, sure to have sex, but more importantly to meet a guy who had similar goals as I did. The reality of that actually happening?? That part didn't even register.

Statistically speaking, I average 434 (unique) messages a week on dating apps, and have a one in 217 chance of actually going out on a date with someone. Sure, there were 80,000 people here, but I didn't really want to talk to any of them. The fact that I knew this person beforehand was the key and now that I knew we had chemistry, it was GAME ON. </tangent> 

I then ventured over to a neighboring camp in an attempt avoid him at all costs, and proceeded to ponder my next doable actions. 

I have no idea why on Earth people keep me in the shot, but here is the EXACT face I make as I plot how to pound a person. 

Logistics are everything at Burning Man. I not only had to find a way for us to get alone time, but also make sure I was as fresh and clean as I possibly could be (which is great since our RV had a shower), and also keep it all a secret (incase if for whatever reason a part of my plan backfired)

I then apple cider vinegared myself past a point that anyone would consider healthy and went over to his camp in my astronaut onesie (which I found appropriate considering our previous engagement)

"Let's go do drugs and be weird together," I said equally as firm. 

"Done!" he said, offering up some shrooms. 

We walked the Playa for the next (however many) hours as he guided me from the crowds and kept me safe from art cars, creepers, and smelly porta potties. 

Emotionally this entire process had made me feel vulnerable and submissive, but here I was in a physical sense also submitting to someone (something I had never done before). 

How did I not notice how dominant he is? I thought knowing how big of an UNBELIEVABLE turn on that is and something I've wanted for quite some time. 

Remember this video? ... 

This was seven years ago. I still have yet to let a man put me in handcuffs.  

<tangent> It's not at all a disrespect to the other incredible men I have been with and dated, but you can only get what you are wiling to give. I have an entire career due to the fact that I have had difficulties with intimacy, and I recognized that I wasn't ready until now for this life experience. I had to be in a situation where I was TOTALLY out of sorts, completely out of control, and emotionally present enough to see what was right in front of my face. 

I wasn't afraid of going to Burning Man itself, I was afraid of the person I would come back as and as I quickly discovered, I was a virgin in every way possible.  

Here I was LITERALLY "making it through the wilderness ..."

"somehow I made it through ..."

"didn't know how lost I was until I found you ..." (or myself in this case which made me capable of giving myself to another person) 

</tangent> 

Back at the RV, I return the favor he gif-ted. 

"To the shiftpod," I said quietly as we (again) not so quietly began ripping each others' clothes off.  

Hydration was for once not an issue as we began having sex ... on the floor ... for two FULL hours. 

In that moment ... ::insert song title here:: 

and while I wasn't sure if I was ... ::insert song title here:: 

I felt the ... ::insert song title here:: 

Knowing fully in this moment that ... ::insert song title here:: 

and never in my ... ::insert song title here:: 

did I think sex could feel like this. 

He wham 

Bammed 

And thank you ma'amed me into a series of

the most intense orgasms I've ever had. 

Unable to move at one point, I joked as I realized I had grabbed the pole to the shiftpod so hard that it looked like I actually broke it. 

I couldn't tell if it was the shrooms, or the fact that our bodies that just merged so well together. I didn't care to analyze why what was happening when it was happening, all I knew was to go WITH whatever was happening and to just let it all happen. 

Oh oh! And because costumes were ready and available, I was also able to cross off "roleplaying" from my life list. 

"Grab that plaid onesie and paper towel roll" was a sentence that actually came out of my mouth. Executing LumberJack fantasies, FTW! (Take that Cards Against Humanity!) 

We had sex as an astronaut, unicorn, snowman, and pilot. We had sex in the RV, in the shiftpod, in the shower (not turned on because our bodies were already physically turned on and we weren't wasteful). I had so much sex with this man that I can now OWN the title of "sex blogger." 

<tangent> I've always laughed when someone says this is a sex blog. Yes, the word sex is next to the headline, but I DON'T HAVE SEX. HOW CAN I BE A SEX BLOGGER IF I DON'T HAVE SEX? </tangent> 

I could feel a confirmation of confidence grow as I quieted the analytical mind, and started speaking to and from my body. I was not only FULLY comfortable in my own skin, I was able to share that with someone else and experience pleasure in an entirely new way. 

WHO HAS SEX FOR TWO HOURS?!?! That was just that one time too!!! Do you know how PAINFUL your jaw and lady bits get like after an hour?? I'm also being banged on the floor of a tent, AND NOTHING MATTERED except the fact that this person was inside of me. 

And come to find out ... 

it was only just the beginning. 

#nerdsunite

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