Some readers have been urging me to find out more about tantric sex—a Buddhism-based practice resulting in mystical experiences and altered states of consciousness. In other words, it’s like taking drugs but not. I’ve also heard that through tantric sex, you can experience a full-body orgasm for a crazy long time, like nine hours. Jeezus, who has room in their schedule for a nine-hour orgasm? I barely have time to do my laundry. But then again, some of us could use a few lessons in time management, while others need to learn to slow down: I’ve met too many guys who are like the McDonald’s of lovemaking—in and out, fast, and predictable. Empty calories.

So I went on the Net and found a couple of interesting Web sites on tantric sex. (This is after sifting through loads of cheap porn and vacation adverts for bachelors who want to meet Russian women.) One useful site (www.tantra.com) gives short essays on sacred sexuality. It says that what is practiced in the West is actually Neo-Tantra, an eclectic mix of various traditions, and that sexuality can be used as a pathway to direct spiritual experience. It’s a cool concept—nowhere does the site mention procreation. Sexuality is the vehicle toward enlightenment, not necessarily toward making babies. However, it doesn’t give any clues as to how to achieve the multihour orgasm.

Another site (www.tantra-sex.com) offers workshops on ejaculation control, extended lovemaking skills, and positions. It also has a program ridiculously named “Passion Pump and Sexual Fire Breath,” which involves muscle contractions, breath control, and “visualization for circulating sexual energy.” Unfortunately, the workshops are held in Ontario. I haven’t found anything in Seattle yet, but maybe it’s best to go far away for something like this. Wouldn’t want to run into your neighbors or co-workers, know what I mean? The site also assures that a partner isn’t necessary. Perhaps they pair you up with someone.

Recently, I’ve been dating a guy who’s not into tantric sex, but seems to be perfect disciple material. He’s very sensual; on every date, we’ve spent hours just kissing and touching. He gets hard, but he hasn’t pressed me to have intercourse yet—this after eight dates. I almost feel like we’re in high school, making out in someone’s basement, teasing the outer reaches of our virginity. Except that it’s so much better, because we’re not in a basement; we’re in my own bed in my own home, and we both know what’s to come, and yet we hold off on the experience. Most adult relationships progress so quickly physically that we often forget the pleasures of waiting, of being teased, driving the senses crazy, getting drunk on desire.

Some time ago, I began to wonder if there was love after jadedness. Or as Cher would sing, “Do you believe in life after love?” After my one-sided love affair with Alien Boy, I almost started to believe that I wouldn’t fall for someone that way again. I mean, it wasn’t the first time I’ve loved and lost. After several bad break-ups, you begin to wonder if you’ll ever be swept away by emotion again. But the heart is persistent; it learns to live again despite your cynical brain. Luckily, after nearly a year, I’ve found someone to love, and my mind and body are like a clean slate, open to new touches, new kisses, new thoughts. It’s pure bliss, and it’s as close to spiritual enlightenment as I’ve gotten—and I’m not even on mushrooms.

Sex columnist Cherry Wong can be reached at cherry@seattleweekly.com. For past columns visit www.cherrywong.com.