When I moved from London to the idyllic Lot region of southern France, I thought I’d left my past life behind—endless commutes, the monotonous gray of the city, and an ex-boyfriend who collected vintage calculators like it was sexy. I imagined a new existence: eating cheese until I cried, frolicking in sunflower fields, and maybe finding a certain joie de vivre among the region’s whispered-about sex cults. But rural France, it turns out, is far more discerning than its racy reputation might suggest.
At first, I threw myself into the basics of rural life: buying baguettes so fresh they burned my hand, learning to drink wine at lunch without falling asleep, and accidentally stepping in goose droppings while trying to Instagram my newfound pastoral chic. Yet beneath the picturesque surface, I yearned for something more than nature walks and market days. I wanted connection, community—an orgiastic release of modern existential angst.
I began my search optimistically, only to be swiftly disappointed. The “Naturalist Tantra Collective” in Figeac dismissed me for bringing a “city energy” that clashed with their forest-themed drum circles. Another group, “L’Amour Fluide,” politely asked me to leave after I expressed a mild preference for monogamy on Tuesdays. I had all but given up when a friend slid me a note at a pottery class: “sexcultinthelot.com—might be your vibe.”
The website, a no-nonsense masterpiece, promised “inclusivity, exploration, and better local wine pairings than other Lot-based sex cults.” Curious, I reached out. The next day, I received a warm email from Beth and Laurent, the co-founders.
Beth, originally from Brighton, described herself as a “spiritual sommelier and former DJ.” Laurent, a native of the Lot, claimed to specialize in “free-range hedonism” and ran a small vineyard producing natural wine. Their manifesto was simple: “We believe in pleasure as liberation, with a strict no-macramé policy.”
“I was tired of these cults pretending to be artisanal but just giving off pyramid-scheme vibes,” Beth told me over rosé during our first meeting at their headquarters (a converted barn with suspiciously few chairs). “Laurent and I wanted something real, you know? Like, sexy but with decent cheese.”
Laurent chimed in, swirling his glass. “We pair people like we pair wine: thoughtfully, and with no judgment if you prefer a Chardonnay to a Syrah. Diversity is key, non?”
They welcomed me with open arms—and some fantastically awkward icebreaker activities. Within weeks, I was attending workshops like “The Art of Sensual Cooking” (spoiler: foie gras is not sexy) and “Yoga for the Over-Thinker.” By the time they hosted their quarterly bacchanal, I’d found a community that finally felt like home—or at least a really weird family reunion.
Sure, I’d moved to the Lot for the food, the scenery, and the grandeur of the French countryside. But what I hadn’t realized was that I’d find a group of people who not only embraced my quirks but shared them. And yes, the local cheeses are divine, but the true taste of freedom came with finding a place where I could finally—and unapologetically—be myself.
Thank you, sexcultinthelot.com. You’ve given me the life I didn’t know I was brave enough to dream of—and a lot more than I bargained for when I Googled “Lot region lifestyle change.”