The old maxim goes like this: What’s the difference between involved and committed? At breakfast, the chicken is involved, but the pig is committed.
In the days following our first great swinging experience, Mrs. Said and I have been a team on a mission: setting up dinners to meet prospective partners, responding to inquiries on the dating sites, talking about swing-friendly vacations….
But there have been brief periods where we talked about stuff in our vanilla lives, of course.
We have a little in-law apartment in our house. For the past couple years we’ve had a college kid (“K”) living there trading out babysitting time for free rent. She is a very social girl with a constant stream of visitors. The apartment is separated from the rest of the bedrooms just enough that we can’t hear each other. Perfect.
In this stream of visitors, one guy in particular caught Mrs. Said’s attention. By all objective measures, he is cute. Mrs. Said kept asking K if they were dating. “No, just friends” was the consistent answer. Then her brother ratted K out and told us they were dating. Cute twenty-something puppy love.
Since we are so happy with our arrangement (who wouldn’t love NOT having to cough up the better part of $100 in cash at the end of date night), I asked Mrs. Said “What are we going to do if K gets married?”
She thought about the question for approximately 50 milliseconds and replied “Convert the apartment to a f*ck palace.” Bwahahahaha. As impractical and improbable as that idea is, that is the exact moment at which I knew Mrs. Said was committed.
She’s a swinger.
