Figuring out where to swing is a tough thing. Our little town in middle America is too small. There is a bar that is rumored to be a swinger club. I have friends that won’t go there because they are afraid of… I don’t know what, a man sticking his penis up her skirt? A woman trying to kiss her in the bathroom? Mr. DoublePlay and I have been to the bar many times. We have seen nothing that would set off our Lifestyle detector. But others swear it’s happening there. Whispers continue of people putting keys in a hat and going home with whatever keys are drawn.
As a swinger myself I am skeptical about the ‘keys in a hat’ story. That is hard-core swinging. Swinging away from your partner at least to us is a huge deal. Part of me thinks that would be the least likely type of swinging to find in a small town. Then again, given how people talk, maybe it’s the only kind you will find—people who do not give a rat’s ass who knows their status.
Those are the kind of swingers that I fear. Not someone who will kiss me in the bathroom. I’d kind of like that, actually. But swingers who have no discretion themselves. Because if they have no discretion themselves, they aren’t likely to have discretion about Mr. DoublePlay and I either. And we definitely would prefer to remain discrete.
I have a co-worker who is rumored to be a swinger. I live in fear of running in to him at a club. He is just the kind that would be fine sharing his status AND mine at the next staff meeting. That would be my worst nightmare. It’s a judgmental world. Not to mention, I think part of what we like about the Lifestyle is the double life aspect of it. It keeps it sexy. Mysterious. It raises the endorphins when we feel like we’re being wild and crazy.
We used to be even more cautious. We tried to use assumed names. Tried to say we lived in another town. But it just got too hard. Especially after a couple of drinks. And really, part of the fun of the Lifestyle is talking about life—life that is broader than sex. And with too many lies that can be hard to do. Not that I talk about my kids or family or even my job much. We try to avoid the mundane. But we do talk about ourselves—in between flirting, caressing, admiring.
Sure, we’ve had our moments where our anonymous veil was punctured. Like the time I realized I was flirting with my UPS man—at a party 6 hours and state away from my home town. Go figure. Sometimes you can take all the precautions in the world and still vanilla life sneaks in. Luckily Mr. UPS is as discreet as I am. But my packages do always arrive on time.