Swinging by a Thread: The Misadventures of an Accidental Swinger

by Audra Morgan

  I mentioned a while back that I’ve been going to the same bars for twenty years, so I’m certainly not one to judge a “regular” at an establishment. What distinguishes these couples is not the fact that they are there at the club, but the behaviors members of this group seem to share in common. I believe the hardcore swinger represents only about ten or fifteen percent of swingers at the most; however, the image most regular folks seem to have of swingers lines up pretty accurately with this group. It’s frankly what I expected to see on that first visit to the club, and it’s the image the media likes to portray. It also, in my opinion, paints a sad, dim view of the swinging community, and it’s a rather depressing group, once you get past the initial impression that they seem to be having the most fun of anyone at the club.

  First off, the hardcore swingers follow a very specific code of dress, and they can’t be missed the moment you walk into a club. The women are decked out in the latest stripper fashions: gold lame, sequins, dresses made of less fabric than a string bikini, accompanied by big hair, lots of makeup, and mile high stilettos. I actually had one woman confront me at the club and inform me that my wedge sandals were “completely ridiculous” footwear for a swing club. She gave me a disgusted hair flip before hobbling away in her ill-fitting 5 inch heels. The hardcore swinger men can be spotted easily by their button down shirts emblazoned with embroidered or bedazzled crosses, wings, and other designs. It truly seems as though there’s a uniform, and anyone who wishes to join the clique quickly learns what they’re expected to wear.

  The hardcore swinger can also be identified, in many cases, by their behavior. Couples walk in with each other, but don’t ever really seem to be “together.” They are on the prowl, and they do not consider sticking together for the night an option. Within moments of arriving, they are scanning the bar for a potential playmate, and they rarely fail to find one. We even had one guy proclaim to us, “We didn’t come here to have sex with each other. We’ll find someone to play with, no matter what.” We found that to be a rather sad statement, on more than one level, and we made a mental note to steer very clear of that couple in the future.

  This particular group of swingers also seems to have an almost desperate need for attention. One couple we have run into at the club is a particularly salient example of this phenomenon. One night they arrived, and it was evident the wife was already inebriated. They sat at the bar and ordered three shots of tequila. The man handed two shots to his barely-standing wife, and she immediately downed them. She proceeded to climb up onto the barstool, then onto the bar, and began to dance around in what I’m sure was intended to be a suggestive fashion. It was, in fact, merely a sad display of a drunk woman attempting not to tumble face-forward off the bar. When her dancing didn’t garner the desired attention, she proceeded on to the small stage on the dance floor, where she twirled around, unnoticed, on the stripper pole. Thirty minutes or so later they were approached by a couple and went upstairs for some fun. We’ve seen this scenario play out, in similar fashions, maybe 15 times with this same couple. The mating dance of the hardcore swinger.

  This subset of swingers, of course, are more than welcome to do their own thing, but we avoid them not only because they just don’t suit our personal aesthetic, but also because we tend to be rather selective with our sex partners, while they are often very much of the “anything goes” mentality. In fact, that mentality is so strong that they tend to think anyone who doesn’t share it is not really a swinger. We’ve been called various names, and accused of snobbery, because we so often will visit a club together, socialize with a few people, then either head home, or enjoy some sexy fun with each other without asking anyone else to join in. We have great sex on our own, so we hardly feel compelled to “trade down” for a random couple we’re not terribly into, just because we paid a hefty door fee to be there. Oddly enough, it seems that’s exactly what many other couples do.

  Chapter Five

  Swinging for Three, or the Perils of Finding a Third

  Okay, enough with the bitching, for now, at least, back to the funny stuff. Somewhere along the crazy, winding path of swinging, Tyler and I decided it might be fun to try some threesomes. We were finding it increasingly difficult to meet couples we both found attractive, so we figured finding a third person to have some fun with might increase our odds of having a good, drama-free experience. You can probably guess by now that we were very, very wrong about that.

  Our first threesome encounter was the result of a connection through a regular, “vanilla” dating site. I was out with our kids at a birthday party, and when I called Tyler to let him know I was on the way home, he told me that he’d been chatting all afternoon with a woman from the dating site who had emailed him. She seemed really cool and was attractive as well, and she wanted to meet us. Soon. It was a Sunday, and I was exhausted, so I suggested perhaps we meet her for a drink on Monday, after work. By the time I arrived home, plans had already been made.

  We chose a bar fairly close to our house, as we had a sitter for our kids for only a short while. We met Marcy around six o’clock, and we found the conversation flowed quite nicely, despite the fact that she seemed to mention her “crazy ex-husband” a little too frequently for our tastes. We explained to her that we had to head home at seven, and she offered to follow us there and hang out a bit more. And by “offer”, I mean she pretty much insisted. We felt rather awkward in that moment, not quite knowing how to tell her no, so we invited her to come along with us. She didn’t seem to want to leave, and by ten or so, it was far past time to put our kids to bed, and I finally told her it was time to say goodnight. She said she hoped we could hang out again soon, and we said we’d touch base the next day to make plans.

  There were some warning signs of weirdness here, but we overlooked them in favor of instead focusing on the promise of our first threesome. Single women are called “unicorns” in the swinger world for two primary reasons: they’re incredibly difficult to find, and everyone wants to “catch” one. Why pass this one up just because she seemed to be a bit nuts? Marcy emailed us the next morning, suggesting we get together again Wednesday night. This time, we were able to make arrangements for our kids to spend the night out so that we could make the most of our time. She met us at our house, we went out for drinks, then we came home and finally had that threesome we’d been hoping for. It was okay, but not mind-blowing on any level; as usual, though, Tyler and I had amazing sex with each other after she went home.

  This is when things began to get weird. Marcy emailed us both constantly over the next 24 hours, and she insisted we hang out again Friday night. We weren’t used to spending that much time with anyone, but we agreed. There was a club that played good industrial music on Fridays, and we thought that might make for a fun night of drinking and dancing. She again met us at our house, and we drove downtown in the hopes of a good night out. Well, the first hint that this wasn’t going to work out came when she texted her ex-husband nonstop for two hours, beginning with the moment we got in our car. In between texts, she went on, and on, and on, about how crazy he was, but how much she loved him, and she proceeded to tell us, in great detail, about the many problems he was having in his life.

  Now, we’re not cold, unfeeling people. But we didn’t know this guy, and honestly, we barely knew Marcy. We just wanted to hang out, make idle chit chat, drink, and dance. The conversation grew more and more annoying, and I drank more and more, in the hopes of numbing myself to the situation. Marcy announced she had “forgotten” to bring any money, so we paid for her drinks, and even for some food when she mentioned she had also “forgotten” to eat before meeting up with us. We bar-hopped our way to our destination, and we found the crowd was already going strong, and people were on the dance floor enjoying the music. Okay, I decided, we can turn this night around with some dancing. Marcy and I both hit the dance floor, but when I attempted to dance with her, she literally pushed me away from her. “I don’t dance with people to this music,�
� she proclaimed before dancing off in the other direction. No problem. I danced alone, which I’ve never minded doing. Within minutes, Marcy was back on her phone, texting away, and she found a spot in the corner where she could sit and text without distraction. When we tried to talk to her, she acted as though we were interrupting something terribly important.

  Twenty minutes later, I was officially over it. I realized she had some issues we just didn’t want to deal with, and I saw absolutely no reason to continue the night. I informed her we were leaving, and after what seemed like an hour-long drive home, during which she literally sobbed non-stop in the back seat, she got in her own car and headed to her house. I emailed her the next morning, explaining that I just didn’t think things would work out with the three of us, and that I wished her the best. Her response was to send no fewer than twenty emails and texts over the course of the next two days. Finally, I’d had enough, and I sent her a message informing her we wanted no further contact, period. And that was that. Or so I thought.

  A month later, I was sitting at home reading my kids a book on the sofa. We were all in our pajamas, enjoying a nice, rainy summer day. A car stopped in front of our house, and I saw a woman approaching the door. The doorbell rang, and I opened it to find Marcy standing there, clutching an Avon catalog. I’m not normally shaken quite so easily, but knowing how off-balance this woman seemed to be, and knowing that I was home alone with my kids, I felt vulnerable, and I was angry that she had the audacity to show up unannounced at my home, after we’d made it clear we wanted no further contact. I smiled and acted “normal”, but I was regretting coming to the door, and I was hoping she would leave. She asked about Tyler, asked how we’d been doing, and finally thrust the catalog at me. I thanked her, then I told her I had to get ready for a doctor’s appointment. It was the first thing I could think of saying to get rid of her. She went on her way, but she stopped by twice more over the next few months, both times with new catalogs. I did not answer the door. We breathed a big sigh of relief when we learned she’d moved out of state. No more Avon catalogs, and no more psycho women on our doorstep.

  That was a particularly strange encounter for us, and a little more unsettling than most of our interactions with people have been. In fact, we have had several successful, problem-free threesomes with women since then, and it’s restored our faith in single women. Still, from perusing the various online swinger sites, it remains our opinion that many, if not most, single women in the swing community are more than a little bit nuts. And while that may not be true of men in the swinger community, our first encounter with a single guy was insane and disturbing beyond our wildest dreams.

  We were both more than a little hesitant to even seek out a man for a threesome; when we finally took the plunge, we chose someone who was anything but the stereotypical swinger guy. Jacob was in his early twenties, a pre-med student, and had never had any sort of swinging experience at all. He was eager to try it, though, and we felt he was the perfect candidate for our first encounter. We met for drinks, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. He and I seemed to have chemistry, and Tyler felt comfortable with him. After that initial meeting, we made plans to get together a second time for something a bit more intimate.

  That next encounter happened a few weeks later. We met Jacob for dinner, and again, conversation flowed well and we all got along swimmingly. After dinner, I rode with Jacob to our house, and Tyler drove our car. Jacob seemed a little nervous, but then again, all of us were, so it was all good. Once we got back to our house, I made cocktails for everyone. What I didn’t know at that time was that Jacob was a beer drinker who rarely indulged in hard liquor. He guzzled down three vodkas on the rocks like a pro, and we both kept up with him, assuming we were all achieving equivalent levels of tipsiness. After a while, Tyler got up to excuse himself for a minute. “You two better be making out when I got back,” he said before leaving the room. When he returned, Jacob and I were kissing, and soon all three of us headed to the bedroom.

  Well, let me just say that things started off rocky, but they escalated to traumatic in no time flat. Jacob, while claiming to be intrigued by the MFM threesome dynamic, clearly had no concept of it at all. He seemed to want to fuck me while Tyler watched from afar, rather than having Tyler join in the fun. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation without making things weird, so I just went along with it for a bit. Then, what to this day is still considered the most horrific thing that’s ever taken place while swinging, happened. The vodka caught up with him. And he threw up. All over me.

  Nothing ruins an already awkward sexual experience like vomit. I can say that with a good bit of authority. In the hour following the traumatic event, I led him to the bathroom where he continued to puke, I showered and got dressed, I washed our sheets and blankets, and then I sat with this boy I hardly knew, on my bathroom floor, comforting him as he continued to be sick. It was one of those moments that was too surreal for words, yet I will never, ever forget it.

  Needless to say, we couldn’t kick him out in the street to drive home. We also had no guest room, so he ended up spending the night. In our bed. Our night of fun had been derailed, and now Tyler and I couldn’t even have any fun on our own, because a sick boy was passed out less than a foot away from us. We got little sleep that night, and we both assumed that once the sun came up, Jacob would fly out the door like a bat out of hell, wanting to avoid the awkwardness that was sure to ensue. Well, that didn’t quite work out. We all woke up, and he just sort of…lingered. I don’t know if he felt weird to just leave, or what, but he stayed so long, our kids came home from their sleepover and he was still there. “Oh, a friend stopped by,” we told our confused daughter. Jacob proceeded to make origami flowers with her in our living room as I sat there in stunned amazement.

  Finally, I announced my intentions to pick up lunch for Tyler and the kids. Yes, it was lunch time, and he was still there. Jacob thankfully took that as his cue to leave, and he finally informed us he was going to head home. After some incredibly awkward hugs goodbye, he was on his way. A week later, we noticed he’d deleted his profile from the swinger website. Tyler and I both agreed that was a good move, for his sake as well as for the sake of any couples he may have ended up meeting. Swinging wasn’t his thing; and clearly, neither was vodka.

  I’d love to tell you that since that horrific experience we’ve had some amazing encounters with single guys. But I’d be lying. While we’ve had some fun times with guys we were already friends with, we’ve had absolutely no luck with meeting guys online and having positive sexual encounters with them. We’ve tried exceedingly hard to be selective, to weed out the weirdoes, and to find guys we thought would be a good fit. This has resulted in several slightly less nightmarish, yet equally pointless, experiences. One guy seemed cute, smart, and funny; then he brought us back to his apartment, where his long-haired Chihuahua proceeded to jump in the bed with us as we had sex. Let me just say, nothing other than vomit will spoil the mood like picking Chihuahua hair off someone’s penis while attempting to give them a blow job. I still shudder when I remember that. Our most recent experience involved a guy who seemed super attracted to me, but it turned out he was actually into Tyler, and he lost his erection whenever he got near me. Talk about a boost to the ego! Tyler and I ended up having sex while the guy lay there, limp, watching us. We were thrilled to get out of that room. Our search continues for a single guy who won’t let us down. I refuse to give up hope!

  Chapter Six

  Swing Club Etiquette, or Really? Did You Just Touch Me There?

  The first couple we met on that fateful December night was right; you tend to get hit on and accosted less at a swing club than at a regular bar or club. This fact, however, applies only to the areas of the club where you drink, talk, dance, and remain clothed. There are strict rules in place to prevent unwanted attention and touching in all areas of a swing club, but unfortunately, security can’t prevent morons from blatantly ignoring these rules in the
“play areas” of a club. We’ve witnessed, and experienced, more than a few cases of people simply having no boundaries whatsoever, and no clue how to conduct themselves in a swing club atmosphere. It tends to ruin the mood for everyone involved, and it’s a shame people don’t take the time to fully read and comprehend the rules they agree to when they pay for a membership at a club.

  Our first such experience was more a case of our own ignorance of the rules of the club we’d joined; however, it’s worth sharing, in the hopes of sparing someone else a similar unwanted encounter. We went to the club one Saturday night, and there was a couple who was very interested in us; however, the interest was not at all mutual. In the hopes of finding a quiet spot where they wouldn’t see us or attempt to join us, we went into what was called the “group room” because it contained six king sized beds, all joined together, in one large room. The sign at the entryway indicated that everyone who entered must be fully unclothed. No one else was there, so we undressed and went in, assuming that would be a perfect quiet spot to “hide” from the couple who seemed all too interested in us. We climbed all the way to the far corner of the room, figuring it would be more “private.”

  Twenty minutes or so passed, and we were so lost in enjoying each other that we hardly noticed the room beginning to fill up. Soon, there were at least ten other couples around us, all doing their own thing. Then, much to my surprise, I felt a hand, stroking the sole of my foot. I absolutely hate having my feet touched, and I looked up at Tyler, wondering why he would do this to me when he knew I hated it. It was then that I realized it wasn’t Tyler, but rather a naked man, who seemed to not be with a woman, despite the fact that it was a “couples only” night. I quickly whispered to Tyler that we needed to scoot away from this man, and we did. I attempted to recover from the sole of my foot being molested, and we returned to having sex and ignoring the goings on around us.