Posted by: thatswingingthing on: January 19, 2010
After several months of discussing various forms of “swinging,” he and I finally took the plunge a couple of weekends back. We had just moved to a new state and didn’t really know anybody in our new locale, so we threw caution to the wind, declared a final “what-the-hell” and signed up for a club.
Our first visit to the Club was passive, to say the least. The crowd was sparse, but it gave us a chance to mingle with the few guests in attendance. We took in the Club while conversing with the club owners and a few regulars over drinks. The atmosphere was casual, honest, open, albeit dingy and smoke-filled. We felt comfortable.
“You guys HAVE to come back next weekend,” the owner exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically, sloshing the drink in her outstretched hand with marked enthusiasm. “It’s one of the biggest parties of the year!”
I gazed at him skeptically. “What are we doing next weekend, honey?”
He shrugged. “I guess we’re swinging.”
