thatswingingthing's Blog

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.”


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