I was recently reminded of the extensive growth my husband and I have experienced since we began our lifestyle journey six years ago. We were attending a hotel takeover a few hours away. We planned to reunite with two couples we’re close with. Since my change in mindset of requiring a connection with others before adding them to my list of sexual partners, having friends attend events has become my comfort zone. Not only as potential fuck buddies, but for easy company in situations I may feel less socially adventurous. After check in we made our way to the pool for the day party. It was entertaining enough. Topless chicken fights, licking my friend’s asshole while my husband held her out of the water, a makeout and grind session with one of my favorites. We met a few attractive couples, but I wasn’t feeling the excitement or desire that would presumably follow. I probably seemed reserved, not my typically chatty friendly self. Maybe it was too much party and not enough substance. Maybe it was fear of avoiding advances. Or that it seemed like a chore to initiate those introductory conversations. Or perhaps my mind was elsewhere, wondering how it might be if J were there. How I wouldn’t feel pressure to play the game. I could have those flirty sexual conversations, share raunchy laughs with friends old and new. Without being the odd woman out. He would be my fuck buddy for the night. I wouldn’t have to try, it wouldn’t feel like work. I could be me and simply enjoy the atmosphere.
I showered my husband with affection, clinging to him like a nervous newbie would. My way of filling in the blanks to deter other men from viewing me as approachable. It’s awkward being the swinger who doesn’t swing. I likely bring most of that pressure on myself. I feel there’s an expectation, that I have to live up to a title. A title that once encompassed freedom and prowess, but no longer fits as perfectly as it did. The reality is, a majority of swingers won’t judge others for declining advances. We’ve all been the swinger in a situation we weren’t playing, for a multitude of reasons. My self imposed discomfort revolves around me being a non-confrontational woman who enjoys being liked by the masses. I’ve been regarded as this balls to the wall, up for anything, hilariously blunt, aggressive sexual goddess. Men worshipped me and I reveled in the constant attention. I was always down to fuck. A cock hungry slut. I owned it. And loved it. I possessed a certain power and status that sent my confidence through the roof.
Times have changed. Who am I now that only some of those descriptions hold true? Where do I fit in? Am I still fun, will I be perceived as such? How do I forgo sex with friends I’ve gladly accepted in the past? Can I be my naturally flirty self or will that be construed as an invitation to spread my legs? Do I owe them an explanation? Will feelings and egos be damaged? Will our friendships persist? A lot to consider and work through mentally. I tell myself not to worry about disappointing others, that if I’m kind, respectful, and honest I will continue to be adored. That there is a place for everyone. We all have something going on in our lives and heads. I must simply do what feels right for me.
Watching my husband in party mode pleased me. Mingling with strangers, flirting with cute girls. Since our venture into dating separately, his confidence has doubled. When you’ve spent the last sixteen years with someone, your perception of them changes. I was once on the receiving end of those pursuits. The butterflies and electricity of newness. The playful back and forth exchange, building sexual tension. Those things have naturally faded with time, yielding a deeper, more meaningful lasting connection. To view my husband as the instigator, another woman as his target, intrigues me. You forget how witty and funny your spouse can be until you see them in action working their panty dropping game. He seems almost innocent to me in those situations. I’m his cheerleader, “Go get ’em baby!” When I see that spark reciprocated in the woman’s eye, it brings about a contentment in me that I can’t quite describe. Like YES, he is amazing! I want others to know him in the ways I know him. He is worth the time it takes to draw him out of his shell. If you are the right one (and I hope you are) you won’t be disappointed. My husband is a little gift that requires extra time and attention to unwrap. I know someone will see that. I want that for him. He deserves to feel as special as he is. He appreciates my continual attempts to convey that, but it feels different when someone besides your life partner sees you in that divine light.
After a nap, shower, and dinner alone, we checked out the night time party scene. Chatted with old friends, danced in a cage, music was on point. The crowd was above average on the fuckable spectrum. People watching did not disappoint. I continued sipping on my ever present glass of Fireball. I could surely drink myself fun. My husband gravitated toward an attractive newer couple he had connected with once previously. I found little to contribute to the conversation, boredom and sleepiness crept in. It was midnight, a laughable bedtime for experienced swingers at an event with so much potential for hookup. I was reluctant to tell my husband I was ready to turn in for the night. I didn’t want him to feel disappointed or pressured to follow me when he was obviously delighting in the party. I encouraged him to take advantage of the excitement, see what fun the night had in store. We kissed goodnight, both content with our divided paths. He brought me pizza, checked on me twice. (He’s a keeper I tell you.) I curled up under the covers, alone. I texted J, expressing my upset about the off night. He reminded me that we would be together again in just a few weeks. And that was exactly what I needed. His embrace would have been ideal, but his words of comfort have become a fine substitute for his physical warmth. I fell asleep happy. Longing, but happy. My husband ended up having a threesome with the cute new couple. The other husband’s voyeur tendencies were a perfect match for my man, flying solo. I’m sure he fucked her little hole extra hard to fuel her husband as he vigorously stroked his shaft. They took video. Everyone walked away satisfied.
My satisfaction included, as I recalled where we started in this lifestyle and where we are today. I am thankful. We have incredible amounts of trust and honesty. The trust to not deceive or act to harm one another or our marriage. We have respect. Respect in acknowledging and prioritizing the other’s needs and desires. We have acceptance. The acceptance to view each other as individuals with traits and inclinations that aren’t always comfortable, easy, or parallel to our own. We have security. Security in our lifelong commitment to making our marriage work. Above all else. I wasn’t my husband’s wingman or partner in crime that night. He didn’t need me to be. As I didn’t need him to coddle me in my whirlwind of emotional transition and awkwardness. We needed different things in that moment. We shared the love, trust, respect, and understanding required to let go. We set each other free. Content knowing our happiness won’t always be linked, but shall never fail to circle back around and continue together, in the same direction.