I’ve kind of hit this point where I don’t really care if people know about the open marriage that G and I have. While I am not going to go out and broadcast it, I am far from hiding it anymore.
I realized I had hit this point a few months ago when our friends were staying with us for the weekend – and we were all sans kids. G had forgotten his house key thus locking he and his playmate out of the house. We drove back to the house, tossed them my key, and told them to have fun as we were getting a beer at our favorite bar a few blocks away. Then off we went, arm in arm, in front of our longtime neighbors and everything – in the middle of the day. I didn’t even think about it until we came back holding hands – middle of the afternoon. I still didn’t care, but was taken back by the fact I was aware I didn’t care.
When we first started swinging, it was all about being discrete. Very few couples would have any sex talks in a bar or restaurant. Most people we knew were so insanely hell bent on keeping the swingers in their life away from their “real lives” that it was almost insulting especially when the goal on everyone’s profiles and conversations was to “find friends with benefits”. Great, you found the benefits, but how can you be friends too? In many cases, I took that friends part as meaning, “the conversation before we fuck won’t turn me off by insulting or annoying me, so let’s go fuck”.
What we both started learning pretty quickly though was that the people we connected with the most – the people we had fun with the most in the bedroom – we had a great connection with outside of the bedroom. These became people we cared about. We talked about our days. We talked about woes. We had hot, kinky sex whenever we got together. We had family meals. We checked in on each other when sick. We were truly friends.
The trend I noticed overall is that the kinkier the men (and women) I connected with, the better friends we seemed to be. I liked that trend because I found two things. The first is that they knew how to push my boundaries in ways most could not in the past. The second which is related to the first is that they could read me because they knew me. This allowed me to trust them in ways I didn’t trust most playmates. I knew they would not knowingly hurt me. I knew that they would check in if they were unsure. I knew a safe word would never be needed because they could tell by tone of voice, body language, etc if I was done or not comfortable. And with one person, he seems to know exactly when I know. He is a perceptive fellow.
As these people started being fixtures in my life – fixtures next to the vanilla people that were also there – fixtures next to the family – I started realizing how little I cared if someone found out. Being caught at a Twisted Party by coworkers, I seriously found it funny. Two years ago, I would have freaked. Today, I don’t care at all.
Making out in a crowded bar in a booth with someone other than my husband? Yes please. I don’t even think about running into someone I know. I’ll cross that bridge if it comes. Kinky, sexy talk there too? If we are overheard, I’m sure we are giving someone one hell of a story to tell their friends later about what they overheard in the bar.
We had a longtime friend figure out we were open. It’s led to some great conversations. Our roommate and good friend who still reads my blog found out, and loves reading the escapades. He shared his with me.
This weekend, I’ll be talking to a longtime friend about everything. She and her husband (as I found out) are also open – newly open from the looks of it. I know she would freak out if she stumbled across us on her own, so I’m going to lay it on the table as no big deal. Because, to me, it isn’t a big deal.
I guess it is this experience with people finding out coupled with the fact it is our relationship – not anyone else’s – that has shifted my thinking. Who knows. I do know there is something freeing about it. I like that feeling.