Friday, January 18, 2013


This morning I had breakfast in a delightfully tacky diner. My dining companion was a lovely woman I met through work. She's got voluminous wavy hair and shining brown eyes like Judy Garland. Though we're on friendly terms, today was set aside for discussing business. However, try as we might to remain on topic, invariably our conversation strayed to more interesting topics...

Judy is charmingly childlike. Married to the boy she met at 17. their's is the only relationship they've ever known. I assumed she was contentedly nestled into a conservative lifestyle.

I was wrong.

She recently watched a comedy, in which the characters visited a swingers' club. This led her into a quizzical diatribe about what kinds of people would patronize swingers' clubs, where swingers' clubs might exist, what the inside of one might look like...

As I listened to her, I gathered that this wasn't the first time she'd wondered. Though she blanketed her interest with jokes and lightheartedness, swing clubs were a genuine curiosity of hers. In fact, she became so animated in her imaginings, she didn't even hear me when I said, "I've been to one." She kept adorably prattling on about how ridiculous they probably were in real life, how the reality probably wouldn't match the expectation...

She hadn't heard me the first time, and I didn't need to open my mouth again. I almost didn't... My private life is my own, and I (like anyone) am reluctant to divulge something controversial about my sexuality, for fear of judgment. Also, my relationship with this woman was primarily professional. I didn't want to tarnish or confuse our interactions.

But there was something about the way she spoke... telling me she and her husband had even talked about going to one.. "but it would probably be awful. I mean, we'd never ACTUALLY go..." I saw this sizzle in her, this pulsing desire, this voice needing to be heard...

How much had she wondered about this, without the sanctuary of a woman to confide in? How many unanswered questions have floated through her mind...?

I made a decision. And this time I spoke up. "I've been to one."

She froze.

She smiled.

Her enthusiasm skyrocketed.

Pelting me with questions, wanting to hear everything, she listened in rapture as I told her my less-than-fascinating anecdote. She seemed relieved. Relieved to stumble upon someone she could open up to...

She told me about her sex life with her husband. She told me how comfortable she was with her husband admiring other women (not that i know anything about that- wink). And then the kicker.

She said, "I bet there are more couples interested in bringing another woman into their bed, than couples looking for another man."

"There are."

"I mean, because women are more open to experimenting with other women. Generally. Probably."


"Yeah,.. Because, even when you're looking at porn, we're all looking at the women, right? Just because... women are prettier. I mean, they're more visually appealing. In porn."

It was so obvious! So obvious that I knew her story before she had to tell me. She was interested in girls, she and her husband have thought about a threesome, and for one reason or another- it's never happened. I knew it. I was sitting there, listening, and I knew.

So how to get her to admit it?

Well, there's only one way...

I said, "I've had a threesome."

"You have?" Cue wide eyes and that cheek-splitting grin. I affirmed that I had, indeed, had a threesome. More than one. And that they're wonderful.

Guess what? She told me she's interested in girls, she and her husband have thought about a threesome, and it hasn't happened yet. Shocker ;-)

Apparently, a while back she had a friend of hers lined up for the big event. The night before, her friend called and bailed.

Women are SO FLAKY.

I sympathized and encouraged her to try again. These things take time to arrange, but they're worth the effort. She was so genuinely happy to have someone to talk about this to.

Can you believe she hasn't told a soul?

No one but her husband knows about these interests. None of her friends are open or adventurous enough to understand. She keeps it bottled up inside of her. I can't imagine. I'd find it terrible not having a single girlfriend to share my own thoughts and feelings with. I have ONE girlfriend who knows about this blog, and I adore sharing my exploits with her. She's interested and encouraging and insightful. Having these marvelous adventures and keeping them all to myself would be torture. When something delicious or enlightening or terrifying happens to you, you need that person to run to. Someone who can listen without shock or judgment. Someone to accept and support you.

My breakfast companion asked me if we could go to that swing club together, just as innocent observers. She's ready to explore and learn. She wants to get in touch with that side of herself. I want these things for her, too.

I thought it was important I write about this. Because I KNOW there are more women riddled with desires, and suffering from not having an outlet.

We're all so gun shy. So repressed and embarrassed. I'm the same. I almost didn't give her the window to confess, because it would require my own confession. I almost let the moment pass.

We need to be less inhibited. If we make the effort to be a little more open, we may discover the people around us are the same. We need each other. Need to relate. Need to know we're not alone in our impulses and proclivities.

I was terrified of divulging my fixation on a man's sexual thought process, but I've received encouraging responses, including two women who feel the same way. I'm so grateful to learn I'm not alone! That no one judges, or thinks I suffer from gender confusion. Though anonymous, I'm talking. And I'm relating. And it's exceptionally therapeutic.

I offered therapy to my friend this morning, just in the form of an ear and a like mind.

Pay attention to others' body language. Their voices. The subtle clues that give them away. The jokes, the shifting, the downward cast eyes... and offer them an opportunity to connect.


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