yes, that kind of swinging

Time to explain how I came to possess the knowledge that I mentioned over here.

It happened several years ago, when I was still young and innocent, and my eyeballs had yet to be scorched with the images of a swingers party. I moved back to my home town that year, and although it was the place I had grown up in, most of my old friends were off in other places. So, when that wonderful (not so much) holiday called New Year’s rolled around, I didn’t have a whole lot of big exciting plans to choose from. In fact, I was planning on ignoring it all together and staying home.

There was one friend of a friend, Asha*, who had invited me to a party. She said it was her coworker’s party, a guy, and that I was welcome to come, but that “it might be kind of wild.” I was thinking, “kind of wild”? Please, I went to college, I know all about tequila shots. (See what I mean? Young and innocent.) So I wasn’t afraid of the wild, but our mutual friend had moved back to her homeland of Canada to drink her Mooseheads while not suffering from intolerable heat and humidity, and I didn’t really know Asha that well, and staying home still sounded good to me.

*the names of the not-so-innocent have been changed

Then enters Mona*, and throws a wrench into my “I’m just going to be lame” plans. Mona is a very good and old friend, and she was in town visiting family for the holidays. We discussed New Year’s, and I told her about my plans to ignore it, but she would have none of that. Mona wanted to go out. Mona wanted to have fun. And Mona’s enthusiasm was catching. So I told her about Asha’s party, and she said, with much spirit, “Let’s go!” I told her that I didn’t really know anything about it, who the host was, other than it was expected to be “wild”. Wild? All the better according to Mona. It was agreed – we would go with Asha.

* I had trouble deciding whether to call her “Georgie”, since she named herself George H. Cory III right here on this blog, after a man that worked at a local pizza establishment that she stalked when we were in high school (by the way, in a letter she wrote to him, she made the “H” stand for “Hot Burning Love”), or “Mona”, the fake name she gave herself when she worked for a crisis hotline, because she thought it was sexy. I love my friends.

So New Year’s rolls around, and I am actually excited. Asha’s bringing a friend, Mona’s going to come over and we’ll all meet at my place, go out to eat (mmm), and then to the party. I try to call Mona – her mom answers and says she is out with her brother, and will be back soon. No problem, I get myself prettied up (as much as possible), and call Mona again. No answer. I leave a message, she doesn’t call me back. It’s almost time for dinner, and still no Mona. Asha shows up – alone. Apparently, her friend dropped out. We go to dinner, I’m still calling Mona. Finally, FINALLY, I get through to her. She had bad day, and is not coming. She doesn’t sound very happy. And that’s all the explanation I get. So there I am with Asha, a girl who I’ve never hung out with on my own before, and suddenly we are spending New Year’s together. And really, didn’t I choose staying at home over this situation in the first place? But it’s too late, she’s already there, and I’m all dressed up, so I might as well go and have a good time.

Asha drives me to a dark, deserted area near downtown, and parks at a worn-down hotel. hmm… interesting. We walk in, she asks the guy at the desk were the AUS party is, and he points the way, and I notice an appraising look he gives both of us. As we walk away towards the ballroom, I ask what AUS stands for, and she answers “Atlanta Union of Swingers.” Wha???

I was really too stunned to react, but I was definitely thinking, “Isn’t this something worth mentioning beforehand??”

And that is how I came to accidentally go to a swingers party. It really was an accident! I promise. And, although the people on the radio claimed to be “young and hot”, umm, not so much - on either of those adjectives. With the exception of maybe one girl, who was also kind of spooky. Also, I have never seen such a large collection of 80’s hair in one place before or sense... maybe in the prom scene of Pretty in Pink - no where else.

Asha explained to me that she wasn’t involved in this club herself, but that her coworker and his wife were, and she had been to several of their parties, and had gotten to know some of the people. She said it was great people-watching. And I guess that part was true… I remember seeing this one severely uncoordinated older man, who was dancing by himself while standing by his wife’s chair. It was kind of a swinger-man version of the Elaine dance. Trying to prep myself for what the night could bring, I asked Asha for advice on what to say if this man was to ask for a dance. She watched him for a few moments, and then said she would say that her foot hurts.

She must have lost her nerve when put on the spot, because that same man walked over and asked her to dance just a few minutes later. The evil part of me really really enjoyed watching her be spun awkwardly all over the dance floor. Meanwhile, she had asked me to hold her phone, so I pretended to be talking on it the entire time I was left alone.

Other good people watching included the photographer, a small man with white hair that stood straight up all over his head, and who wore a constant insane looking grin on his face. He wanted a picture of us, but no, no we couldn’t do it right here where we were standing. We had to go stand under the prom arch. And then even that wasn’t good enough. He wanted us to “make like a tiger” – AND lean over while doing so. I can only guess this part was for glimpses down our tops. (Albums were set out for viewing form other parties - partial to complete nudity in photos was not uncommon). Which didn’t really work for me anyway, since I was wearing a winter coat. He tried to get me to take it off, and when I wouldn’t, came over and tried to pull it off of me – but like I said, he was small, and I was determined.

I accepted the whole thing for an interesting experience, and laughed about it. Still, I didn’t like it when a felt a hand run down my back, and turned around to see an older woman saying “ooh! A young one!” Or when there was a big tall man with a handle bar mustache and leather pants sitting next to me – he looked kind of like this, but with darker hair.
He was talking to me, and Asha’s coworker whispered something to her, and they both kind of laugh, and I asked what’s going on, and she says, “He says the man next to you is hung like a horse.” No, no I really didn’t need to know that at all.

We stayed for the countdown, and left pretty quickly afterwards. The site of many older women breaking out the topless sequined ball-gowns was our cue to be on our way. I will say that her coworker, when the New Year’s countdown was near, shepherded us on to a small stage area, and then protected us from the streams of people that were walking by, looking for some kisses. For that, I will be forever grateful.

I got home that night and called my friend in D.C. – the city from whence I had recently relocated. They were all gathered together for a house party, and I knew they would appreciate the story. I think they did – and I got to laugh about it with them, while being a little jealous that they were all together, and missing them a lot. Then I got off the phone, and took a hot shower, and scrubbed and scrubbed myself, just because I felt tainted. You know how they do that in bad tv movies?? It’s true! You really do feel dirty!

And somewhere out there, there’s a photo of me in a swinger’s album. I’m with another girl, making like tigers, beneath the lights of a prom arch.

I think New Year’s is cursed for me – I’ve had several bad ones, but that was the biggest mistake of them all.

Well, at least I wasn’t one of the girls left alone in the middle of the night in a strange city without anywhere to go because of you, Splann. Actually, that was a relatively good one in my book! I had friends and a place to stay, at least. Sorry Mel – it was Splann’s fault!