Once we were past an industrial gate covered in barbed wire and had passed through an inconspicuous lobby, we were waved into a seductive space full of easy to clean surfaces, plush couches, and low lighting. We repeated our mantra, “Try anything once, maybe even twice,” out loud to each other.
We drank a bit of our BYOB and picked at the unappetizing buffet. The club owner hosted an incredibly cringey dance-off and we scoped out the other guests — mostly average-looking people in their 40s or older.
I’d never been a Casanova. I hadn’t even hit second base before graduating high school. In my first college course, I nerded out on the ancient romance advice found in Ovid’s “Ars Amatoria.” By graduation, my body count was still in the single digits. I hit the jackpot when Ella, then my hot best friend, admitted that she had a crush on me.
We moved from sleepy Colorado Springs to glitzy Los Angeles. We were in our early 20s and wanted to be flirty and sophisticated, but upon moving in together, domesticity hit us like a train. Squabbles over money, careers, plans and cleaning made our lives at home stressful and unsexy.
This was 2016, when it felt like everybody was suddenly talking about open relationships. Non-monogamy was constantly being asked about in online advice columns. Podcasts were quoting “The Ethical Slut” and TV shows made polyamory seem like the new normal.
Ella and I took notice and soon began to wonder: Could this be for us? Could opening our relationship bring some adventure to our lives? Was this exactly what we needed to shake things up a bit?
We decided to wade into this unfamiliar new world by attending a sex party. We figured if we had sex with other couples or people together, the chances of us feeling jealous would be lessened.
Before we left for our first event, we drew up a list of guidelines: Bail if it gets weird, practice very safe sex, listen for our prearranged safe word and prioritize communication over becoming distracted or jealous.
Our plan was to hook up as a couple and enjoy the voyeurism/exhibitionism aspect if nobody seemed appealing enough to have sex with them.
We found a plush faux-leather couch and started making out. We quickly attracted attention. Most of the party guests were happy to watch and those who ventured to join us but weren’t our types thankfully respected a quick head shake of “nope” and left us to continue hooking up by ourselves.
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