I only swing on the playground...

I'm no reserved, turtle neck wearing, don't say that swear word in front of me, honk if you love Jesus, prude. Yes, I do teach bible class on Sunday mornings sometimes, I believe that volunteering gives you more of an appreciation for what you have and more should do it, I sometimes say "shut the front door" instead of the popular WTF, I'm EXTREMELY picky with who I spend time with in my birthday suit, and I never litter...well, once...okay, twice. But, I'm no prude.

After getting that all out there, I want to also address my opinion on the lifestyle I'm about to talk about...swingers and open marriages.

I have quite a few friends that participate in these kind of lifestyles. Not my bag, as you will learn while reading this post, but if they can juggle various other people including their spouse, more power to them. I on the other hand, have a difficult time chewing gum and walking at the same time. But, that's just me.

Most of you who know me personally, know that I'm a pretty friendly girl. I have no trouble meeting new people or making friends. It might be because I have much older brothers and a sister who had left the nest before I was a teen. Or it could be because I constantly talk and like to know more about people and am quite observant. Regardless, I meet new people every week.

Quite a few semesters ago, I was in a class that had a small amount of people in it. I'm talking small, like the amount of people that would show up to watch Rosie O'Donnell strip off her clothing.

With having a small amount of people in this class, everyone got to know each other pretty well. Well, not pretty well, but to the point that we knew everybody's name to get their attention instead of saying "Hey you!" or throwing a random object at the back of their head.

A few months had gone by and I had talked quite a bit with this girl who sat next to me regularly. She had a kind face that you instantly trusted, naturally flaming red hair that you could see a mile away, and was always dressed rather conservative like she was expecting President Obama to arrive in the room.

She laughed at my smart ass comments I would make under my breath about an assignment we had or how the professor mixed up the words lemons and elements. (That's a blog in itself.)

We started to talk about each other's life; how she was married for going on six years, how I wasted six years on some idiot, she was new to the area, and I wish I could leave the area. We had a little in common.

We were assigned a project together and therefore exchanged our numbers with one another.

After several weeks of working on our assigned duties, our project was complete and the semester was over.

Late one night, maybe around 1 in the morning, I had gotten a mass text message from "Red" stating that she was going to be having a birthday party for her husband, lots of games, and to dress comfortably.

Right away I thought "games?" ...Most likely drinking games she was talking about or possibly a round of monopoly or scrabble. That's not what stumped me. Why would she state to dress comfortably? Were we doing yoga in between the games? Maybe she was a tad religious and didn't want any tight clothing being worn in her house?

I didn't analyze it too much, I decided I was going to go for a bit because I knew they were new to the area. It was my duty as the friendly girl of the class to do that.

So, the day of the party, I went through my closet, trying to decipher what would be considered comfy.

I was not going to wear my college sweatshirt to this party. I was raised to get dressed up for anything, even if it was to get milk at the store. Comfortable my ass. They were going to have to put up with my semi dressy attire.

So, I went off to this "comfortable" party. As I pulled into the house of the address she gave me, I realized maybe they knew more people then I thought. There were at least 15 cars in their yard and driveway.

The funny thing about the whole scene? From the outside it looked like not one light was on.

I was hoping this chick wasn't crazy and wanted to invite me to some weird cult where they were going to make me drink toxic kool-aid and force me to watch Twilight over and over again in the dark.

I soon found out that this wasn't a birthday party or a cult gathering...

The house oozed the smell of pheromones and vanilla scented candles when she greeted me at the door...I was at a frickin sex party. So much for the birthday cake I was looking forward to...

(to be continued)