I met a very nice woman at Starbucks today who was kind enough to read this post, and then be the THIRD person this week to already know what I learn below. If you read this ma’am, it was very nice to meet you, and thanks for critiquing my silly passion.
Last week some really wonderful neighbors had us over to gorge ourselves on their fabulous food, drink all their expensive champagne, wine, vodka and port, and allow our children to destroy their lovely home. Oh, and then stumble out the door without even offering to help clean anything.
They said that they want to come over to do a repeat at our own home, but we know better than to let hungry, angry, ungrateful strangers into our home. I mean, that’s just dumb.
Now during the course of this fantastic evening, as we stood admiring the brand new fence at the back of their property, the conversation became…enlightening.
“Why did you decide to go with an 8foot fence on the back and not on the sides? is there something wrong with that neighbor?”
“We didn’t get the 8foot fence, they did. And there’s a LOT wrong with that neighbor.”
“Why?”
“They swing.”
I am only just hip enough to know that he didn’t mean they have a very large playset back there. Or maybe they do, but not for the kids.
They further explained that our lovely suburban mecca has a high concentration of swinging couples, and that often the sounds of their…events…would waft over the fence for the kids to enjoy.
“”All right ladies…change laps!”"
Now, we have been residents of this neighborhood for five years, and have lived in this city for nine. And in all that time, this was our first ever exposure to this subject. And then not two days later, I hear someone else make a similar comment about our ferociously swinging suburb.
Where the hell have I been? And where the hell have you people been doing all this? And most importantly,
Why the hell have we not been invited??!!
Ok…I know there are some things that may have kept you away. I mow the lawn with no shirt on. I only leave the house after having shellacked my pasty, doughy, translucent form with factory SPF 50. I don’t lift weights. My wife and I have a standing date to mow my back. I rarely bathe. Ok, that last one isn’t true, but you get where I’m going here.
So I can see why you may not have wanted me… But every news story I have ever seen about swingers showed folks that, well, I don’t really care too see…swing. And surely I bring more to the Mazola pit than some of those guys?!
Or not?
I would have thought that the fact that my wife is attractive might have had some guy making advances before asking his wife to approve ol’ Halftime Jay?
Well, regardless…we’re insulted. And we aren’t interested. We aren’t swingers, nor are we willing to learn. Each to their own, but not for us.
But would it have killed you to ask?
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One of my friends back neighbors are swingers and have trampoline and hot tub parties regularly. After their kids are in bed. I'm just glad no one approaches me. I'm a one husband kind of girl.
But don't be too offended – I hear they are very exclusive.
True. It's always nice to be asked, right?
Yea… I have a couple friends who are into this… we are friends and thats it… BUT we have NEVER been asked. We know they do it, they know we know they do it, but the subject never really comes up! AWKWARD!!
Yeah, it's like being picked last in kickball. That left-out feeling never goes away.
And, I never knew our area was big on swinging either. Gosh, I guess I really need to get out more. Maybe if I start shopping at Banana Republic…
So, apparently, there was this huge swinging thing going on with couples in Draper. They would meet at a place called The Treehouse Gym, which is not called the Adul-tree House Gym, and would hook up.
And they were LDS. It was this huge scandal.
I have lived in a high population swinging community, too!
Also, my husband was approached. It didn't go any farther than that, though.
Say it ain't so.
Guess you aren't apart of the popular crowd.
Think of all the antibiotics you'll save yourself from having to ingest in the long run.
I'm glad that most of our neighbors are quiet and not into that.
But it's Vegas. We really don't know what our neighbors do.
Ick.
Thats all Im saying….and it isnt about your pasty white chest either.
i'm gonna go ahead and plead the fifth on this subject jay!!
Ok initally my comment posted as my hubby which you will soon see only would have made it funnier if I had left it.
I am seriously rethinking joining the ladies Bunco night in our community having read this. One night Ladies Bunco; the next night Everbosy Bunking.
(See isn't that even funnier coming from "Stephen?")
I live in a neighborhood full of retired people which makes me glad that 1. there is an empty lot behind my house instead of a bunch of swingers requiring and 8 foot fence and 2. We have received 0 invitations to the old white and wrinkled swingers club…if there is one. Bleh.
Holy crap, dude. That's INSANE.
I don't have any nearby neighbors. But if the people in this area are swinging it is probably with the farm animals & I am really glad no one has asked us to join in.
Crap. I live here too. No one invited me either. What is wrong with me?
I have heard this happens in a neighborhood near me. I just live a couple towns from y'all. Must be the area. And I haven't been invited either. Not that I would join.
LOL–I think this is more common than one thinks. I was shocked to learn after living in my town for a good long while that there are a whole bunch of swingers verrryyyy nearby. People we know! People we socialize with! And yeah, wondered whether we should be insulted or deeply grateful that we were excluded from that little circle of friends….
Heeheee, glad I could enlighten.
Yeah, my self esteem is pretty shot because of this as well. I'm totally laughing with Sarah though – I think she's on to something with that Bunco thing. I went once, and never went back – prescreening maybe?
Ew.
They didn't ask us either and I don't even have to mow Brent's back. Don't feel insulted.
Who knew that swingers would be so rude? I just figured with all the sharing they had to be nice people.
Seriously…it's THAT common? I had no idea.
How rude!
We heard a lot of stories a few years ago about some swingers in my little town. Let's just say, the broom closet story has yet to die down.
Glad to be back and to come to your blog and read that as my first!!
I know what you mean about not getting invited. Sucks hugely. Just remember, it's not you, it's them. I think.
Every time a Jehovah's witness comes to the door…you know what to tell him and where to send him!
Uh…I live in the same neighborhood as TexasHolly…Jay, are you my neighbor too? WHO has the 8ft fence? WHAT am I missing?????
Well at least you dont live next door to a porn producer. Like me. Come to think of it I dont know which is worse.
Ew.
I am learning all kinds of things about our neigborhood from you Jay! And, come to think of it, we weren't invited either… but then I am pretty happy about that! Oh, and by the way, EeeWWW!!!
To each his own, but when you start to hear that shit OVER the fence, w/ kids around, is about the time I start getting mega-angry.
As for why you weren't invited, they must just have bad taste. Both you and wifey are smokin'
Don't you get it?? They only want the not so hot ones. You should consider your NON-invitation a good thing. (not that I would know – at all!!!)
P.S. LOVE Jenni's comment!! HA HA HA!
I fell in here because TexasHolly Stumbled you — very funny stuff!
Thoughts:
1. It's times like these that electric drill-made peep holes were made for.
2. It's illegal to yell "Fire!" in a crowded THEATER, not a dark back yard.
3. Dude: paparazzi photos (see #1 and #2) bring great money and even better hush money.
I kid, of course . . . ?
I was out for a glass of wine with my galpal one evening. We’d only been dating a couple months. We’re sitting chatting in a neighborhood wine bar and this other couple strikes up a chat. I’m a friendly guy, so we chat away. They get increasingly personal in the conversation. My girlfriend starts getting uncomfortable. When we go up for another glass of wine before returning to our seats, she tells me: they’re SWINGERS and they’re HITTING on us. Heh? Us? ME? Nahhh. Swear to God what happens next left me stunned: we sit back down and the wife leans forward to tell me something and her blouse pops open and out “they” tumble… She scoops them back in, buttons up and chuckles. Girlfriend clutches my arm and says, “Well, we need to go…” It happens, bubba. And, I learned something that night about my girlfriend: she has no interest in sharing. Me neither.