It’s often said that you have to understand where you’ve been to know where you’re headed. And it is this saying that has kept me from writing in so long. I have a story, a difficult story that explains my trepidation, concern and issues surrounding entering the swinger lifestyle and moving beyond it. I think I’m scared that if I write about it, that it will definitely be true and permanently out there. That can be scary when talking about issues around abuse and the aftermath, but I think it’s important to discuss it because there is a lot of healing to be had in putting it out there and leaving it for others to perhaps learn from. So, here goes…. my first foray into swinging and the aftermath…..
To start out, I was dating a guy who had some pretty adventurous (to put it lightly) kinks. I was so desperate to have some sort of a stable relationship and be “in love” that I completely ignored red flags prior to this night. I just wanted to make something work so badly. The relationship was built on a lot of sexual drive and attraction but not much else. He was adventurous and through researching and watching porn, decided he would like for us to explore swinging.
However, I had reservations with this guy, (let’s call him Robert), he admitted to me at the beginning of the relationship that he was an alcoholic and had gone through AA, completed the steps, and now had a handle on his drinking (red flags anyone?). As the relationship progressed, he began drinking more and more, hiding it from me and I was too love-struck to pay attention. If I had paid attention, I would have seen the jealousy, the neediness, the mental abuse that he was starting on me. I would have seen that he denied affection when he was mad, but would then make it my fault for doing something wrong. Hindsight is 20/20 though, and again, I was desperate to make something work because I felt I had failed in my marriage.
Fast forward to the night we decided to go to the swinger’s party. He cooked an amazing steak dinner, citing the fact that we’d be drinking and could use a good meal to help keep us from getting too drunk. Little did I know that at the point of dinner, he’d already drunk a fifth of Jack Daniels. We ate our “romantic” dinner, grabbed the cooler full of beer and headed out. The party was at a local hotel, not the nicest place, but fairly safe and we were met by security at the door. ID check and release paperwork handed out and we took a tour. Every room had a different set up (entertainment alley), a room was set up as a “play room” with sex swings, benches, chairs and mattresses. Hors d’oeuvres, drink mixers, ice and shots were in another room. We meandered about to the dance floor area. Tables were set up around the dance floor, complete with stripper pole and cage for dancing.
It was early, so we sat and watched. A few people were dancing, a lot of people were walking around and chatting with each other. We got friendly smiles, a few people came up and introduced themselves to us, we seemed to fit in quite well. And Robert continued to drink, a lot…. I was pacing myself. New experience, people I don’t know, and a lot of unknowns lead me to be cautious. I decided to dance a little, went to the floor and met up with a cute girl who had a leafy tattoo down one side of her body. She was very cute, and friendly. She and her partner came to chat with us when the song was done. Then the rest of their group came around. There were about 8 total (couples). Robert and I smiled at each other and chatted with everyone for a while.
After about an hour or so of chatting, someone asked if we’d like to go back to their room and get another drink with them. Robert and I agreed and the entire group went on a walk to the room. Our friends grabbed another drink, we were chatting and getting to know each other and all was going great. Then, out of nowhere, Robert began pulling my pants down and asked, “Would anyone like to fuck my girlfriend?” I was shocked, but I figured, why not? Everyone seemed friendly and willing, and that’s what we are here for, right?
Everyone paired up and took over the two beds, bodies, mouths, hands, we were all over each other and everyone else. I was in heaven, what an amazing experience. When all of a sudden, I realize something is wrong. Robert isn’t excited, I’m having sex with another guy (James), facing Robert and he has a terrible look on his face. Another girl and I try to get him to play with us, and he’s having none of it. Next thing I know, he jumps up off the bed, starts putting his clothes on and is yelling in my ear about being a whore and a slut. Shocked, I stop what I’m doing and try to talk to him. He storms out of the room.
Everyone is shocked. Stunned silence as we watch him walk out the door. Like the good girlfriend I am, I follow. The group follows with me, but at a distance, keeping an eye out, but not interfering. I catch up with Robert and ask him what the problem is. He loses his shit, and starts screaming at me, flipping tables, throwing beer bottles and having a melt down. I realize I need to get him out of here. I walk to James and ask him to help me get Robert out of the hotel. James tells me he’s concerned and offers to drive Robert home and have me stay there with them. Like an idiot, I decline, believing that if I just get Robert home, all will be well. What comes next is the second worst car ride home in my life…….
I get Robert in the car, and start driving home. He is screaming, crying and inconsolable. I’m nervous, scared and feeling guilty. I’m trying to talk to him, he wants nothing of it. He rips the rearview mirror off my car and slams it into the dashboard, shattering it. I back hand his shoulder and tell him to stop breaking my car. He balls up his fist and punches me hard in the chest. I stop the car and tell him to get out. He begs me to let him stay in the car. Because it’s cold out, I allow it. Not even a few miles down the road, he opens the car door and jumps out. I’m driving 30 mph mind you, and he just jumps out…. (Here is the part of the story that all my friends ask if I left him or stopped) I stop the car, run to get him, he’s banged up and has road rash, but is ok. I get him into the car and get him home. He’s now crying and laying the guilt on pretty hard.
We get home and he continues to yell, scream, cry and call me every name in the book. All I want is to go to bed and sleep. He won’t let me. He begins to hurt himself. Hitting himself in the head with his fists, slamming his head against a wall until he passes out. I finally get him calmed down enough that I feel safe sleeping in bed, but I forced him to sleep on the couch.
I wake up to him opening the bedroom door and saying “goodbye” to the dogs. I hear a bath running. I know what’s coming next, so I pull myself out of bed and go into the bathroom. He’s in there with the shower curtain closed, laying in a bath. I ask to talk to him and ask why he told the dogs goodbye. He is crying and upset and swears nothing is going on. I nod and walk out, grabbing his cell phone on my way out. I immediately call his brother and tell him he needs to come over immediately. I go back into the bathroom, and as I suspected, Robert has a box cutter and is getting ready to cut his wrists. I grab the box cutter away from him, tell him that his brother is on the way over and that he needs to get out of the bath. When his brother arrives, Robert and he go have a smoke in the garage, I join. Robert relays to his brother that I am a whore and have fucked a dozen guys in the last nite (it was 2, and he was there, encouraging it…) and that his life has no meaning anymore because I’m such a terrible person.
I moved out that day, and never looked back. He went back to AA, reached out to apologize to me, but I wasn’t ready. We still don’t talk to this day, even though he has gotten his life put back together. There are some things I can forgive, like the fact that he didn’t know how mentally ill he was, that he had relapsed into a disease that had such a strong hold on him and that I was pulled into it without warning. But, I also have to take responsibility for my end. I knew the red flags, I ignored them. But one thing I cannot ever forgive is physical abuse, it will never be ok that he hit me and left a lump on my chest for 2 weeks after.
My purpose for telling this story will make more sense when I finish writing about the first party with Shades. And that is coming. I’ve got too much in my brain these days to let it just set any longer. I apologize for not writing sooner, just had to work through some stuff in my brain before I could allow this story out.