Freakshow of the Day

It's taking more and more work to find my freakshow of the day. I've checked out the craigslists in other areas and I must say, not much better than the Richmond craigslist. I mean, I haven't ventured far beyond the men for women, but I might have to start. Of course, I could just be getting numb to this tripe.

Anyway, here goes:

"Hey ladies im not going to waste your time, so please dont waste mines.. Im a single male thats in the swinger lifestyle. I had a partner that i use to attend parties with. But she moved. Im looking for a mature sexi drama, clean female for some nsa fun that like to attend parties or who wants to give it a try."

Ahhhh, a swinger's party. Good stuff. I've never been to any swinger's parties, and I never will. Not my ball of wax. But I know a couple of people who have done that, and I probably know a couple more people who have done it but I don't know they've done it. Anyway, one guy was a friend of The Ex's, and the way The Ex explained it to me was that this guy's ex-wife sucked his friend into it because the ex-wife wanted to screw around and not get in trouble for it. This was the explanation given years before I realized The Ex tends to blame everything on the ex-wife. Thanks to me, he'll soon have two ex-wives to blame. The other person that I know, we used to work together, and she said that while she and her husband were stationed at this military base (god, there's always a military base in one of these stories, right?), her next door neighbors used to have dinner parties quite frequently, and she was somewhat insulted that she and her husband never got invited. So she said something to the neighbor one time, and the neighbor fessed up that the dinner parties were actually swinger's parties. Dinner of a different sort. But that was the cover story, a dinner party. My friend said she would have never known, because everyone going in the house always had some kind of casserole dish with them. She and her husband were in the Air Force, thus explaining the nifty cover story. If we were talking about oh, say, the Marines, the cover story would have just been it's a swinger's party.

Since I've never been to a swinger's party, I have no idea what happens. I don't know if it's just one straight orgy in the living room, and everyone is just going at it, or if they split up, or what happens. I am left to my imagination, which is really a scary thing. I wouldn't get involved in this because, like I said, it's not my ball of wax, but what if you get stuck with someone who isn't that attractive? How do you decide who gets who? Draw names out of a hat or something? Is it like picking teams for middle school kickball (which we all know was excruciating)? Who picks first? What's the order of the picking? How does this work? Do you switch in the middle or something so you get more variety? Who decides that? So many questions, so few answers. I'm obviously not up on the swinger's etiquette, as you can tell.

The dumbest thing about all of this is what I can't get out of my mind. This would be that there's some kind of swinger's ref kind of running around the party, and after about an hour (I guess?) this person - and this is the absolute dumbest part of my imagination - blows a whistle or something and yells "Switch!" and then everyone switches. I don't know how I've got this association stuck in my brain, and this bothers me, because I remember where most of my brain associations come from. I wonder if this is the remnant of some drunk ass conversation I had with someone sometime, and this is what's left. I remember one drunk ass conversation I had when I was in high school at a party. I was talking to this guy I knew only very remotely who went to the private school, and I was on this uncircumcised rant, and I blathered on for about a half an hour and finally this guy looks at me and tells me he's not circumcised. Oops. Anyway, back to swinging. I can't listen to the Will Smith song "Switch" without thinking about this. I can't hear someone say this word without cracking up. And then they look at me, and I just shrug and say, "Swingers". But they don't get the humor in it, because they aren't in my brain, and so it just takes too much time to explain what's in my brain and the humor is lost by the time I try to explain the whole thing. So I don't explain anymore.

If you know how this whole thing works, feel free to drop me a line to explain it. But be warned, I'll cut-and-paste the email onto the blog, because I think everyone should know this. So at least make sure it's grammatically correct.