Suburban Swingers

This carnal mind of mine is stuck on the swingers I met on Saturday night - you know, the suburban couples where every wife has enhanced boobs. I can't help wondering what came first, the swinging, or the plastic surgery. Is the swinging scene like Hollywood redux, where everyone tries to make it big (ahem) any way they can?

One step back. Yesterday I asked a friend if he knew these folks. He nodded, slowly, and moved closer.

You know they're into that swinging shit, he whispered, eyes widening.

So my suspicions were confirmed. The four couples in consecutive houses in a boring suburban development in Florida have sex with each other. Frankly, what else is there to do? Taunt the alligators? Hunt down and shoot Jimmy Buffett? Try to sell your chronically upside-down residence? They're all stuck between swamp and mortgage payment, looking for any kind of distraction from the heat.

For me, the disconnect lies in the juxtaposition between mowing the lawn and watching your wife blow Bob, the neighbour. My guess is that they have designated times, like last Saturday, when everyone agrees to do everyone else. But I can't help but think it can't be that easy. Jealousy is bound to appear at some point, because, as we all know, jealousy hides in the same places you'll find herpes.

Finding two people who can get along most of the time is difficult enough, but having a team do the same whilst naked smacks of the biblical. Requiring a miracle, I mean, not that the bible is full of orgies...or maybe it is, and that's how it works.

Here's another way.