While I remain stuck sheerly on the topic this conversation has turned to, he dives into an endorsement, nay, testimony about how he's been ahem a swinger for ten years. Like I said, I remain stuck on the fact that I'm now discussing my and my coworker's sex life at 7:00am.
Let me pause and place some of this oddity into context: Guy is, how shall I say... part Sheldon Cooper, part John Nash. He speaks higher-level mathematics. He programs software in 28-hour stretches. He's not quite asocial, but nearly. He has a lovely monitor tan. He single-handedly keeps blue-colored energy drinks in business. He's beyond brilliant and is as such a package deal: genius and eccentricity. I've hardly ever envisioned Guy outside of his cubicle and am now being required to envision him at swinger parties. Yes. Let us once again pause to place the aforementioned Guy into a meat market.
My mind wanders...I continue to blink. I think my brow is knit together in combination concern and confusion.
"...and it doesn't matter what they think because you're all gonna be naked in 30 minutes anyway!" ... Is the line that realigns my focus.
I laugh, against intention.
"It doesn't matter what they think?" I echo back.
"Nah. At first you're nervous, you're thinking 'Are they attractive? Do they find me attractive?' I used to be so nervous when I would meet a couple..." Again, I'm jolted with images of Guy at velvety bars and hazy swinger parties.
He continues, "You avoid all that hassle that is in dating. You don't have to stress about building a relationship that will inevitably fail, you just find a few people you click with and spend a few months with them."
My mind keeps wandering.... Hhmmm... I'm actually becoming curious about this. I listen to Guy's description of the lifestyle and honestly wonder if this is something that I would be capable of.
I then contemplate the terminology of "swinger". Since I am not married, could I really be called such? I'd really just be a slut, wouldn't I?
"You know, Guy, this sounds like skydiving to me: I just have no way of knowing if I'll be able to jump until I'm in that plane." He nods, knowingly. "I really have no idea if I'd be able to do it."
"Well, I can let you know when the next get-together is."
I may, or may not, have nodded vaguely.
"You don't have to make a lifestyle out of it; just whenever you want to come out and play." (Play. Did he just say "play"?)
Again, I think there was nodding on my part.
"Or I can give you my phone number. You can text me if you're interested."
*blinkblink*
"O-uh, o-ok..."
Was I just propositioned?
Yes. Yes you were. *stares at chest*
ReplyDeleteP.S. I keep imagining Sheldon Cooper in a tangle of damp, failing people with paunches and odd body hair.
ReplyDelete*flailing. I hope they're not failing so eary in the game. Maybe it's nerves?
ReplyDelete