Imitating life and art.

So around the time I was asked the question below, I was (briefly) living it. A very desirable and pleasingly feasible third party rocked up and stuck around for five days, half of which while the Boy was out of town, the rest after the Boy returned.

(Perhaps I should come up with some fun but non-identifying handles for people, but the reason J and I used our own names at swingers parties wasn’t to make a bold lifestyle statement, it was just paucity of imagination. So Boy = J, other boy = old friend.)

These five days were… intense. Two days fooling around with other boy, on home turf but without J, was a new experience. And then two days with two hot boys in the same space was also new ground.

The net effect of switching from spending different types of time with people, and in settings that none of us was used to, was emotional. Almost violently so, actually, but in a good way.

I think partly I was responding to how natural it felt – “Wow, this shouldn’t be possible but it is and it feels amazing.” A sort of elation at the evidence that I can choose to live my life a certain way and make it work.

But the other thing, which I haven’t seen people talking about despite trawling various links, is that it’s physically noticeable switching between bodies.

I’m not sure if it’s a case of brains filling in information, but if I spend a chunk of time with one body and then switch to another, I have a little moment of shock. “Oh, it’s x, not y,” as if my brain has filled in the wrong gaps.

I don’t remember noticing this in any illicit affair situations, but it’s been a while. Plus this time round I was worried about everyone’s boundaries, so there was lots of internal checking, processing and monitoring going on.

I didn’t find the situation bad, quite the opposite, but the intensity and all the mental checking made me think twice about whether it would be something I’d want full time. Although clearly these situations would evolve if they were permanent, and if it was another girl rather than a boy the dynamic would be different assuming all three of us were sleeping together.

A quick aside about practising what I preach – I felt all this keenly at the start of the week, and had a huge desire to TALK, but the people I wanted to talk to didn’t respond to my psychic cries. This made me feel frustrated and isolated, until I heard my own sanctimonious tones reminding me that we all have a duty to ask for the things we need.

So I asked and got agreement to find talking time – even though that time still hasn’t been found, acknowledgment that it would made my frustrated feelings disappear.


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