Yikes! I’m at my first school parent’s party and everyone’s a Swinger, but me.

Somewhere in Bondi, on a street leading to the ocean, a black lacquered door throbs and music and a golden doorknob beckons.

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A band of navy Italian lace silk fringing falls from my hips, skimming my thighs. 

I suck my belly button back to my spine, check my boobies are still bound inside my bandage top, shoulder roll my men’s pinstripe blazer and reach for the curve of the golden orb.

The golden knob slips from my grasp as the door swings wide.

My confronted eyelashes tremble under the welcoming wink of an oiled navel and golden G-string.

The greeting is unexpected and magnificent.

I offer up my invitation in the sobering event that I am definitely not expected at this party. I have been invited by parents of a five-year-old friend of my daughters, our daughter’s new friends at a private co-ed school in Sydney. I don’t think golden knobs and G-strings are part of the mixing and mingling at that party.

PARTY INVITATION

On a smooth high gloss 9 by 20cm photographic card dance three naked woman, texture and movement supplied by their 70s’ styled pubic hair fullness.

Dress code: Sexy cool

Theme: 007 meets Barry White

Champagne pops my gaping mouth shut. I’m in.

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I pad across the wide oaked black Japanese Oak floors on my tippy toes – I really don’t want to puncture these floors with my heels – to a tram carriage, embedded flush in the cavernous rooms right wall. I discover this is the host’s dining room – the carriage sits empty and waiting like the rest of the party, awaiting new conductors and passengers.

It is  spectacular.

I am excited and nervous all at once and I shiver like Christmas Eve with silent promise for the night.

The World is Not Enough

Bond: “I was wrong about you.”
Christmas Jones: “Yeah, how so?”
Bond: “I thought Christmas only comes once a year.”

Beyond the room a sail clothed canopy hangs above an outdoor DJ, circling a tinkling bar with a throb of clustered bodies.

A dancing lunatic pulls me on to the dance floor.

I am completely ill at ease.

A handsome stranger rescues me.

I am completely at ease.

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This shot taken of me completely at ease with friends a night before.

In fact the party is full of throbs of people really at ease. As I elbow beat off  a throng of strangers – who are now intimate with the size of my facial pores – I watch the room.

The room is full of clusters of people, really into getting to know people they have just met.

I look at the wad of business cards that have been pressed into my hand by all of my new friends and contacts at this party.

For some strange reason I feel like the main course.

There are no leery eyed stares, just people enjoying a luxurious party with all the trimmings, fresh delectable canapés, chilled golden flutes of erupting French champagne and two-legged predators with smiles of inarticulate longing.

As I walk upstairs to find a bathroom, candle lit water bowls with floating frangipani dot paths to the King size beds.

A strange little man jumps from the shadows and pulls me towards a bed.

I break free in an ugly jig to the stairs – trying to look cool and stride two stairs at a time, away, away from my creepy little leaping guy. 

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This party is for a select group of people, with a select group of rules.

Swingers.

Swapping loved ones and partners and sharing sexual pleasures with strangers with consent from your other half.

I’m not good at sharing and know I’m not playing. From the dance floor fringe shadows hover close and I know I’m not the only one feeling this way.

A woman I know embedded  in the shadows, watches her husband get it on with another on the dance floor. And as her loved one shows his moves to another she doesn’t look excited, turned-on or angry, she looks sad.

I turn and  head for the golden knobbed door – perhaps all that glitters is not so golden after all.

007 house rules, to kiss without telling and like 007, I leave early.

Sex, is a game best played by choice.

Remember to choose which game you are playing, before the game you are playing chooses you.

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Johnny Depp.

‘If you love two people at the same time, choose the second.

Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn’t have fallen for the second’.

 

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How do you find love, passion and yes, more sex, now that you are single?

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High noon blazed across the barren landscape of my bedroom. My opponent and I stood stiffened spine to stiffened spine. Now that I was single, the bedroom showdown had begun.

Like a cattleman’s whip loneliness stings my curiosity and I turn to the brutal crack of reality.

My opponent turns low, palms sweating, hands drawn and twitching, matching my speed, my centre-part and right-cheek mole.

Yep I’m playing Cowboys and Indians, in my bedroom mirror, alone.

Single and no chance of any Cowboys or Indians on this horizon. Not anytime soon. Damn!

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What was my first thought when I found myself ‘single’?

I would like to say my first thought was gracious and altruistic.

It was not.

It was, ‘Oh no. No more sex for me’.

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Then I remembered the ‘super secret’ tucked in my bedside cabinet. 

Sunlight probed the tortoiseshell cabinet and with one lone-fingered-nudge the drawer shuddered open.

To reveal one bar of chocolate and one gaping space. My vibrator! Gone!

Between moving house, tossing the – ‘things that no longer spark joy’, down-sizing my relationship status and child -proofing mummy’s side of the bed-I had rubbished my vibrating friend.

I tore open the chocolate bar and popped it sideways into my mouth.

On my tongue the sweet slide was … wanting.

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I know vibrators have limitations … they come without Ryan Gosling six-packs and their midday shadows will never loom tall, with Clint Eastwood smiles, swaggering ‘do you feel lucky, well do you?’

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I needed a replacement. But how? I was enroute to Uni and my morning class with hot lecturer.

A little bit of History: Today more than 70% of women own at least one vibrator. 

Just think, we owe our favourite buzzing companion’s invention, to the over worked hands of 19th century Doctors. 

Medical hand jobs were the only cure for 19th century ladies suffering from Hysteria. 

Unable to keep up with the demand and with chronic hand fatigue – Doctors required assistance.

Ask and it will be given – a gift from the gods.

Squished on a peak hour train, fast-track to Uni, between Miss Unfriendly and Mr Too Friendly a sign from the gods’ flutters on my nike airs.

The newspaper’s red letters leap – SALE/BUNNINGSsavings on bulk purchases of AA batteries.

A grinch like grin stretches the slick of my Chanel lacquered lips and sneers off all leery lurking commuters.

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My eyelashes batter off the armpit tendrils of  Mr No-Deodorant-Wearing, Hairy Armpit.

I whip out my phone and tap purchase.

I raise my phone triumphant above my head to screen save my checkout basket.

Lit from above, an unearthly fluorescent-pink-sheen illuminates myself and all my fellow commuters.

We stand, bathed pink, by the formidable full screen selfie, of my new vibrator.

I wish I were Spock calling Scotty, ‘Beam me up Scotty, to a galaxy far, far away’.

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The number one reason I found myself single: I forgot to love myself first. She loved life and it loved her right back.

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Once I remembered who I was,  I forgot about looking outside of myself for love. 

In being alone I remembered I loved being me.

 Yes I found love again but if we want more love, passion, pleasure and sex in our lives, we must learn to love ourselves first.

 

  All images from Pinterest. You can find me on Pinterest here.X

Fast Love, how far do I have to get up, to get down?

FAST LOVE

I don’t even want to waste your time

Lets just say that maybe

You could help to ease my mind

Baby I aint Mr. Right.

But if you’re looking for fast love.

GEORGE MICHAEL

Fast Love, how far do I have to get up, to get down?

I love meeting people, their vulnerable quirks, their first, their second impressions and all their unedited shades in between.

How far do I have to get up?

I shiver in the chase of old-fashioned good manners.

I get up and introduce myself to a great smile, I get up to be present in my life without uploading my stats online. Without expectation I welcome the unknown.

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In the past, love found me when I wasn’t looking.

 

 I don’t date online; like fast food it has it’s moments but it’s not something you want to eat every day for happy ever after.

Like fast food, dial and deliver, online dating has a place in our lives. Fast, immediate, convenient, dialled when the cupboards are bare.

I have friends and family who love online dating and who have had great success and spectacular failures – it’s just not for me.

Online dating is too public, a girlfriend called me with an online dating link to my ex-husband. My ex’s profile photo was one we had photographed overseas together – on our pre-wedding honeymoon. The edited version was cropped to exclude me – it was a great photo.

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How far do I have to get up to get down?

I am confused by the need to maintain a dating profile, I prefer to be still and have found I make better decisions when I am in this state.

“I try to stay in a constant state of confusion just because of the expression it leaves on my face.”

― Johnny Depp

FAST LOVE  – OPTION 3

FADE IN:

1.EXT. CAFÉ – MORNING

Simmon, athletic, in her 40’s is seated at a table ducked behind an upside down newspaper. Amy in her early 40’s, approaches swings a custard croissant and rubs the rock on her engagement finger.

AMY

Hey, I thought that was you behind that upside down newspaper. Are you here alone?

So you dating anyone? You really need to get back up on it.

SIMMON (Option 1)

Smile and wave like the penguins on Madagascar.

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SIMMON (Option 2)

No, here alone, dating myself.  My next great love is on his way.

AMY

You are too funny … but god, you must be missing it?

SIMMON

Sex? As for sex, yes I have sex, whenever I want with myself

2.EXT.STREET – MORNING

Whirring roar of a helicopter landing

Chairs and tables fly past the café as a Helicopter lands on the street. Cars and pedestrians stand still in shock.

The helicopter door swings open and three cloaked men jump onto the street. They remove their hoods and Liam Hemsworth or an incredible single, available look alike and Johnny Depp saunter into the café.

3.INT.CAFE – MORNING

Liam and Johnny stride across to Simmon’s table. Behind them Amy sits on top of her custard croissant in shock.

JOHNNY AND LIAM

 baby we are here but your’e too busy looking at your phone, dating online.

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A loud explosion shatters the café window behind them. Standing in the rubble a small man who looks nothing like his online dating profile, shuffles forward. He clears his throat and wipes his nose with his sleeve. He inspects what his nose has left on his sleeve and approaches Simmon.

SMALL MAN

Hi do you know where I can find Simmon. I am her perfect match.

SIMMON

Yikes, Is there an Option 3?

FADE OUT:

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Quotes and images with thanks from Pinterest