Jimmy has some friends we'll call Bert and Sid, to protect their identity.
One day in the pub, Bert happened to mention that he often walked round naked at home. Now, I don't find anything remarkable about this. I don't tend to very often, except for a few moments trivially, although I often walk round half-dressed. I find it to be of no interest whatsoever to know this about Bert; I would prefer not to see him naked, but I assume that if I went round his house, I would expect him to be dressed. However, Sid seems to find this extraordinary and freakish behaviour, unusual and puzzling.
One evening Bert heard a clattering noise outside his house and went out to investigate. To his surprise, he saw an over-turned bin and a grounded Sid. It did not take much deduction to work out that, for some reason, Sid had been climbing onto his bins.
On later questioning, Sid admitted that he had been trying to get a peek of Bert walking round naked.
A couple of weeks ago, we realised there was no beer in the house. As it was past closing time for the convenience mini-supermarkets, I suggested to Jimmy that he went to one to one of the local pubs to get carry outs. He said he didn't fancy going to a particular pub because there was a party going on. The part was for a chap we'll call Pat (to protect his identity, he's a postman). I said that maybe Jimmy could go to the party. He said he would rather not, because Pat and his wife are involved with this couple from Doncaster. Every other weekend either Doncaster comes to Brixton or Brixton goes to Doncaster for what Jimmy calls 'wife-swapping'.
Ugh, I said, I can't say I'd like to shag that Pat. I mean, I've never really thought of him as ugly or repulsive, but it's just struck me that he really isn't attractive in any way.
And his wife's ugly, too, commented Jimmy.
I have never done any swinging and I can't say it particularly appeals in practice, but there is a lingering attraction about it, one of those 'never say never' things like parachute jumping or snowboarding. But I suppose I have always assumed that if I were swinging it would be with a gorgeous couple. Or, at the very least, a couple with comparable gorgeousness to me (of course, I regard myself as well above average attractiveness; I suppose we all have to, don't we). It has only just struck me that probably the majority of people who actually swing are ugly, or rather repulsive, or not particularly attractive, or simply not attractive enough. Perhaps the reason that I don't swing is much the same as the reason that I have never been promiscuous, even when single, is that I am very very fussy, and couldn't shag anyone I didn't find extremely attractive. There are plenty of people, knowing them platonically or as friends, I will concede them to be presentable, good-looking, not bad-looking. But as soon as I consider them as theoretical sexual partners, my stomach churns, and I go right off sex.
A few years ago we were in a pub at Gypsy Hill, and this woman started talking to us. She struck me as dowdy, plain and rather mousy in character. She wasn't particularly interesting, but we were quite bored, so didn't mind a change of company. Slowly it began to dawn on us that she was trying to entice us back to her place for a spot of swinging. Soon, her husband arrived, and oh god, he was hanging. Again, mousy and insipid, a faint aura of anorak and nylon, and utterly lacking in charisma. We swiftly made our apologies and found another pub.
Many years ago a friend and I were in a City Centre Manchester pub. A woman started chatting to us; slowly it began to dawn on us that she was trying to get us interested in a threesome. Back then, I was lot more naive, and although I politically supported Gay Rights, I had never been chatted up by a woman and didn't even know any dykes. With the benefit of hindsight, experience etc, nope, I still wouldn't have responded positively. (I always have difficulty with the 'no, I'm not homophobic, it's just I could never fancy you').
I suppose out there are beautiful people wanting to have beautiful swinging sex, where I could enjoy both man and woman, without strings or emotional ambiguity, but somehow, I don't think I'll find them in seedy pubs in Central Manchester or suburban London. And as I'm not looking, it's academic, anyway.
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