The Swinging Politics

Things over the last month have been very exciting. I blame the retrograde Mercury for it, but Mr. Vanessa has no faith in my astrology.

See, Mr. Vanessa encouraged me earlier rather than later to satisfy my fantasies. More than just promoting. Arrangement actively. Even by pushing.

I’ve been titillated, yes. Excited, of course. That led to a very slippery slope that eventually caused us to accept an invitation to party in our little neck of the forest this weekend for private monthly couples.

Short long story, lingerie was bought. There have been orders for condoms. Shoes have been discovered (sexy, high-heeled shoes). Toys were taken into consideration. There has been discussion of ground rules. There were extended boundaries.

Then things stopped screaming. Things went from open marriage to do it in the space of about 15 minutes and we divorced.

We opened the box of Pandoras and I looked inside and enjoyed what I saw. Very! Much! But when the lid was unexpectedly shut down, my fingers were still on the edge of the box. Hard. And that’s closed.

Yes, I’m still upset. Confused. Disappointed. Hurt.

I’m not at fault with him. I’m not at fault with me. I blame the retrograde Mercury.

Now, after a few phrases from our sponsors, back to our frequently planned marriage programming.

And sincere government apologies to A., a dear friend who, because of our folly, did not deserve to be led down that path, seduced, excited, liaison arranged-and-scutted everything in the same 15 minutes. I m sorry. Thank you for all this being a nice sport.