I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
June 22, 2006
>And now, for your reading enjoyment, the latest Nashville Scene edition of Suburban Turmoil, reprinted here in all its glory…
Swingers!
I had a weird feeling about the guy as soon as my husband and I sat down beside him at the bar.
Oh, he looked normal enough, with his Tommy Bahama shirt, wire-rimmed glasses and middle-aged paunch, but something wasn’t quite right.
“Do you have kids?” he asked us, smiling.
“Yes, three,” my husband answered.
“I have a wife and stepson,” he said jovially. “Came here to get away from all that for a little bit. Teenagers are rough, let me tell ya.” He tried to keep the conversation going, asking our daughters’ ages and whether they were also “trouble.”
“So,” he continued brightly, “you guys out for a night on the town?”
“Yep,” my husband answered.
“You staying at a hotel?” he pressed.
“Oh no,” I said. “We’re going home.”
“Well, then, I guess you’ll be having SEX in the CAR!” he said gleefully. My eyes glazed over. Did I just hear what I thought I heard?
“Yep,” he said, as if reading my mind. “Getchyerself a bottle of tequila and there’ll be SEX for sure.” He leered and scooted closer.
I believe my husband responded with something along the lines of, “Heh, mmmagh. Hummis,” before grabbing my arm and getting the hell out of there.
Swingers. In. Nashville. Are. Recruiting.
The next day, I called my friend Karen and told her the news.
“He said what? Bwah ha ha ha!” she cackled.
“Yeah,” I said. “Can you believe it? I mean, I know there are swingers here. I’ve heard about that swingers’ club downtown. But I guess I just thought you could identify them. Like, the women all wear synthetic blond wigs and the men all have chest hair. And medallions.
“So listen,” I continued. “Are they, like, out now? Do you know any swingers?”
“Me?” Karen paused uncomfortably. “No!”
“You’ve never met any swingers at a party or something? Or heard about them?”
“Well,” Karen paused. “No. But I mean, I know a lot of gay men….”
I snorted. “That is not the same thing.” Through the receiver, I heard a horn honking.
“Whoa!” Karen squealed. “That 18-wheeler just came right into my lane.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m on my way to Bible study.”
“Well, can you ask them?”
“Ask them what?”
“Ask them if they know any swingers, Karen, and if so, do they look like normal people.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.”
I hung up—dejected, back to square one. Or was I?
“Hubs? You know that swingers club downtown? You’ve got to take me there.” Hubs choked on his coffee.
“Are you serious?”
“We’re not going to go in,” I clarified. “We’re going to sit outside in our car and see who else shows up.”
“Why?”
“Research,” I said importantly. “I need to know what swingers look like. As a public service to my readers. I’m all about giving them helpful information.”
“OK,” he shrugged.
I could tell that, secretly, Hubs was just as interested in seeing who would show up at the swingers club as I was. Surely we’d see someone unexpected—a city councilman with his girlfriend in tow, maybe, or our CPA and his wife, who just might flash a fishnet-stockinged leg from under her trench coat as they eagerly climbed the stairs. We were about to crack this wide open.
Late that night, we drove into the heart of what now barely qualifies as Nashville’s sex district. It wasn’t hard to spot the swingers’ club, nestled like an oversized rhinestone among the cheap plastic beads that made up the rest of the neighborhood.
“Park across the street,” I whispered nervously, lifting my binoculars to my eyes. We parked and we waited.
Feeling detectivey, I busied myself making mental notes on the cars outside. One Ford Expedition. White. One red convertible sports car. Newish. One Infiniti. Definitely nicer than the junky El Caminos and compact cars you see in most strip club parking lots.
After disappointedly concluding that none of the cars were marked with a fish symbol or a “My child is an A student at Julia Green Elementary School” bumper sticker, I turned my attention to the club’s windows, all expertly shaded.
Suddenly, there was movement. A well-dressed man exited the building and got in his SUV. He was smoking a cigarette, which surely indicated that there’d been carnal activity. A few minutes later, a car drove up. And then another. And I was forced to draw some startling conclusions.
The first is that the swingers aren’t making themselves readily identifiable with polyester pants or pinky rings. Nashville’s swingers dress very much like your suburban neighbors. Our South Street acquaintance would’ve fit right in. But it’s my second conclusion that will blow the lid off all your spouse-swapping ideas.
Nashville’s swingers? They’re all male. From what I could gather, the swingers’ club was a high-priced, private version of most other bars in Nashville, filled with men who sit around nursing drinks and morosely waiting for hot chicks to show up.
No wonder they’re recruiting.
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>Yep, you blew the lid right off that mammajamma.Sure you had the right place?
>Oh yeah. Definitely. I read the website before we went. It was full of specific instructions on the art of swinging.
>Oh dear.Next time you get a troll, can I have it?
>what the hell is a troll? why have I been hearing that a lot lately?Swinging eh? lol… have I got a funny story for you!
>I am sure your parents will enjoy that one.Swingers–I was recruited (almost) when I was in Vegas. Huh.
>I had a troll but it only lasted for a few days…LOVE THE NEW LOOK!! I have a new one too!
>That is too funny. I’ve always been curious as to who does that stuff, and you’ve opened my eyes. Now I want to shut them tight and wish I didn’t know again. :)A family member of mine works with a woman who used to swing, with her husband. They were very open about it. Now they are getting divorced and she is blaming him for getting her into it. I can’t imagine sleeping with other people would be good for your marriage, but whatever blows yer skirt up, so to speak.Can’t wait to hear about your troll. I have one too, but I have to change his ass. Actually, lately two trolls have been harrassing me, but I’m ignoring them, hoping they will get bored and move on.
>HOLY crap: Ok, get this, I have never been a church person until Spring of 2004-that is another story all together, but suffice to say I did not know how church people ‘acted’. I met a couple-and the next week they ‘followed’ me to the complete other side of the church and sat next to me. We got to know one another-doing couple things-and I felt like I had to lay it out there that the husband and I DO NOT swing. TRUE story…I still have the friendship to prove it!
>Love the new blog look!! I’ve been away for a bit, but it’s really fabulous. Mr. Half and I were approached once by a couple who (we were sure!!) were swingers. Creepy!
>We always seem to be bait for recruiters, but not for sex. Three times now we’ve been “befriended” by another couple over the course of a day or evening, only to later find out they were looking for new members for some dumb pyramid marketing scheme. God I hate that!
>I was at a dinner at a hotel once. I’m sure that there was also a swingers convention in progress. They were overt in their PDA. I wanted to tiptoe around the corner to see what I saw, but I wasn’t with the sort of people that would approve…namely Ballet Society types. And they already didn’t like me much.
>I wonder if those of us that haven’t been propositioned should be insulted? Like, aren’t we GOOD ENOUGH? LOL
>Loved the column. You make me wish I lived in Nashville.but the troll?
>I want to party with some of you people.
>my whole family is really into swinging these days. not that kind though.
>The only swinging we have in this here town is the kind in backyards with kids. Or drunk adults. And what’s up with the troll? Can’t wait to read up on that one.
>My entire family once happened upon a Swingers Convention in Lake Tahoe. My Dad got propositioned and to this day likes to talk about his “pimp-dom.” I kinda think it was because of his mustache. Swingers looooove their mustaches, boy.
>swingers in nashville?! it keeps getting better! you’ve hit it big when you have a troll, so, strangely enough maybe congratulations are in order.
>Holy funny!That was a great story!No swingers trying to recruit out here in Denver. At least not where I go!
>Loved the column! To funny about the club being full of men waiting for the hot chicks! That cracked me up! My daycare lady admited to me that she and her husband were swingers when they were having marital troubles!! They looked normal, lived in the suburbs 3 kids very normal people….The worst thing was they swung with police officers where they lived. Umm needless to say that was to much information. Maybe I should be offended they didnt ask me bwaaahahaha…. Cant wait to hear about the troll.
>I read your article and I thought it was immature, and narrow minded. I don’t think most swingers are male, gay, or lurkers waiting for prey. I believe they are normally commited couples who are open to what most people aren’t sexually. Maybe you should do a little more research, Oprah did. By the way, how long did it take for the owners of the club to catch on to you spying?
>Anonymous, It was a humor column. H.U.M.O.R.I was making fun of suburban attitudes about swinging. Please don’t tell me you thought I was serious…And hey, thanks for reading!