Confession: I Am A Swinger

It’s astonishing how much can change in a year. Twelve months ago, the term "swinger" was something I might have heard in passing, perhaps in some scandalous TV show or a whispered conversation at a dinner party. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would become a part of my reality—or that I would be sharing every saucy sexcapade on our Vanilla Swingers swinger podcast. Not only am I living this new reality, but I’m living, breathing, and obsessing over it.

Back then, I was the epitome of monogamy. My husband and I had been together since our wild college days. We were that couple—attached at the hip, loyal to the core, and seemingly content with the typical, predictable life we had built. And then, one fateful night, an innocent jaunt to a libertine club in Paris turned into something... more.

I still remember that first club - Le Mask in Paris. The nervous energy, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I had no idea what to expect, and part of me wanted to grab my husband’s hand and flee back to the safety of our suburban bubble. But curiosity got the better of us. We stayed, we mingled, and, well, the rest is history.

Now, here we are. It's been a whirlwind year filled with experiences that would make my former self blush in disbelief. We’ve gone from being monogamous college sweethearts to sharing ourselves—quite literally—with others. And I’ll be honest: it’s been thrilling.

I can still feel the electric sensation of someone else’s hands on me for the first time. The touch of unfamiliar fingers, the way they brushed across my skin, the sheer novelty of it all. It’s not just about the physical, though. There’s something incredibly intimate about the act of letting someone else into the sacred space that my husband and I once kept solely for ourselves. It’s like we’re writing a new chapter in our relationship—a steamy, page-turning chapter that neither of us saw coming.

But here’s the kicker: it’s not scandalous. Not in the way the media would have you believe. There are no crazed sex addicts or reckless abandon at every turn. It’s not a wild, uncontrolled free-for-all. Swinging, for us, is about connection—about deepening the bond we already share. We’ve opened up our lines of communication in ways we never thought possible, sharing taboo fantasies and sometimes even acting on them. We don’t do it out of desperation or boredom. We do it because it’s exciting, yes, but also because it brings us closer together, both emotionally and physically.

You’d think that after so many years together, we’d be settling into middle age, focusing on quiet nights in and the occasional dinner out. But instead, we’re living like we’re in our twenties again—dressing up in ridiculously sexy outfits, attending themed parties that stretch into the early hours, and even booking cruises that cater to our newfound lifestyle. It’s exhilarating, and it’s addictive. And, dare I say it, it’s made us feel alive in a way that we hadn’t in years.

Sometimes, we indulge in the anonymity of it all—the thrill of touching, kissing, and playing with someone whose name we barely know. It takes me back to my youth, to those reckless nights where everything was new and forbidden, like sneaking out behind your parents’ backs. There’s something deliciously naughty about it, even now, as a grown woman who should probably know better.

But you know what? I don’t care. I’ve never felt more liberated, more in tune with myself, and more connected to my husband than I do now. Swinging isn’t some desperate attempt to cling to our youth or escape reality. It’s about celebrating who we are, together and individually, and reveling in the experiences we choose to share.

So yes, I am a swinger. And I’m proud of it. Because instead of letting life slow us down, we’ve decided to turn up the heat. We’re not just growing older—we’re growing bolder. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.