Skip to main content"Are you into clubs?" he asks, altogether too eager to hear my answer. I'm thinking, "What sort of clubs? Dance clubs? Rock clubs? Juggling clubs?" I say that the only time I ever go to bars is if I work there, a friend works there, I'm playing pool or I'm seeing a band. "I went to this really amazing club last weekend, you wouldn't believe it." We're heading for 39th and Powell. Duh. "Are you talking about Ace of Hearts?"—the swingers club. "Yeah, it was amazing."
"I thought Ace didn't let in single men." Such clubs usually don't, or at least restrict their numbers.
From his account, I guess Ace falls into the "restrict their numbers" camp. "Man, it was amazing" (he likes this word). "People doing absolutely anything. And they're all just normal people, that's what really blew me away."
I am unsurprised. Once, in looking for housing on Craigslist, I saw a listing for a free room, female only. In an anthropological spirit I went to check it out, and spent a friendly hour with a couple in their late 40s, discussing threesomes. I opted to continue paying rent.
"So I'm going to see if I can get in this weekend, too," he says. I eye his flip-flops, track pants and T-shirt and think, jeez, if I was trying to get laid, even in a sex club, I'd make more of an effort. Like, oh, bathing. I mean, there's normal and there's too normal.
WWeek 2015