Rest in Peace

A moment’s silence, please, for all my fuck buddies who have recently passed on to the other side—monogamy.

Perhaps because it is winter, and a cuddly bed partner sounds awfully cozy, or perhaps it is just a stage in life. But several sluts of my acquaintance are settling down.

It began with lovely Amanda, who was one of the most beloved swinger girls out there. She was a centerpiece at my gatherings—often at the center of many bodies—and loads of fun one on one. She met a fine young man, determined to bring him into the fold of bi group sex. Alas, he was more convincing, and so he lured her to contented monogamy.

Dear Geri was introduced to me by the fourth man she had ever had a sex with. A threesome later, and I was number five. She joined our gatherings and quickly worked her way into the double digits, also beginning a new column for women she had bedded. She was happily crunching the numbers when she met “the one.” She went monogamous of her own accord—he wasn’t even asking for that commitment. Get this: she wanted it!

Klaus and I met a year ago. He is tall, blonde, and exceptionally handsome, like a Depression era film star. We had great sex. I told him about my gatherings, and he expressed interest in attending. He’s gay and had never slept with a woman; I watched him lose his virginity. He fast became very popular—all the boys and girls loved Klaus. One day, he announced his retirement. He had enjoyed women, but he was back to a diet of men only. We did more male parties together, and then, just like in the movies, the star met Mister Right. Roll credits.

My soul sister Elena broke a year long stretch without sex—and four without men—when we got naked together. After being pursued by a number of women who just weren’t good fits, the world’s most femme girl met the cutest butch girl ever. Now they are throwing around the L Word—and no, I don’t mean lezzie.

Thomas—our aficionado of the she-males—has been on a few dates with a woman of the genetic variety whom he thinks may be just the one to make a straight boy out of him.

Celia is seeing her therapist—or is she seeing her therapist? —and decided to be exclusive.

And now Marla finds that the local talent she picked up a few weeks ago is becoming pretty steady company. She even woke the other morning to find that he was no longer in her bed; he was cleaning her kitchen. Once someone is cleaning your kitchen, it’s time to pick out a china pattern. Oh no, says Marla. I am not settling down. That’s good to hear, I said, as we made a date for sex.

That evening is fine, she said as we compared calendars. But I’d like to try to be home by nine; the local talent will be calling me.

Only a matter of time. I’ve told her that when she calls to say she is going monogamous, I am sticking my fingers in my ears and not listening.

Of course, I wish them well. I hope that things work out, if this is what they want. And I wonder: if the monogamy bug ever bites me again—big if!—will I regret the ones who got away?