Swing City
Would you sleep with your friend's ex? Sharing is caring in sex columnist Dorothy Black's world.
Image: Getty Images
I heard a juicy little nib of gossip the other day. One of Cape Town’s darling restaurants, I was told, turns into a swingers club after 12 on some nights*. Being the investigative journalist that I am, I SMS’d Miss America for textual confirmation. If there was a swinger’s party happening in the city she'd know about it. And, hell, I ought to know about it, dammit. I got this back:
LOL. I’ll find out later. But really Dot, you NEED a swinger’s club? This is CT after all.
True. I’m spit sisters with most of my friends, in one way or another. If we’ve not snogged each other, we’ve ended up kissing or sleeping with the same boy at some point. Three degrees of separation takes on a whole new angle in the diversity-challenged Mother City. Without fail, the new person you’re into in Cape Town will have kissed/dated/shagged someone you know, probably your boss or BFF – whichever is more uncomfortable usually.
Which is probably why that silly Man TV programme was filmed here. It’s the only place in the world those ridiculous ratios would actually make any sense: ‘Three Four Gays Guys, One City, Three Million Women. Can They Handle It?’ Can’t wait to see them try. And what happens to the other 2 999 997 women? Glad our Jozi sisters don't have this problem. Anyway, I’ll catch the show online. Like most people with some sort of social life I don’t usually find myself sitting in front of the TV at 9.30 pm on a Friday night watching other people trying to get laid. Nice targeting there SABC.
But I digress.
You see, sharing is caring here in the Mother City. Miss America was right. Cape Town is so small it is its own swinger’s club. Which, while I’m sure many of you won’t agree, has its advantages. Allow me to illustrate.
I met new boy, Mr Hardman, through my good friend Bunny. Well, I knew him way before I actually met him, because he and Bunny were intimate in the biblical sense and, well, girls talk. Before I had the pleasure to meet him in person, I knew what kind of lay he was, how great he was with his tongue and, importantly, that Bunny thought he and I should hook up at some point. She's generous that way.
At that stage I was shagging The Don intermittently. And naturally shared details with Bunny – what kind of lay he was, how great he was with his tongue, and importantly, that Bunny and him would probably make a cool couple and should give it bash at some point. I'm generous that way.
See where this is going?
Two splits and a few months later, Bunny and I effectively switched partners. Maybe not the most romantic of situations, but certainly one of the most convenient. And as Grandpa used to say, one person's crazy is another's catch.
Look, it wasn't all moonshine and farts. There were pretty uncomfortable moments:
(Me and Bunny on her balcony swopping notes after the switch...and after a few glasses of vino...)
Bunny: Soooooo, aaaaannd?
Me: Ooooh, it's sooooo cooool, you weerre soooo right (gush gush gush)
Bunny: See? I told you! I TOLD you!
Me: You did. You're so smart. I love you.
Bunny: I love you toooo!
Me: It was sooo cool, Bunny, he told me I was, like, his perfect match...it was sooo romantic...
Bunny: (pause)
Me: * sigh *
Bunny: (pause)
Me: Bunny?
Bunny: He said the same thing to me.
Awkward.
Anyway. Bygones.
Mr Hardman and I are still seeing each other and it's turning out to be quite a lot of fun. I'd love to tell you who Bunny's moved on to but it's quite likely that someone knows someone who knows who her shag is and that would be unfortunate, so I'd rather not. It is a very, very small world after all.
* 'Eyes and Ears' Miss America is holding out on me on specifics.
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