By the time we arrived the clothing-optional resort in Jamaica called Hedonism for Young Swingers Week, my boyfriend Jesse and I had already been on vacation for five days — and hadn't had sex in even longer.
We'd been staying at a fancy, romantic resort down the beach in Negril, Jamaica. Azul Beach Resort Sensatori Jamaica was an all-inclusive experience filled with food so good it became the center of our days, a luxury California king we slept on opposite sides of, and complimentary Champagne bottles we didn't drink. Don't get me wrong, we had a good time — it was impossible not to in that kind of luxury — but if I was hoping our problems would be erased on vacation, I was smoking too much Jamaican ganja (guilty as charged).
We'd hit pause on going on dates with other people a few months prior, after a big fight that both was and wasn't about non-monogamy nearly broke us up.
The result was the same as the other times we've closed our relationship over the last three years: less anxiety (for me), less sex drive (for both of us, especially him), and a feeling of putting a Band-Aid over our potential incompatibilities (or were they simply growing pains?).
While being with Jesse — my first open relationship — has shown me I definitely don't want monogamy, I've never been sure I'm as polyamorous as he is, either, wanting ongoing, serious relationships with other people. Actually, I know I want them — it just still hasn't happened for me. Despite my near-constant interest in new romantic experiences, I haven't seemed to attach to anyone else for more than a month. I've sometimes wondered if maybe I'm more like a swinger: romantically monogamous, sexually adventurous. By attending Young Swingers Week (which is open to any couples 18 to 45ish), I hoped to find some clarity.
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Upon our arrival at the infamous clothing-optional resort Hedonism II Negril, we were led to to the sign-in table where we could choose between three necklace colors we'd wear as shorthand: green for "open-minded but inexperienced," red for more experienced but "depends on the situation," and blue for "DTF" — aka down to have sex.
There was also an option to add a white bead, which meant that you were "allowed" to do things without your partner. In order to get one, you both had to take an oath together saying you consented. I knew he would have preferred blue.
Hedonism feels a lot like naughty Summer camp, and Young Swingers Week packed a schedule of activities meant to facilitate just that kind of bonding. The first was the nude pool welcome party, where a sea of over 150 bodies were packed in like sunburned lobsters for the swapping.
In broad daylight, a woman was already being eaten out while another was getting having sex next to her in the hot tub. Nobody blinked. ("I don't mess with the hot tub," one veteran later told me. "Let's just say there's a lot of stuff floating on the surface in the morning." Like most of my hygienic concerns for the next few days, I buried that unwanted information as deeply as possible.) This is part of the magic of Hedonism, Young Swingers Week or not — every body is a good body, and you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, so long as there's consent.
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We stripped down, and almost immediately, two couples came over to us and started making not unintelligent conversation. Surrounded by two new naked women now, Jesse became animated in a way I hadn't seen in weeks. My resentment began to grow. I found them attractive myself, but in my jealous state, these women were now my rivals — especially the one who bore my middle name, which is also the name of Jesse's lover. Perfect. Just perfect. My anxiety began to rise.
That first night, I refused to check out the "playroom," where the swingers go to swap, watch, or be watched. I felt pressured, and Jesse felt restricted, especially since men aren't allowed in alone. We had a big fight, one of our worst. The morning after, I tried to push him away, told him to go off without me.
"I'll go get you a bead. I don't care what you do," I maturely bluffed.
"No. It's no fun for me unless you're having fun. I want to do everything together here. I'm not going to pressure you. You call the shots this week, OK? You have total control."
With those words, his explicit offer to act like swingers — prioritizing the relationship above all else, giving me total veto power over his actions — put me at ease almost immediately. I started to feel safe. Open. Maybe these people were onto something.