Sometimes I think living in Marin is a lot like the opening scene of David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet” — all blue skies, waving firemen leading parades and sunny smiles on the surface, but hundreds of Dennis Hoppers quietly sniffing laughing gas (or whatever that was) and indulging in all sorts of fetishes and debauchery in private.
I wasn’t really aware of it as a sheltered Marin soccer/Little League mom, but cast out into the odd World o’ Singles as a fortysomething divorcee after 15 years of marriage, I, like an amateur anthropologist, have uncovered a Marin I didn’t fully appreciate.
I know, of course, that years ago, a few hotels around the county were used for filming porn. I’m aware of the famous people here who offer no-holds-barred tantric weekends. And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a few famous porn stars walk around Lytton Square (although why I can remember them by their faces is a mystery to me).
And in indulging in my semi-obsession, Craigslist, I’ve discovered there’s an entire world of activities and interests a few miles from my home that I would never have been privy to unless the online community existed. Women looking for men to have a baby with, people seeking others to listen to an L.A. radio talk show twice a month, cuddle parties (you know, pay $30 and spend an afternoon of “nurturing touch and playful communication in a supportive, non-sexual environment”) and a “Naked in Public” workshop that will help you set up a podcast or blog and “keep some privacy while getting naked on the Web.”
Sometimes, it makes me feel, well, rather dull.
But I got fully thrust into Marin’s sexual underworld by accident ... or perhaps karma.
I look at my midlife singleness as a time to reinvent myself, a time to get to know myself better, having lost so much of who I am in my marriage. I also see this as a time to push myself outside my comfort zone when it comes to dating and relationships. I don’t want to feel like Babs in “Chicken Run”: “All me life flashed before me eyes. It was really borin’.”
Sometimes the universe helps you along by having someone enter your life who guides you through that, someone to challenge your ideas of who and what you are.
Nina was that person for me.
I met her on the trails I often head to for my walks with my dog. We started chatting one day and discovered we had a few things in common: her son and mine are about the same age, we’re both divorced and we both love the same books.
But mostly, we like talking about sex.
One winter day as we walked the muddy trail and shared our latest escapades, Nina turned to me and said, “I want you to meet my dear friends, Diana and Clay. I’ve been telling them all about you. They want to know you.”
“Sure. What are they like?”
“Oh, you’ll love them. They’re super-creative, intellectual, out-there people. They throw these amazing, lavish parties at their mansion. You’ll come with me! It’ll be wonderful.”
A party? I’m not one to turn down a good party and a chance to meet creative people. Nina, a former actress, was edgy, with an uncertain past but one that most definitely involved flirtations — or more — with women, and she had interesting friends. I was intrigued.
“I can be your date,” I teased.
As it turned out, Diana and Clay were planning a party soon.
“So, what should I wear?” I asked Nina, imaging I might meet a nice guy there.
“Oh, anything ... or nothing!” she laughed. “Maybe something latex or vinyl. Sexy, you know.”
Latex or vinyl?
I began to sweat, and it had nothing to do with my perimenopausal hot flashes, either.
“Well, I just happen to have the most perfect vinyl outfit!” I joked, hoping my voice didn’t betray me. “So, um, just what kind of party is it anyway? Birthday? Cocktail? Costume?”
“No, silly,” she said, as she flashed me a sly smile. “It’s a sex party. I’ll call you later, and we can plan.”
And then she kissed me — on the lips! It was nothing like that Madonna-Britney kiss; just a quick peck. All of a sudden, Jill Sobule’s “I Kissed a Girl” filled my head — “I kissed a girl, her lips were sweet. She was just like kissing me ...”
“Oh, of course. Sure,” I said, flustered, but I knew that I wasn’t sounding all that convincing.
I’d heard of sex parties, of course, and know people who go to them — aren’t they always in far-flung places like Vacaville or Fremont? — and places like the Power Exchange in San Francisco. But as much as I was open to exploring new ways of thinking and living, I wasn’t so sure this was the direction I was headed.
But I went shopping for an outfit anyway; to Pleasures of the Heart first, figuring if I couldn’t find something there, I’d hit V.I.P. on the way home. But as I looked through the red-vinyl bustiers and black latex hot pants, I had an epiphany of sorts — I just couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t help conjuring up visions of that scene in “Eyes Wide Shut” with a lot of people in various states of dress and undress standing around doing whatever it is that one does at a sex party. I imagined running into the people I see around my hometown — the young barista I flirt with, the waiter I think is hot, the woman who does my dry cleaning, my stuffy mortgage broker, the arrogant attorney I frequently see on the express bus or, perhaps worst of all, one of Trent’s teachers — in that room, doing things that I’m not sure I’d want to see them doing (except, of course, the cute barista and the hottie waiter).
For all my so-called willingness to go to the edge of experimentation, for all Nina’s and my suggestive banter, I was still pretty much more of a Marin soccer mom than a Marin dominatrix.
I needed an out, and just as the universe delivered Nina to me, it delivered a convenient excuse — Rob, my former hubby, asked me if I could watch Trent that night so he could go out of town for business.
I’ve never wanted to watch The Kid more than I did that night, even though he insisted we spend the evening in front of the tube watching yet another blood-and-guts action flick on DVD.
“Help me find ‘Excalibur,’ OK?” Trent pleaded as we searched the titles up and down the aisles at Video Droid.
And there was “Excalibur” — right next to “Eyes Wide Shut.”
I couldn’t help but smirk.
“What?” Trent asked me, puzzled, as he reached for the DVD case.
“Oh, nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Mom, you’re sooooo out there.”
Actually, not that out there ...
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