Laura Roscioli is a sex writer based in Melbourne. Her fortnightly column on Fashion Journal is here to make sex (and the conversations around it) more accessible and open-minded. She believes that the best learnings come from lived experience, and she’s here to share hers — and other people’s — with you. You can follow Laura on Instagram at @lauraroscioli.
I’ve always wanted to be in a relationship that occasionally forays into the open sex space, but I’d never found a place — or person — that felt right, until now. Tonight, my boyfriend and I are going to a ‘play party’.
Interested to hear how others navigate the world? Head to our Life section.
My dream visions of sex parties have previously been overshadowed by the slightly sleazy reality of mainstream sex events. Instead of finding a seductive space filled with champagne, black lace, soft red lights and fur blankets, I’ve found highly stylised and performative environments with harsh lighting, loud music and synthetic fabrics on every surface.
I guess I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to intimate environments. Personally, my turn ons haven’t aligned with the mainstream sex party aesthetic — or stigma. Shattering the illusion that sex is only meant to be private, monogamous and wrapped in a neat little bow of romance, sex parties are still highly controversial and loaded with stereotypes. They challenge centuries of religious morality, the social obsession with exclusivity, and the idea that desire should be contained, rather than explored.
Instead of being seen as thrilling spaces for pleasure and connection, they’re painted as reckless, dangerous, or deviant — thanks to a mix of puritanical hang-ups and media sensationalism. Women who attend are often slut-shamed, while men are cast as either desperate or predatory, reinforcing tired double standards.
There’s also this assumption that couples who attend sex parties fall into one of the following categories:
- They’re exploring non-monogamy
- They feel unsatisfied within their relationship and/or are looking for something ‘more’
- They’re polyamorous or have multiple partners
- They’re exploring their own sexuality and queerness
- They’re satiating one half of the partnerships’ desires
- They’ve hit a road block in their sex life; not having sex as much as they used to or wanting more excitement
And while all are valid reasons to attend a sex party, my boyfriend and I identify with none of them in our relationship as it stands. We’re not going because we feel lost in our sex lives. We’re not going to explore our sexuality outside of our relationship. We’re not even really going because we want to push the boundaries of mainstream monogamy. We’re simply curious.
And although being a sex writer naturally lends itself to being open to any and all experiences, there’s something about this particular moment that feels more daunting than the things I’ve tried ‘for the plot’ before.
I think it’s because I’m bringing in someone else. Someone I’m in love with. We had a threesome at the start of our relationship — when things were fun and casual and we hadn’t fallen in love yet — but going to a play party full of sexy, naked and horny strangers now that we’re deeply in love feels a little… dangerous.
“Do you want to come to a play party with me?” I’d asked him one random mid-week afternoon. As soon as the words escaped my lips, I felt my stomach turn. Was this a bad idea? I’ve never been in such a healthy relationship. Is doing something that pushes our boundaries for no reason but curiosity, worth it?
Neither of us could answer. It’s difficult to make decisions in a societal landscape that doesn’t offer any examples outside of monogamy. It’s not like we can look to couples in the public eye who are in healthy relationships and survived a sex party. We know no such couples in our everyday lives or on a public-facing level.
So, we decided to sit down and go through every possible scenario a party like this would involve, as a way of preparing ourselves for ‘anything’. What we came up with was:
- We’d only involve ourselves in things together, not separately with separate people (kissing as the exception)
- Kissing someone without the other person is okay
- Communicate about everything in the moment, even if it means interrupting something
- We’d play in the same room. No sneaking off out of sight
- Nothing was technically off limits in regards to gender, activity, kink, how many people were involved etc — we just had to keep checking in
- If either of us felt uncomfortable, we could tap out immediately
These ‘rules’ made us both feel more at ease. We were doing this together, as a fun and unique experience, and anything we felt or experienced on our own would be communicated in the moment.
But still, I felt a knot in my stomach. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was putting our healthy relationship at risk. I think it’s societal nerves, some sort of mass fear that subconsciously lives inside us all. We get naturally nervous about structures that deviate from the norm, because we feel worried that if we colour outside the lines a little too far; we won’t be able to find our way back.
Fairy tales, rom-coms, and centuries of tradition have drilled in the idea that love means choosing one person forever and ignoring every other temptation. It gives us structure, security, and the comforting illusion that if we follow the rules, we won’t get hurt and we won’t have to deal with uncomfortable feelings of jealousy or not being ‘enough’.
But it’s a tall order to want our chosen one to be our “best friend, passionate lover, intellectual equal, co-parent, therapist, adventure buddy, and emotional safe haven,” says esteemed psychotherapist Esther Perel. And while she doesn’t poo poo monogamy, she highlights that it’s important to embrace the “otherness” of our partners. Assuming we know all of them can lead to complacency, and that curiosity is a key element in eroticism within ourselves, our partners and our relationships at-large.
And with that in mind, I’m determined to turn my nervousness into excitement. It’s like those first few weeks and months of dating, when you really like someone but have no idea how things will pan out. The discomfort within the unknown — otherwise known as the ‘thrill’ or ‘spark’ we’re all constantly searching for — is as enjoyable as it is challenging.
My nerves are my very human instinct to play it safe. I have something precious in my life that society thinks I’d be better off not risking, because the majority of people haven’t tried it and therefore are afraid of its potential consequences. Which means that I should be afraid too.
But, like so much of what comes with the task of writing about the taboo, I’m going to follow the instinct that my relationship is strong enough to be challenged. And I’m going to see what’s on the other side.
Follow Laura here.
This article Can my relationship survive a sex party? appeared first on Fashion Journal.
2025-02-26 06:29:00
#relationship #survive #sex #party
Source link
