Eventually, once we’d reboarded the boat after our snorkeling, I did start talking with a few of the women I met at the Gen O mixer earlier that week, and it only took a couple of drinks for us to become the best of friends. Then there are the fake swingers. These couples tend to be younger. They attend all the big events, and if there's a stripper pole in the room, you can bet they'll be the first ones on it. But when it comes down to the actual swinging, they're more into the exhibitionist aspect of the lifestyle and ultimately are not looking for sex with other couples. I’m watching a Silicon Valley CEO being led around the room on a leash. His wife is in the next room, where a jewellery designer is getting comfortable with three men who definitely aren’t her husband. I’m part of the LA swinging community and at these parties, anything goes. For a few hours everyone can forget the stresses of juggling normal life and live judgement free. There are couples who’ve come together and some who’ve come alone (though always with their partner’s approval). That was the appeal for me - the ability to explore your sexuality whilst also maintaining an open, trusting relationship.

Lynette is 53 years old, though she looks at least 10 years younger. She was born and raised in London to Jamaican parents. She’d recently separated from her wife, whom she’d been with for 21 years. This cruise was the gift Lynette gave herself in the aftermath. She was starting over. My husband and I spent the morning on a private, nude island near Raiatea with a group of swingers, getting full body tans while letting husbands and wives take turns playing with my naked breasts.

She’s a true Pisces — romantic and dreamy and always processing. (My Capricorn groundedness makes us a good match, allegedly.) She’s known she was gay since she was 5 years old. Her mom still prays that, someday, she’ll find herself a good man. Once, after I came in her hands, I burst into tears (yeah, I know, big dyke energy), and she held me tightly in her strong, sure arms. “You’re OK,” she said. “I’ve got you.” She kissed my hair.

We settled into the familiar comfort of not having to hide anything; not having to pretend that we define our love with sexual fidelity. In having the opportunity to be ourselves, we were able to truly relax. And that’s what vacations are for, right? The refurbishment of the property is still ongoing and to be honest only 2 rooms were at a fair standard , the dining and one of the downstairs bedrooms . It all seems to be done on the cheap and the quality of furniture and fixtures are very poor. At first, sitting alone on the catamaran heading out for my snorkeling excursion, I felt shy again, and wished I had Dana or Jamie and Matie at my side. One of the guys running the boat, a youngish dude with dreads, took pity on me and brought me a glass of water. He asked me if I was staff on the cruise, noting my friendlessness, and I told him I was a reporter. So at 7:30 on a Thursday night, Courtney and I arrive for the party at a club in the South of Market neighborhood. It’s cold and drizzling, the kind of weather that’s more encouraging of Netflix and chill than sexual adventures. A male bouncer lets us past the door into a bar area warmed by tungsten glow and furnished with afghan rugs, ample seating on red velvet-covered chairs and inexplicable, charming typewriters. Women mill about the room.

Though my eyes remained closed, I could feel the energy of everyone in the room discovering how profound masturbation can be when you aren’t just racing to reach a climax. I was the one who seemed to stress this rule the most. I warned my partner about it all the time: Don’t leave me. But they were confident that they’d always love only me; with other people, they assured me, it would only ever just be sex.