the mundane

Transcript

Speaker1: Good morning, good afternoon, good evening. Wherever you are, I hope you have blue skies. Welcome to that other lifestyle podcast. I am your host, Jason. Leave vanilla behind as we talk about the mundane. This podcast is for adults only. We'll be diving into adult and sexual topics with plenty of colorful language, so it is not safe from work. If you're under 18, this is not the place for you. Get the hell out. This show is about exploring the lifestyle is open to everyone, no matter your background, gender, identity, expression, or your personal truth. While I do my best to use inclusive language, you might hear terms like husband, wife, or partner for simplicity's sake. This show is for everyone though, lifestyle, vanilla, or just the curious. You want to connect, send me an email to host at thatotherlifestyle.com or visit my website thatotherlifestyle.com. Everyone is welcome here because the lifestyle is so much more than you think. This is another 2am script. I didn't plan on writing this at 2am. I had the general idea of what I wanted to talk about in this week rolling around in my head. Now that I'm awake at this magical quiet hour, pouring, composing, letting the words flow from my fingers to your ears, might as well do it. Thank you for giving me time this week to share. It is right and good to write this script down in the quiet hour, because late at night or early in the morning, depending on when your ass went to bed, this is the time for memories. Not the kind of memories that cause blood to rush around the body, but memories that cause the soul to rush around the universe. When you wake up in the middle of the night, do not spend that precious time on ruminations, douse, fears, or stress. Take the little boat out into the ocean of memories and just float for a little while. Let the happy thoughts, the happy moments, come to you. And the happiest memories I have are the most mundane. The mundane memories are moments that I cherish, and let's talk about why you should cherish them too. To tell you a story. She is glowing, or at least in my memory she is. being who decided to land in this hotel room, curled up on the couch reading a smutty book beneath a knitted blanket she brought from home. I think the blanket was white and blue. Her smile blocks out many details, like locking eyes with a floodlight. The early morning sun shines through a window, outlining her in a halo of refracted kindness and erotic energy. I remember gasping at the sight and hiding that gasp in a groan and a grumble. This was a few months ago. My wife and I took a weekend trip out of town with our friends. My wife and the other guy, they're the type to sleep in late on a Saturday morning. I am not. I'm happy I am not. Because I got up early to find coffee and I found this vision. Instead, a vision to keep. There is peace with my friend in this memory. Quiet, contemplative. She closes the book and tells me good morning in her usual sweet lyrical voice. I mumble as I always do when I first wake up. My voice is gravel and she liked it. We discuss the need for coffee and I'm sent on a quest to find it in the hotel lobby. I return with two coffees. Mine was black, and I think she had a latte. We sit on the couch, and I ask her about her book. I don't remember any of the plot details she told me about. I just remember her voice. Her voice sings in my mind, and I find myself listening to the pitch between the words. There is an emotion inside of me flowing, swelling, happiness, I think. Humanity, maybe? Connection with another person on a level beyond sex. She won't remember this moment the same as I do, even if she I probably look like a bumbling, hungover mess, so maybe it's good she doesn't. From her vantage point, there was nothing radiant about me, nothing attractive. Disheveled and stiff, sleep still in my eyes and my beard uncommed. Like I said, she may not remember it at all, and that's fine because this is my memory. The funny thing about these little beasts in time that I love is how we all perceive them and we keep them differently. From my perspective, I saw her a being of lust and erotic energy that can shut down my brain with a Draped in light, looking peaceful and beautiful. A woman that many men would give so much to be in her presence. And here I sat, entrapped, hypnotized through blurry eyes, I was there. Another moment another day, further from shore, further in time. We were at a sexy party at a friend's house, and the garage door makes a playroom about 1 a.m. The party is still in full force. The kind of force that makes noises, wet noises, moaning. Mattresses were strewn about, a girl pile was going for at least an hour solid. But I'm not in that room. I'm in the kitchen, naked, eating chicken nuggets. Another woman, beautiful woman, naked, eating chicken nuggets with me. And we were talking about homeowner's insurance. This woman is stunning. By any measure of the word conceived by the wishes of men, she has curves in kindness and smiles. And there I was, eating chicken nuggets. And I still remember the way her hair and her breasts bounced whenever she laughed at my bad jokes. another memory and another moment when I had all the grace of a nervous high school student fighting the erection beneath my dress pants. We went to a Mardi Gras ball and we brought a lady friend with us. And I insisted on dancing with her, a slow dance. Yes, they actually did slow dances at this thing. I can't remember the song. I remember her smile and I remember trying to keep my hands under control. She was wearing this white dress, the most vanilla outfit I'd seen her in in forever. And I remember, We were nervous. I was nervous. And it's strange for two swingers to be slow dancing in a community center filled with vanillas. Strange for two people who have thoroughly enjoyed each other's bodies to be nervous. Or at least I was. She, again, may remember this differently if she remembers it at all. Our lust contained my hand sliding down her back, trying not to go too low, and noticing that she actually wore underwear for once. And I'm twice her size, and in all this chaos, my mantra was don't step on her toes. It was a happy moment. It was simple. It wasn't sexy. I sit in the boat on the ocean of memories in my mind, letting the waves lap against the hull. The rhythmic clapping, the only sound in the vast sea. And I wait. I wait for something beautiful to flow towards me. Another moment to share. My friends sitting in my living room, making friendship bracelets together, laughing. I am a spectator to this moment as I am firmly fucking planted on the couch for my own safety, choosing to sit, choosing to contain myself and resist the temptations of the many adult substances that I did not take. I just want to observe this. I watch my friends laugh. I watch them smile. I watch them attempt to sing karaoke. Some are very good. I am not. I learned about the song Pink Pony Club that night, so there's that. My mind is assaulted by chaos and noise. I never said all Monday moments are quiet and peaceful. A dear friend needed to have a birthday, needed a place to have her birthday party, and we volunteered our house on a random Monday night. I cherish that one. I have rescued hats from lakes. I have eaten frozen shrimp by a pool. I have been summoned in the middle of the night to calm down a friend. I have loaned out clothes for parties. I have dressed my friends frantically in hotel rooms. I have played board games with friends at their kitchen table till 1 a.m. I have done a lot of things that no one would consider spicy or sexy or very swingerish. No one would consider cool. A lot of stories that would disappoint those looking for fuckery and adventures. People ask me about the lifestyle. What is the wildest thing I have done? And I'm honest, I haven't a fucking clue. How do you measure that? By participants in the room? By the number of times I orgasmed? By the number of holes I got to fuck? The wild times, yes, I can summon them up from the ocean of my own history with effort, sure. But they don't float on the surface. It takes effort to drag that net up to the surface and figure out what I caught. When someone asks me about my happiest moments, or the ones that bring me the most joy, the answer is never what they expect. Because floating on the surface, an easy ride out past the waves and breakers of the current day, are those most mundane, but in all experiences that I cherish so much from my time in the lifestyle. I've had sex. I've had good sex. I've had not good sex. I have done things in the lifestyle that vanilla men would break their own fingers to experience. Threesomes? Yes, I've totally done the thing two women at one time. So many vanilla men dream about this one. I have done it. And it is way harder than you think. You can't satisfy two women at one time unless you were really good at satisfying at least one woman. This isn't braggadocious. This is context. This is me drawing a line between two very different experiences and where they sit within my mind. To me, the mundane, the banal, the simple moments of humanity and friendship are the memories I cherish so much more than the sex. This is terrible to say out loud, but you know the feeling. The sex blurs together. When it is done, you file the memory away and move on. Maybe it may be taking a particularly spicy memory out for a reminisce when you touch yourself. Maybe wondering if the next time will as good. Wondering. The sex memories lead to wondering. When is the next adventure? Is it going to be better? How can I make it better? Could I have done this better? Did they have fun? Did she get off? Sex leads to confusion. The Monday memories, there's no confusion. They need nothing else. They are rare and exquisite little pops of humanity creation connection. You can't worry or wonder about them because they can never be recreated. Be it with a friend you have known for years or a chance encounter at a party. of expression. They need nothing more than to be remembered and honored. Roll them around, feel the emotion behind it, and keep it safe. My favorites are the ones with no record. Humanity is so desperate to record and archive every little second of what we do with pictures and videos. And I don't. I never think about it. So I need more people around me to take pictures? Because I never think about it. My favorite moments have no record. There is no picture that will outlive me. There is no great repository of my adventures outside of my own head. And I like it that way. I like that my memories will grow hazy until all that's left is a feeling. An emotion that can sustain me in dark times. An emotion that will flow back in years to come. Why do I love the mundane moments in a hobby filled with sex and partying and whatever heathen fun we can find on a Saturday night? The juxtaposition. I walk and acknowledge the fine line, the razor-thin line, between sex and non-sex. The boring little conversations that make the lifestyle so special to me, free abandon of sex. The extremes are not lost on me, and I love them. Just spend a night in rapt pleasure, panting, moaning. Then the next time we're with the same couple, we talk about musicals or boats or screen printing. The contrast between the two gives both more meaning. The contrast between two flavors that make the lifestyle more delicious. I have become acutely aware of the nature of experiences that differ from my own, how other people see the same thing. The universe has been speaking to me recently, and I should and share. So parties. We've known house parties in the past. I know what I experienced with them. My fondest memories are of sneaking off for fun with a particular friend of mine over and over again. I enjoyed that a lot. Oh, where's Jason? He must be outside. Nope, nope. I was, uh, busy. That's my favorite bit. Friends have been sharing with me their memories of our parties. I learned that two friends of mine met while getting flogged on my bed at one of our parties. That's where they first connected and became besties, and that Another person shared that someone got pissed off at one of our parties by an interaction and left in a huff. Didn't know about that. Another party of friend cried and I wasn't there for her, and I don't like that one. A swirl of emotions, a tempest of interactions, humans doing human things, and I'm not even a casual observer. I am fucking oblivious. Time is weird. The way we measure time in the lifestyle is weird. People talk about parties or events like they happened last week, and this could have been years ago. The experiences anchor themselves in our own heads like lighthouses. And my happy ass, I just sailed past blissfully unaware of what transpired. For me, it was just another Saturday night. And for someone else, it was epic and life-changing. And I happened to be there. And I didn't know how much it mattered to them. People create their own memories of mundane moments that I am an unwitting actor in. You are the unwitting actor. And we don't know. You will never know how many stories you are a part of. And there's a tragic beauty to that. These memories help me and they help us stay grounded. If you're always chasing the next high, the next adventure, the next round of fuckery, you're missing out on so much. I know I have. I hear the stories from others and I wonder where the hell was my attention at that moment? Probably distracted by a pretty smile. Probably distracted by horny thoughts. Distracted by planning how the night should go. Too often we focus on the fuckery and miss the rest of the adventure. I have been guilty of that. You have been guilty of that. Anyone who calls themselves lifestyle. Y'all are guilty. of that. Another reason the mundane moments hit so hard, because they break us out of that thought pattern, break us out of the rut of chasing the next orgasm. They give substance to what we do. They remind us as humans that we're all humans attached. They remind us of the humans attached to the genitals. I'll get that sentence out. All too often, especially with the sport fuckers, people forget about the whole ass human attached to the genitals. Laser focus on achieving, fucking, satiating that primal desire. We miss out on the rest. Learning It's not a bad thing. Not saying that at all, but I notice it. It doesn't detract from the attraction, but I know that I will not find the authentic real moments that I want with them unless that mask falls. They exist in a dual world, and I will only see a facet, never the whole ass person, and I guess I have to be okay with that. I know what I'm dealing with and how to meet it, how to face it. They want to go through this as swingers. Fine, let's do that. I will exist in your stories as swinger Jason. There ain't much difference between swinger Jason and vanilla Jason, actually. It just depends on how much I behave myself in public. I don't draw a distinction between my lifestyle persona and my other life. We are out, well, and we do our thing. I know other people can't. I know they have their reasons and I respect that. That's where the value of vanilla adventures, that's why those matter, though. For shame, Jason, how dare you suggest swingers go do something vanilla together? I know, fucking wild idea, right? There's a value in doing vanilla adventures together. It's disarming for people. It forces people to remove their lifestyle mask and just be themselves. And I love that. Show me the real person. Show me who you are when you're not horny. Let me experience this different version. And I won't say the real versus the unreal because that's not the way to look at it. It is part of the same person. And I want to connect with people on all their levels, not just naked. Last year, year before, I don't know, time is a mystery and it all blurs together. Our friends invite us out to see a local band. were going to be there, which is totally fine. Like I said, I can behave myself in public, and I did. It was a great night because I got to see them interact with other people. The other husband shared stories of when he was in a band in college. That night gave my wife and I so much more context about them, so much more substance about who they are. I have another friend. She always wants to show us YouTube videos or play songs she likes, and I love that. I love that about her. I love that she feels comfortable enough with us to share something that makes her happy. I've been in a spot where I want to share a song that I love, that just gives me chills, it speaks to my soul, and no one else reacts that way. They just sit there staring. Then everyone is stuck listening to the song, listening to me trying to justify my appreciation for it for a whole three minutes while they just look at me awkwardly. It takes a lot of comfort to do this in bravery, and our taste in music is so highly personal, even our taste in YouTube videos. For me to share a song that I like takes a lot of balls. Then this friend, this chaotic, red-headed force of nature, she just feels comfortable enough to do that with us. That means a lot to me. Recognizing these moments of authenticity, of honesty, of vulnerability, that makes a lifestyle better. And no one can tell me otherwise. Seeing validating a person who is being vulnerable increases my attraction to them. Like I'm a sucker for a pretty voice. A hushed whisper uttered in sex, a command, a passionate moan, Dirty Talk is fucking awesome. Try to get better at it personally. I pay attention to voices because I talk a lot. I know the power my own voice has. I know the power of words. I know the power a woman's voice has over me. And I know a woman, for instance, who has the voice of an angel. She sings opera. Fucking opera. She is a walking choir. Now, I gotta admit, on the surface, she is intimidating as hell. Long legs. She has this presence that she can just command a room. and there's power in her voice and I was intimidated by her for a long time and then I heard her sing her husband sent me a video of her performing no clue what the song was okay I gotta admit all opera just sounds the same to me but I was a little less intimidated and it wasn't a sexy video it wasn't her naked dancing around she was on stage singing an opera that's one often overlooked value to the mundane there are women and probably men but I don't notice that as much Women who intimidate me, and I won't lie, it happens. Women who still intimidate me even after being intimate with them. Women who can just cause my tongue to fail me. Women who can stop me in my tracks with a look. Women that I see across a room and I cannot will my feet to move towards them. Women who can shut down my brain by texting yes sir on a random Tuesday afternoon. Those little sparks of humanity and connection and the mundane moments, they make the most You want to set the night on fire. STDhero.com has got you covered no matter where your story may go. Be the ultimate lifestyle hero with STDhero's new Ultimate STI Test The Ultimate Hero Panel is a comprehensive, affordable panel for infections transmitted sexually, including anal and oral, which can often be symptomless. The Ultimate Test Screens for 13 high-risk STIs. It is the ultimate protection for those in the lifestyle. Compare the prices and see for yourself. STD Heroes Kits are shipped to your home in discreet packaging, utilising painless blood sample collection. Be safe out there Be a hero of your own story Use promo code TOL15 for 15% off your order at stdhero.com Why would the calm, the funny, the normal, the not-sexy moments matter to us? The great gathering of heathens that we are, my assembled audience Those who ascribe to the ways of sexual freedom A couple of reasons, actually And I'm tired of saying mundane, so I'm... say other moments. They allow our connections and friendships to evolve and become something more. If the only interaction you have with a couple is based around sex, when that sex is gone, for whatever reason, your connection is done. Without a history, without more, without a different anchor, people are going to fade like ghosts in the dawn. There will be no inside jokes, there will be no laughter, no feelings of missing these other people, because they're replaceable. You can find a new set of genitals and go to town It is a subtle acknowledgement that your connections are as friends All too often the lifestyle people shy away from that fucking label We don't want to use labels or if we say someone is a friend That gives them power The power to leave the power to hurt the power to cut us the power to sour our memories But it also gives people the power to connect to support to love and to be more than just a wet spot on the bed For me, it's the mundane memories, the other moments, that allow those connections to hibernate. I could go back to those moments and feel the emotion again. So yes, if we don't see friends for two years, I know the connection is still there. It's sleeping, yes, but it can be awakened. Second, the existence of the other moments, it counters the stereotypes of the lifestyle. No big secret. The vanilla world, they think we are sex-crazed, single is to lure back to our hot tubs, waving pineapple flags around, and trying to convert our friends. This, these glorious pops in reality, where we are happy, where we go further, where the mask slips, is proof that we are more. Proof that we are capable of more. Yes, our collective hobby is fucking people we meet on the internet, but we can be more than that. We can defy those stereotypes. We can choose to defy those stereotypes. You can count the memories that float on the surface instead of those that are beneath the depths. We can show people that we are more than just physical interactions with others. Third, these are the beats in the story when nothing happens. And I gotta admit, I like when nothing happens sometimes. These are the parts of the stories where there is no climax, no rising challenge, no obstacles to overcome. The hero's journey is paused and we can have a moment to breathe with others. The lifestyle can be stressful in so many fucking ways. You have been in a situation where your mind is racing trying to decide for the signals from another couple on whether or not everyone is about to get naked. This causes anxiety. The thought of how do I start this next chapter of the night? Do I start it while someone else started? The variables flying through the air. So much writing on the next word. Where do you place your hand? Where do you look? The story is moving forward at a lightning pace and you are speeding towards something, anything. The Monday moments, they don't carry that weight. They don't do this to us. They simply exist and again, I love that. No shadowing, But you can't make this happen. You can't force it. You can only question your lack or maybe abundance of them and measure where you are on a scale of how much does it matter to you. Maybe you are the kind of person who doesn't care, who doesn't want the mundane. You were just here for the sex and that's all you asked from the lifestyle. I respect it. You know what you want. Despite your best efforts to not want or create this, you already exist in someone else's memory. And that's the wild thing about this. You don't get to pick the moments that live on in someone's The joke you made at a party? Somebody's got to remember that. Somebody remembers you making them laugh. You can avoid these connections if you want, but I promise they're already there. One time, I'll tell you another story. I went and learned base 6 and base 12 math because of a conversation. This was a couple of years ago. There was a couple, a couple of years ago, that we really liked. The wife shared that she had a master's in education, and I am a sucker for education and learning and learning about what what other people know. If someone tells me they have a passion or a hobby or is educated in some topic, sure as shit, when I get home, I'm going to go learn about that. It is one for my own curiosity. And two, the next time I see them, I'm going to have slightly more, I'm going to be slightly more educated about something so I can have a better conversation with them. Me and my wife, me and the other wife, yeah, the lady, talked at this party. And I went home and I learned about new math. of math. Look, I'm not good at math. I admit that. Words. I am way fucking better at words than fancy numbers. But I did go learn about this, and I never spoke to her again. I never got to have the conversation I wanted for reasons. Was it wasted effort? No. I still learned something new, and I still have this happy memory of her. She was smiling as we talked this time, and she had a big bright smile, big blue eyes looking at me, giving me attention for a brief moment in time. And all the universe and all of creation, and time, we shared this little moment together. And I still cherish that memory, even though I never got to impress her with my knowledge of how to count on my fingers with base 12 math. Meh, it was life. Attention. That is important and it is completely off topic, but you're going to run with me. Have you thought about how your attention is valuable? My attention is valuable. Telling another person, giving another person your attention is valuable. Because attention is time defined. Two concepts we as humans describe way too much importance to. Money. Look, you can make more money. You can have more money. You can have no money. Money is temporary though. Time. Time is not. We only have a finite amount of time on this earth. You can't make more time. You can't get it. You can't earn it. Your number is set as soon as you start this game. Attention. Attention is time defined. Attention is looking at another person and saying in a weird woo-woo kind of way that I'm handing you my most limited resource. my time in the form of my attention. You are giving me your attention at this moment, and I realize how precious that is. Out of all the places, events, environments, things you could be doing right now, you are giving me your attention. Your time is focused on my voice right now, and I thank you for it. I will be honest. My attention is limited. I know that. My pissant brain can only track so many things at one time. To stop and focus on one person in one moment is really powerful, and we should appreciate that when it happens. We should appreciate when we have someone's focus, 100% total focus in a moment, be it a conversation or an interaction. That's really valuable. Attention is priming your brain to be ready for something special, be it sexy or spicy or not sexy and spicy. Attention is delineating that this matter, this moment matters, this person matters. Give people your full attention, please. Keep the phone out of your hands, look at them, make eye contact, be present. And if anyone ever whispers that they have your attention, know that you are special. Because out of all of creation, they want to be here in this moment with you. Two moments sticking my brain as I write this. One in the past and one coming up this weekend. Eye contact and a play. I have friends who are really big in a local theater and they're in the cast for a local production of a play this weekend. And they invited us. All of them have invited us separately and collectively to come and see them on stage. And it's not sexy. No one will be getting naked that I know of. I'm pretty sure my happy ass is going to bed as soon as it's done. But my friends want to connect. They want to share this experience with us. They want us there. And that means a lot to me. It is mundane by the measures of the lifestyle. I will admit that. But it matters so much to them and to me. It matters because they want us to be a part of this experience with them. Their desire shows that we are way more to them than just a set of sweaty genitals. Make new memories with your friends, damn it. Do it. We as humans tend to bottle up experiences. We just put them on a shelf all by themselves. Then we reminisce about these events that happened years ago. Like the parties we have thrown. That happened years ago. It was two years ago, I think. It was great. It doesn't mean we can't make new memories, though. We're going on new adventures together. The ocean of our memories can hold a lot. Invite people to come with you. Include people in what you do because you never know when the next mundane moment is going to happen. One final moment that I love because I know the other people do not remember this and they I think I've asked them about them and they don't but it was eye contact the first time that we made that I made eye contact with this particular couple with this particular woman and I think I think I've asked them about this and they don't remember there was a hotel takeover this was a couple years ago and it was prior to the event there was a bar meetup so around 4 p.m. see I remember the time my wife and I show up and the place is packed is standing room only some people had spilled out onto the patio and that's where the fuck I wanted to go. Get me outside. We were walking through the bar and this dude we know called us over and he introduced us to this couple. The husband was standing there wearing a dark green gray shirt, shook my hand, said his name. The wife was sitting in the bar with her back towards me wearing this big oversized jacket. She turned to the stool, she locked eyes with me, shook my hand very daintily and I still remember that look in her eyes. I said my name and I moved on. I was more concerned getting outside than doing proper introductions. And I've asked them about this moment. And what's wild is it's stuck in my head and they don't remember it. It is a hole in their memory. But for me, that's an example of the things that float on the surface, the things that I cherish. Go and do adventures. Go and do fun things. Go meet people because you never know what moments are going to live on in other people's minds and what memories are going to come to you again at 2 a.m. All right, this sounds all fucking great, Jason. You want to go and make new memories? You want to have Monday conversations with people? Yes, let's do it. I have something for you. Pulsify is this weekend, September 25th through the 27th, 2025, in case you're listening to me in the future. Thursday, there's going to be a trip out to Crab Island and a meet-up that night. Friday is a pool party and a beach pool party with a glow party that night. Saturday is another pool party and the party that night is Luau. My wife and I, we are going to be there partying with all of you heathens. I'm going to go as hard as my body will allow me. I think rooms are still available. Don't quote me on that. Go check for yourself. The fun part of making a podcast is by the time I write the script and produce the episode, the information might be fucking out of date. Or you're listening to this in the future. Or you're a time traveler, which if you are, please come and party with us too. I have questions. I will have t-shirts and bracelets for anyone who comes up and says they listen to the show while supplies last. I'm not doing a formal meet and greet, Because my happy ass ain't getting tied down to a table all day. Look, if you see a big, burly, viking-looking dude, it might be me. Or it might be some other big, burly, viking-looking dude. Either way, walk up and say hi and start a conversation. Come meet the tribe. Be fucking legendary for a weekend with us. Make a new fucking memory. I always appreciate hearing your feedback and comments on episodes or suggestions for topics, so feel free to reach out to me at host at thatotherlifestyle.com. My website is thatotherlifestyle.com. My personal disclaimer, I'm not a medical professional nor a trained and certified educator of any kind in any way. I am a guy with a microphone sharing my personal experiences with you. This podcast is for entertainment purposes only. Please join me for the next episode. STI testing is important. It takes a community to make a difference. Go to stdhero.com and use my promo code TOL15 for 15% off your order. Whatever you may do today, I hope you have a fantastic time doing it. Know that you're appreciated and loved. Have a great day.