R- rated post two

I'm still digesting that email from last night. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that I'm trying to use words to exorcise it.

First of all, there's a eewww factor. I've never met this guy. Last year we shared a few emails and ultimately decided not to meet, because he was worried I'd expose him in my blog or say something that would point back to him -- I think he fancies himself a bit of a media personality.
But to suggest I have sex with him and some random female suggests a disconnect between his world and mine that is so profound as to be amazing.

This isn't about alternate lifestyles. I know swingers. I've interviewed people who have mulitple partners and, believe it or not, seem like rather humble, normal folks. I found the time I've spent talking with them intriguing -- but not enough to have any desire to jump.

If he was serious, he didn't start out too well...given that perhaps the only reason I'd have threesoome would be to write about it. OK, that makes me a different kind of a promiscuous woman, I know. But even the thought of a Salon column, naming names, doesn't tempt me.

And talk about a double-edged sentence...very appealing...but a writer. At that point I'm biting my lips and thinking ...that's some way to lure an unknown female into your bed, eh -- by insulting her.

The only thing I can figure out is that he's rich, has yes men and women around him, and thinks that the ordinary rules don't apply -- though I've got affluent friends, and they would never presume to invite a stranger into a menage a trois. We've had lots of evidence this past week, that the wealthy, many of the wealthy, are not like us.

His appalling behavior is enough to give me sympathy for the French and their Revolution -- almost.