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I can't think of a scene where I would feel more out of place than a swingers' club. I've always imagined these dark orifices with potbellied year-olds doing coke and lots of people wearing annoying hats. But I've also felt equally intrigued by it. I wanted to know what happens inside those dingy walls, where failing marriages gasp for air and people try to reclaim their sense of sexual adventure.
I decided to go this Valentine's Day, and went on Tinder to try to find some company to help curb the weirdness. In the spirit of polyamory, I set out to find two dates who would be down with the whole situation and go with me.
But before any of that, I had to make sure the club I chose was safe and not some kind of nightmarish rape dungeon. According to a few message boards, the least sketchy swingers' club in Montreal is a place called L'Orage. L'Orage literally translates to "Storm" and didn't seem that rapey, the front page featured a photograph of some guy happily biting a girl's butt by a couch. Innocent enough, right? This year's Valentine's Day theme roughly translated to "Chocolate and Titties Night," and featured couples and single women only.
Finding two girls who would be into me, into each other, and into a club where strangers bork each other under blacklights was a daunting task.
After having no success, I ran into one of my old Tinder matches, Rose, at a bar and explained my predicament. Two days left and halfway there, I met up with Marika, an artist who had just arrived in Montreal and had a general "fuck you" attitude about her.