Something's wrong with my radar.

I can't judge a person's character anymore. Not that I should be judging, but I find myself quickly placing people I meet into one of two groups now. Reserving only a small space in my head for the select few I deem normal, which—in my defense—is actually defined broadly. It's a quick trip however, if someone's even slightly leaning towards one of the other two buckets in my head.

(The overlap between Religious Radicals and Swingers is by design. Open your eyes. It happens.)

This all started about six years ago...

Our new neighborhood in Utah.

As I've mentioned before, we love living in Utah. When we first moved here though, we went through some adjustment and subtle culture-shock. For about six months we felt the desire of some to convert us. We expected and even understood prosletyzing to a degree, but after awhile it got old. Things are better now, and it's important for me to say that my Mormon friends are NOT trying to convert us. (At least I don't think so. Maybe they're just really good at it.)

We also had some experiences with Jehovah's Witnesses and Evangelical Christians where views were radically off center. It seemed we were running into more and more people with extreme opinions.

Our first night out in Utah.

It took us about a year to settle in and find a sitter that could manage Oldest Boy's diabetes (he was five).  Chris and I went out to dinner. We ate and drank slowly, but found ourselves finished before 8:00 PM.

On our way home, I suggested we stop at a club and dance, something we hadn't done in a long time. I told Chris we'd probably be the oldest ones there, but who cares. He agreed, so we randomly picked a place.

When we walked in, things were different. 

The band wasn't playing yet. We decided to grab a table, wait, and dance as soon as the music started, then we'd head home.

The place was big and set up like a banquet hall with folding tables and chairs. Maybe this is a Utah thing,  I thought. Not many people, and the ones that were there weren't that young . . . and they looked like Midwest, bowling alley people. Hmm.

We sat close to the bar at the first table in a row of about ten. People began arriving—more bowling alley people—and gathered at the tables in our row. They carried gift bags, and were happy to see each other. It looked like a large group celebrating someone's birthday. A few people said hi to us—we asked if we were invading their space. Nooooooooo, they said with BIG smiles.

The band was finally getting ready to play. We were feeling . . . different. Something wasn't right. 

A woman with the large group was wearing a gold lame top. She came over to our table and sat very close to me. The woman made small talk then asked, "Are you here with AFF?"

I told her no, that we just drove by and wanted to grab a dance before heading home. "We're new to Utah", I virginally offered. I figured AFF must have something to do with Agriculture or Farmers.

She left our table. Chris said, "Follow me. We're leaving."

As we walked across the dance floor, dozens of couples staring at us longingly, it clicked that those people were swingers and we were being checked out and hit upon. I felt violated. AFF stands for Adult Friend Finder. I researched when we got home, and I'm not including links, so google away if you're interested. If you're a member, please keep it private. I don't need to know.

The Problem.

I feel like I have Post Traumatic Religious-Radical/Swinger Syndrome. When we meet new people I'm hyper-suspicious now. I'll say, "I think she was hitting on us. I bet they're swingers." Or, "He was churchy. Did they seem too churchy to you?" 

Last Night.

Chris called me on his way home from Oldest Boy's basketball practice. 

Me:  "Did you talk to anyone?"

Chris:  "Yeah, but it was hard. It was super noisy."

Me:  "Were the 'So-N-So's' there?"

Chris: "No. I didn't see them."

Me: "I think they're swingers anyway."

Chris:  "You've gotta quit that."