Non-Exclusive Is the New Exclusive

I met Orla on an online dating site.  She's an elementary teacher at a local charter school and enjoys golfing.  I take her out to coffee.

Once we're seated, I ask, "So Orla, have you always been from the area?"

She shakes her head.  "No.  I'm from Maine.  I followed a boyfriend here about three years ago.  I found my job and then we split up."

"Now that your relationship is over, do you still like being here?"

"It's okay, I guess.  Just like anywhere else.  And I still get regular sex."

I sputter as if someone had poured pepper into my coffee.  "What?"

"I still live with my boyfriend.  Ex-boyfriend.  And we still have sex."  She smiles, as if fondly recalling the sex that she frequently has.

"Hmmm.  I–"

"Mind-blowing sex."

I sit back, trying to find a mental machete to slash through this unexpectedly dead-end road.  I say, "So... you're... hmm... are you actually looking for another relationship right now, then?"

She nods as if explaining something for the fifteenth time to a developmentally disabled child.  "Yes I am.  Roger and I are totally incompatible as a relationship, but we're still friends."

"I see."

"Friends who have incredible sex."

"So I hear.  Listen, Orla... you seem very sweet, but I don't think I could involve myself in this situation.  I'm not a fan of baggage or strings or–"

"What's the problem?  I can still date around and have sex with whoever I want.  If I find something that I want to have turn exclusive, then whoever it is will have to understand that I'll still be sleeping with Roger every now and then."

I stare at her.  "So by exclusive, you mean–"

"It's my body.  I can do what I want with it, right?"

"Uh..."

"Right?"

I drink down the rest of my coffee.  "Right.  Including never having it touched by another guy, because of your messed-up relationship with Roger."

We're silent for several moments.  She blurts, "Are you like, from the Victorian era or something?"

I say, "No, but you're definitely a strumpet."