Skittish … this isn’t a huge problem. What’s the worst that could happen? Maybe you end up in a gimp suit with a ball gag in some redneck gun store basement? OK, I’ll admit that’s a pretty ugly scene, but what if it was something less dramatic? What if you have dinner at their place and after a few bottles of expensive wine you end up doing a seductive pole dance in their boom-boom room? What’s the harm in that – well, other than having the video posted on Facebook? For all I know, you might be an awesome pole dancer and get like a million hits or something anyway. Point is, you might all end up in a huge, greasy, writhing fuckball someday, but right now you don’t know and there’s no sense giving it any thought until they actually pop the question. You’re just stressing over something that doesn’t even exist – like God or mathematics. I can tell you one thing: You dropping coy hints that you’re not a bottom or that your wife’s not into rug munching is only going to further titillate your friends if they are swingers, and make you look silly if they’re not. My suggestion to you is to enjoy their company – which you clearly do - and not worry about whether they have a dungeon with a spin fuck harness, a grease gun, and a hamster habitat. It’s really none of your business anyway – well, at least until they ask you to pick out a hamster.