Dear Mrs. Polyamory, you appear as a kind of a hero in your husband's writings, a sexual adventuress, and the model for Bonnie Campbell. As a 73-year old man, I find myself craving a broader sexual experience, partly stimulated by your household's philosophy and exploits. Looking back as far as I can remember, that craving's been there, but I'm more keenly aware of it now. I'm trying to simultaneously let go of that desire and to figure out how to satisfy my itch. (You can't have it both ways, but I'm trying. Call me Schrodinger's Chicken.)
My question for you is "Are you an outlier, or am I being obtuse?" My wife of 43 years is not sexually adventurous. (Enough said about that: privilege of the bedroom. Believe me that I speak from deep affection and understanding.) My fairly broad female acquaintance, though generally "sex positive", seem as though they would consider a pass from me as out of line. They are mostly educated, within ten years of my age, some queer, all politically liberal, and tolerant of other people's—at least—romances and lusts. Sheila even came to terms with her son's setting up housekeeping with a married woman and man.
I'm in Minneapolis, so maybe it's a regional thing. Maybe it's because the women I meet are feminists: I support anybody's struggle for agency and self actualization, but enough men are rats that the open-loving style in the Campbell household could easily be interpreted as being on the same spectrum as sexual harassment. I would not want to become unwelcome at the places where I meet women, two life drawing co-ops and a kitchen where I chop carrots and marinate tilapia for sick people.
Anyway, your behavior is that of an outlier. Do you think you are one inside as well?