There are certain things a middle-aged man in NYC is expected to do after a divorce, and I did every last one of them.

I dated eagerly, profligately — I learned everything there was to know about the apps, and I attacked them hungrily. And I dabbled in the sex party scene New York is famous for — talk about an eye-opener.

To put it bluntly — I was a manwhore.

But what this city gets up to, I have since learned, is nothing compared to what goes down at Naughty N’Awlinstouted as the biggest and best swingers gathering of its kind in the world, taking place in — you guessed it — New Orleans.

Held in three hotels at the heart of the Big Easy, Naughty N’Awlins is billed as an annual “alternative lifestyle convention”.

Those brave enough to sign up for five days and four nights of play this year got to meet and mingle with more than 3,000 swingers, polyamorists, nudists, exhibitionists, voyeurs, fetishists, and BDSM fans. And me.

Attendees could expect to see wife-swapping, threesomes, foursomes and moresomes. I did – and then some.

Co-founder Bob Hannaford called 2026’s convention the “largest Lifestyle event ever.” Of those thousands of participants, the average ages were between 35 and 60, staying in more than 1,400 rooms near bawdy Bourbon Street.

This kind of party isn’t cheap — not including travel expenses, couples pay $850 each for the five days, four nights. That fee allows access to all Naughty N’Awlins happenings — daily classes (although some cost additional), socials, workshops, galas and, of course, lots of scheduled playtime.

There was sex. Lots of sex. There were topless pool parties at one hotel and nude pool parties at another. There were hot-wife scenes, people subjecting themselves to erotic flogging.

Getting into the swing of things took some doing.

At one point, my viewing of a World Cup match at a bar-side pool — because yes, real life was still happening, and no I didn’t want to miss a game — was interrupted by a topless woman arriving beside me, a woman whose naked bosoms I couldn’t help but eyeball.

She noticed, then smiled. Reflexively, I apologized.

“I’m sorry. I looked at your breasts,” I said.

She cupped each of her appendages, alternately bouncing them up and down for my viewing pleasure.

“I would hope so,” she laughed.

Naughty N’Awlins started small and was the brainchild of Hannaford and Tess Tucker, former spouses and current business partners.  The pair were active participants in New York City’s sex-party scene in the ‘90s. After relocating to New Orleans later that decade, they began hosting their own sexy soirees.

“We were up to about 175 people when Tess said, ‘Bob, this is too many people in our house’,” Hannaford says.

The next year they relocated their carnal cabal to a French Quarter restaurant and the hotel takeovers began after that. A quarter of a century later, the flesh fest all but takes over the historic neighborhood.

And while the convention is definitely about getting it on, that’s not what keeps it growing, Hannaford explained.

“People come here for the sex, but they come back for the friendships. In fact, participant surveys of regular attendees show only 50% have sex with anyone but their partners,” he told The Post.

My in-depth survey of the weekend’s activities backed up his claim. Much of what I observed was heavy flirting and provocative outfits being worn in hotel lobbies and corridors. Nudity is barred everywhere except the playrooms and certain pools.

Over and over again, I saw what must have been old friends waving each other down, offering warm hugs and small kisses to the people they’d laughed with or loved before.

Disagreements seemed to be rare — people didn’t come here to talk politics or climate change.

Tom, a fifty-something lawyer from West Texas, told me that he never expected to attend a “swingers’ convention.”  He always thought those erotic adventurers were “lecherous, freaky, weird people.”

But three years ago on a visit to the Crescent City to enjoy fine dining and live jazz, Tom and his date Barb saw a group wearing Naughty N’Awlins lanyards — having “the best time.”

“We talked to them and they were the nicest people, non-judgmental, warm and very accepting,” Tom said.

The next year he and Barb bought day passes and have since become regular attendees.

While they don’t participate in all the sex, the two do enjoy the dressing up, Bourbon Street bar crawls, nude pool parties and flirting.  Barb is an exhibitionist — Tom likes to watch.

Part of the success of the event is that it isn’t necessarily a free-for-all — attendees can’t buy tickets without passing a consent quiz, for example.

Any consent violations can be reported through a ubiquitously posted QR code — where there will be consequences for those who break the rules. Signs are everywhere, explaining exactly what behavior is or isn’t acceptable within the playrooms and dungeon.

Oh, right – the dungeon.

A popular spot at any Naughty N’Awlins, it’s a massive, high-ceilinged hotel conference room decorated to look like the dark inside of a medieval cathedral.

Spread throughout the pop-up chamber of secrets, one finds numerous St. Andrew’s Crosses, spanking horses, whipping benches, and milking tables, all much used by happy conventioneers.

This year’s vault of vice also included a homemade “spider web” of chains gung-ho participants allowed themselves to be strapped upon.

In other meeting rooms, things were slightly less themed — conference tables and chairs were hauled out; beds and mattresses dragged in.

The resultant play spaces included, among others, the “group room,” for those who enjoy sex en masse; the “exhibitionist and voyeur room”, for those who like to watch or be watched; and the “hot-wife room,” where wives engaged in the horizontal mambo with other men in front of their happy hubbies.

There was a “dark room”, too, which had no windows, no lights, and black-out curtains covering the doors — an option only for those adventurous enough to enter a sex scene without being able to see a thing.

I thought I was pretty daring – but upon creeping into the room and stumbling upon some things I didn’t expect nor enjoy, I immediately did a U-turn and fled the scene, never to return.

As you might expect at an event like this, keeping after the hordes of frolicking fornicators to ensure the shared spaces stay clean is a considerable task. And there are volunteers aplenty to help with this.

Whenever one groping group got off a bed, the volunteers swooped in and yanked the used sheet off the mattress like a magician pulling a tablecloth from under the dishes.

Then they Swiffer wet-jetted — yes, they Swiffered! — the plastic mattress cover and unfurled a new sheet atop it. Not exactly sexy, unless you have a maid’s fetish, maybe. Nobody seemed to mind.

Five days and four nights may seem like a long time for such an event — how much sex can one have, right?

But the time flew by. In the end, there wasn’t enough time to do everything I wanted to try.

There was “bare-as-you-dare” yoga — which started each day on a wellness-oriented note. There was necklace making, with specific beads and pendants to signify one’s erotic interests — among other messages, pineapples meant you were a swinger and a blue bead a polyamorist, while a green one meant “full speed ahead.”

Afterwards, conference guests would begin lining up for IV infusions – those trendy treatments meant to cure hangovers, or in this case, enhance sexual performance.

For lusty guests, there were mix-and-mingles, there was couples speed dating to help break the ice – there was even nude speed dating, too.

I attended the event solo, but was given special dispensation by Kat and Leo (hosts of the wildly successful “Vanilla Swingers” podcast) to join their (non-nude) speed dating event.

Confessing your favorite sexual position to a line of random strangers, and having them return the favor, definitely puts people on the fast track to friendship and connection, that’s for sure.

Naughty N’Awlins also offered daily classes about navigating life “in the Lifestyle” — or learning the nuts and bolts of good sex.  Whether your choice was “The Foundations of Rope Bondage”; or “Hands-On Flogger Training”; all aimed to help conventioneers get better in bed.

Sadly, I slept through a scheduled “Nipplegasm” class.

Sixty-something, Orange County, NY native Ari reported being thrilled with the educational seminar “Stroke Him Senseless: Master the Art of Lingam Massage.”

Asked if the class was worth his time, Ari nodded at his two dates.

“Both were there. That class was the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said.

If you didn’t like the sex rooms or the pool scenes, attendees also had their choice of French Quarter bars. The event takes over a series of venues, leading to enthusiastic karaoke show-downs, wild foam parties, and sexy amateur strip shows.

On Friday night, the world’s only known (or at least, fully permitted) Sexual Freedom Parade marched noisily down Bourbon Street.

Every night, magnificent fêtes began at 9 p.m. (two hours before the playrooms opened for the second time each day at 11 p.m.), erotic-themed parties held in the grand ballroom with live bands and laser shows, with conventioneers dressing themselves in every manner of colorful, risque, and creative costumes.

Wednesday was “Bordello Night”; Thursday an Alice in Wonderland-inspired “Through the Looking Glass”; Friday a “Neon Glow” party; and Saturday a “Mardi Gras Masquerade,” each soiree more decadent than the last.

Friends were easily made at those galas. At the “Neon Glow” party, a cheerful African-American woman from California checked out my white, crushed velvet disco pants and asked if she could feel them.

“I’ll allow it,” I joked, as she proceeded to feel my ass.

As she danced in front of me later, twerking away, she backed in my direction, ever closer to my own shimmying hips. An inch from me, she turned and made clear she wanted to grind her way in.

“Do you mind?”

I did not.

Her flirtation and my receptiveness didn’t go much farther – but we had a great time together, and left the convention as friends.

That’s the norm, Canadians Martin and Nancy told me. They’ve driven all the way down here more than ten times to attend Naughty N’Awlins.

“We love to meet people and make really bonded friendships, which often leads to sex,” Nancy said. “Then we’re so excited to see them again the next year.”

I know what she means. Next year is already on my calendar.