Men, Riddle Me: When did you all get so weird — and sassy — on dates? Seriously.
I made this discovery last Thursday night after foolishly dating an ex – one who has always been a bit red. (God, I have bad taste!)
We had tried to work things out in the past, but he was fresh out of a divorce and well into his sad, angry, bitter phase. Anyone who has dated a man after marriage knows this stage well: we suddenly become their sounding boards, therapists, and punching bags as they unpack the trauma of their ex daring to leave them.
A weekend away, after hours of Why Do You Think She Left Me? chatter, I had had enough. What was supposed to be a romantic getaway became a therapy marathon. Instead of bare bones, we’re breaking up his marriage.
In the end, I felt like I knew his ex-wife better than some of her friends.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t mean to.
Fast forward to last week. He sent vague messages, saying he was in town on business and staying in the penthouse of a fancy hotel.
Now, in the spirit of owning up to my mistakes, I will admit that this was on me. I had had a few martinis with friends and thought, “A mess in a penthouse? Yes, please!”
So I hailed a cab and headed off.
We met for drinks, then upstairs to “christen” his beautiful accommodations. So far, so good.
But then came the twist: as I lay on his chest, enjoying a happy post-cohabitation conversation, he received a call from another woman.
She announced cheerfully, “I’m free now if you like company.”
And just like that, he invited her – no heads up to me, no consent from her, just pure courage.
“What the hell?” I said. (OK, it was more colorful than that.)
He smiled and replied, “What? I thought the three of us could have a little fun!”
Another spoiler alert: I wasn’t on board. I doubt she was, either.
To be fair, if this was something we’d done before, I’d probably understand. But we didn’t have it.
Our past consisted of very mild, missionary-based meetings. Snoring.
So I did what any self-respecting woman would do: I jumped out of bed, let out a bunch of swear words, and walked out.
Two days later, he called. Still fuming, I hung up and sent a one-word text, “No.”
His response? “Can we talk? I think there was a misunderstanding.”
No misunderstanding, mate.
You thought you could sneak in a threesome, and shock, horror, I didn’t tear my clothes in anticipation. What annoyed me most was that he did not reveal his daring plan until after we had done the deed.
So, I decided it was time for some boundaries. My parting shot? “You have this weird way of making me feel worthless after every interaction with you—and it’s not my job to make you feel better about it. Run, d–k.”
He replied: “You can swear at me on the phone if you want, but I just want to talk.”
Reader, I blocked and deleted it. Enough was enough.
The other night, over dinner with my girlfriends, I told them about the threesome attempt. For my friend, they had similar stories.
Apparently, this “trend” is more common than I thought.
A friend recalled meeting a guy who invited him to his farm for a weekend getaway. She arrived to find his best friend there, but thought, “Oh, well, the more the merrier.”
After dinner, her son suggested a hot tub. Finally, she thought – until his best friend started rubbing her legs and her son started massaging her leg. That’s when it hit him: they had been planning this all along.
She made her excuses and left the next morning.
Another friend told me about a wrong hookup in a night club. In the middle of the party, the guy casually suggested they go away – and why not bring her best friend for a “sleepover”? Class.
It got me thinking: Are men watching too much porn and confusing its scenarios with real life?
Let’s be honest, porn has a way of presenting things like surprise threesomes as easy, spontaneous, and seemingly the default setting for a fun night. But here’s the thing: real life isn’t a labeled browser tab “Hot MILFs Surprise Babysitter.”
In real life, a threesome is not a “Why not?” moment It’s a conversation – a proper discussion where everyone agrees, sets boundaries and is equal.
It’s planned, not ambushed.
Porn can make it seem like the pizza guy shows up, everyone is instantly seated, and boom—it’s on. But gentlemen, newsflash: the rest of us didn’t get that meme.
For most women, jumping from cuddling to a Ménage à trois without so much as a heads up isn’t sexy—it’s awkward, presumptuous, and borderline offensive.
Will I have a threesome at some stage in my life? Maybe.
But not with a man who thinks I’m a supporter in his fantasy without bothering to ask.
So here are some tips: When it comes to threesomes—or any sexual escapade—planning is sex. Clear communication is sex. Respect is sex.
Was I expecting a surprise? Not so much.
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