It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 2)

15 Apr


In my last post I started to write about a season in my life I described as the most reckless and hedonistic of my life. It was also the truest I had been to myself until that point. It was all about me, my ego and my dick. Nothing else mattered. In Part 1 I rambled on in attempt to give a proper prequel to the story I wanted to share. I was at pains to try and explain the process and purpose of writing and sharing that part of my life. That phase of my life is one in which I began to peel away the layers from idealised self and uncovered the unfiltered, raw and real self. In many ways I became the antithesis of the good conservative catholic boy I had been raised as. I don’t know if it was a conscious rebellion but I do know I revealed myself to myself. I played by my own rules. The real me stood up. I am rambling again…
If you missed the first part you can read it here

It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 1)

Now that you are all caught up, let’s continue …

There I was laying on my back her sobs drifting slowing off into the night. This wasn’t part of the script. This was a breach of protocol. I feel blindsided and am trying to gather my thoughts. Despite having an intimate knowledge of each other’s bodies we had until this moment managed to stay strangers emotionally. It was just sex. Great sex. Fulfilling sex. And for months now it had been the perfect arrangement. Anytime either of us got ‘thirsty”, depending on availability we happily indulged each other. We hardly ever texted and when we did their were either sexts or “Are you home” texts at 1am. But here we were. Even in conventional relationships in which emotions were shared , nurtured and encouraged I always felt out of my depth whenever tears were shed. I now had to deal with them now. This was going to be awkward.

“I can’t do this anymore Taf…” What do you mean” I replied pensively. “ This … we can’t keep doing this, it’s not right. It’s not healthy. I want more than this. I need more. I know what we agreed on going in but things have changed. I want more than just sex. This is not me. I can’t be living like this. It has been fun, exhilarating and convenient for the most part but things have changed for me. I want more. I need more than this. I know you can’t give me that and I don’t know why and I know I shouldn’t but that makes me sad. When we started out you were in this dark place. You were so emotionally detached from anything and everyone. You didn’t care about anyone, not even yourself. But yet I found myself intrigued by you. I liked who you were as a person and I knew I didn’t have to worry about either of us catching feelings because I was in the same place as you. The last thing I expected was that I would be the one catching feelings. Deep down I guess I also hoped that when you eventually got an emotionally healthier place or wanted something more I would be a consideration. You would at least consider me. It was naive of me. What happened last weekend dispelled that notion for me. I see the way you look at her. The way you are with her. You have never looked at me like that. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I can’t do this anymore. “

After the events of the last weekend I had been half expecting to have this conversation at some stage. I just hadn’t imagined it under these circumstances. We hadn’t been in touch since though and now here I was having this conversation post coitus in the backyard. I was still at a loss as how I got here and judging from the sudden turn of events I might never find out. There is an awkward silence for what feels like forever. The tears have stopped. I struggle to come up with anything meaningful to say and I mumble under my breath, “Ok if that’s what you want I will respect that.” And with that eyes displayed indifference. She got up, put her shorts back and left me laying there still coming to terms with what had just happened.

The Weekend Before …

A ménage trios. A threesome. One guy, two girls. Every man’s fantasy. Myself included.

A fantasy most of us never get to live out. As much it was a fantasy of mine I had never seriously thought about actually living it out. I didn’t know if I had the skills, charm or tact to convince two women to sleep with me at the same time. It was a hard enough challenge getting one woman into my bed on most days, let alone two. But I was looking at it all wrong. Approaching it as a primarily a male fantasy. I did not consider that it could also be a female fantasy, that two women could actually collude to have a threesome with a guy without being prompted. I never imagined that if that were to ever happen I would be that guy. That I would be a pawn in someone else’s fantasy and ego trip. In hindsight I guess that is the only way it could have possibly happened for me. That is what had happened over the previous weekend. I had unexpectedly found myself having a threesome with my f**k buddie and another girl who I had been interested in romantically. The very same girl who would could on to be a long term girlfriend. I couldn’t make this shit up even if I tried.



1 Comment

Posted by on April 15, 2014 in Writing My Wrongs


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One response to “It Takes Three To Tangle, And Just Two To Tango (Part 2)

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