The Time I Ruined My Chance at a Threesome

threesome

This weekend marks my fifth wedding anniversary and that fact is still surreal to me.

While I struggle to believe that I really have been married for five years and have a daughter and a house with a big fat mortgage, the biggest shock to me is that I found someone that wanted to marry me (and stay married to me).

The 15 year-old version of me would never have imagined this. Back then, I had a big fat mortgage in the friend zone, desperate for an opportunity to kiss just one of the many, many pretty girls that I liked (sex was nothing more than far-fetched fantasy of mine, like playing in the NBA or being featured on a Wu-Tang song). I was constantly worried that the freckles that covered my arms or my giant ears or my awkward, lanky frame would drive females away for years to come. I figured that one day I would have some success with women, but when you’re a teenager being patient is one of the hardest things to do. Although girls mature faster than boys and they eventually want to marry a man that’s smart and funny, when they’re in high school, most of them like the short, cute kid that looks like he could’ve been in a cereal commercial.

That was not me.

Upon entering college, I was determined to wipe the slate clean. While I would not completely reinvent myself, I would no longer be timid or passive. This worked…for about a week. Slowly, though, I was able to find my voice. Finally being around girls (women) with whom I had not grown up and known since childhood was also a nice change, particularly in light of the ups and downs of my high school existence.

It didn’t happen immediately. I had some opportunities as a freshman, but they mostly involved making out and heavy petting, and as a sophomore, I was in a relationship with a gorgeous girl with whom I was enamored and I truly thought we were going to last for a long time.

So by the time junior year rolled around, I felt like my time had come. I had finally had a long relationship (including sex!) and I was once again single, now with an apartment rather than simply a dorm room. One night early in the school year, my roommate and I found ourselves back in our living room with two girls that I knew. The brunette and I were on one couch while my roommate and the girl with dirty-blonde hair were on the other one. We were having drinks, talking, and having a good time when, out of nowhere, my roommate stands up and announces he’s going to bed. The other three of us were stunned. He had an internship with Johnson & Johnson at the time and he really did have to wake up early the next morning, but it was still surprising. Maybe he was hoping that the girl with whom he had been canoodling (love that word) would follow him, but she didn’t. I think she was the most dumbstruck of all.

After a few minutes, my companion suggested to her friend that she come sit with us. The next thing I knew, I was lounging on my couch with a girl under each arm. I’ve heard plenty of people say that a threesome isn’t that great, but for a dumb, often drunk 20-year-old college student that shunned adulthood and spent most of his evenings in a onesome, it was the holy grail.

There was a vibe in the air. I’m terrible at picking up signals and I’m not smooth at all, but I could tell that this was going to happen. It was obvious. This was amazing. The three of us were talking and laughing and snuggling and getting ever closer. Then there was a pause and, because I have a chronic case of Foot-in-Mouth Disease, I said something awkwardly banal and corny, which I believe was, “So…[exaggerated sigh]…what should we do now?

Seriously. I really said that.

Needless to say, that killed it. In an instant, everything – the mood, the flirting, the possibilities – was reduced to a steaming pile of rubble. My sex life was Hiroshima and my words were the atom bomb.

One of them said, “We should go,” and the other quickly agreed.

They lived on the other side of campus, so each wanted to use the bathroom before leaving so, in a weird epilogue moment, I actually made out with each girl while the other was peeing. Isn’t that indicative of something? Despite my best efforts, they left and walked back to their room, trading notes the entire time. For me, 1 + 1 + 1 ≠ 3. Closer to -1.

I saw both of them around for the next two years – people don’t just vanish after something awkward happens between you – but that was the last time I hung out with them and it remains the closest I ever came to a threesome.


Christopher Pierznik is the author of eight books, including the brand new In Defense Of…, all of which can be purchased in paperback and Kindle. His work has appeared on XXL, Cuepoint, Business Insider, The Cauldron, and many more. He has been quoted on Buzzfeed and Deadspin. Subscribe to his monthly reading review newsletter or follow him on Facebook or Twitter.

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3 thoughts on “The Time I Ruined My Chance at a Threesome

  1. Pingback: Week in Review (October 9, 2015) | The Passion of Christopher Pierznik

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