Some would think the threesome I had this weekend is worth posting about. In some ways it is. Just not the sexy ways. I’m still a bit shaken by the whole experience because it happened with no discussion first. There was a lot of alcohol involved and I possibly underestimated my influence in some circumstances leading up to the event.  The boys thought I had tried to set it up as, like, a thing. I didn’t, even though it played out exactly as most of my menage trois experiences are scripted in my head.  I was just looking to go drinking and have a good time with friends. Seriously.  But I’m a good sport and someone in that room clearly wanted something, so I decided to roll with it.

I personally embrace risk-aware consent without hesitation.  It’s basically a word for the amount of trust I need before getting really comfortably with someone.  The more aware they are (in general) the faster we can get to the fun stuff.  Given my history with these two I wasn’t worried about personal safety or lasting psychological trauma.  I did not account for the repressed emotional trauma that led to the dysfunctional situation.  I forgot that’s why some people get drunk before they have sex.  No judgement.  However, when the night ends with one person running out into the night without half of their clothes…  let’s just say I question some of my decisions overall.

These are the stories I have trouble telling.  They are interesting in the clinical sense.  They are also not my stories.  In this one I was the co-star at best.  In that person’s life, I might just be a featured extra.  I play a role that’s nothing like the real me.  I’m a sexy seduction mastermind that organized a threesome without saying a single word.  Or I’m an evil witch that took advantage of a drunk idiot.  And that’s just crazy.  I’m definitely a GOOD witch.