Diary of a Threesome

By Darrel Moore
The threesome – also known as a three-way, ménage a trios, a gaysome [adjust number of partners to taste] a trilogy [no… wait that’s Star Wars], a trio, and a triple-decker sandwich. We all know them, we’ve all had them, and to be quite honest, we all love them. Don’t we?

It seems we’ve stumbled upon a secret relationship bandage, a magic patch to heal the bruises and blur the cracks of any ailing couple. Feeling bored and tired with your man? Not feeling the zing you used to? Invite a guest star to play and watch your troubles fade away. Well that’s what I thought would happen. Turns out things weren’t quite as simple as that.

Apparently monogamy is dead. To even say the word is enough for the judging eyes of peers to glare at you as though you’d just killed and ate a small child in front of them. Monogamy is not hip. Monogamy is not trendy. In fact it seems so far away from where people are right now that it could almost be labelled a fad of the 90s, like denim jackets or Furbies. So when it came to even bringing up the subject with my boyfriend…well I didn’t, and neither did he. It was an unspoken subject that both of us were afraid to mention.

Where it was once the case that one-on-one was the default setting of most relationships, more recently the ground rules have to be established beforehand, like haggling at your local flea market to get the best deal. Couples need to know what’s classed as monogamy, what’s not, and with whom [or what].

For some, it’s not cheating if you don’t know your quickie’s last name, or it’s in a different country, or no fluids are exchanged, or if the moon’s waxing on the third night of June at 7pm and the wind is blowing from the east. There can be endless conditions, rules and prerequisites that will get you through the whole ‘monogamy’ thing, giving you enough freedom to not feel guilty about going down on Fernando, the hot pool-boy while in Mexico. For some, like my boyfriend and I, it was the threesome.

Our six month mile stone was fast approaching and I, great bf I am, had planned dinner and a night in. That was until a friend of mine casually suggested that I make it a ‘special one’ and bring in a third to mix-up our proverbial cocktail. I’d never thought of it up until that point. My boyfriend and I were getting on great, we had loads in common, the sex was mind-blowing and I didn’t even think about other guys. Threesome? There was no need – which was exactly my reply.

But then, as I smiled hard at my doubtful looking friend, I couldn’t help but wonder. Was there a need? Did my boyfriend think about other guys? Were we beginning to get stale already and in need of another slice of bread in our butty to stop him going elsewhere for a…sandwich? Inadvertently my friend had awakened a powerful beast within me – my insecurity.

For the next few weeks I studied my boyfriend’s actions as intently as I do my Robert Pattinson calendar every morning. When we were out and about I watched for him checking other guys in the street. When he was in the shower I secretly scanned his phone for illicit texts and searched his laptop for porn. I scrutinized over every aspect of his life, from who he spoke to at work to whether he picked movies with extra sexyified hotties in.

I was fast becoming one of those boyfriends – and I didn’t like it at all. All I wanted was to find any scrap or hint that he was getting bored with us so I could pull out my trump card. But I found nothing concrete, so I let myself relax a little, convinced that we were fine and it was all in my overly imaginative head. We didn’t need a threesome. He was happy with me and I with him; tea for two and two for tea. But our exclusive tea party didn’t last for long.

As we sat in a café for lunch, a mutual friend who we bumped into from time to time walked in. He’s the kind of guy you can never pin down; never had a boyfriend, and never wanted one. He spends all his free time at the gym and every time you see him you want to run your hand over his washboard abs the same way you would stroke a puppy in the street. He did what he wanted, with who he wanted, and that was all good for him. He gave us a quick wave after picking up his order and was about to leave, but my boyfriend invited him over to sit with us.

Suddenly my insecurities flared again. I couldn’t help but feel there was some chemistry going on between them and all I could think was that that my boyfriend wanted to have sex with this guy; the eye contact, the overly friendly smiles, the touching each other suggestively on the shoulder. I was convinced, and I immediately made up my mind right there and then. To keep my relationship from sinking I would have to ask this dashing fellow into our bed. So that’s what I did, and in the most personal way possible – I sent him a text. To my surprise and utter embarrassment my invitation was accepted with an enthusiastic ‘4 sure : ))’.
The night in question soon arrived and I could just about control my nerves through dinner. I hardly ate a thing of the expensive meal I was paying for and couldn’t muster up much conversation either.

Later, when we arrived back at his place, there came the knock I’d been waiting for all night; half with apprehension, half with nervous excitement. Our mutual friend had popped over on the ‘off chance’ we were in. He’d also brought with him a big and convenient bottle of vodka.

The shot glasses came out and our underwear came off – simple as that. Our mutual friend had fun. I had fun. And my boyfriend had fun – which was the entire point of the evening. So when it was just us two again the next morning, I congratulated myself on being savvy enough to recognise the early signs of stagnation and for single-handedly saving our relationship. Now I’d set the bar, we could possibly experiment in other ways. The only problem was my boyfriend apparently thought that I had little too much fun that night. It seemed I’d inadvertently woken a powerful beast within him – jealousy.

He became distant and from then on regularly accused me of sleeping with our threesome buddy behind his back, which I wasn’t of course, but there was nothing that I could say to convince him. The green-eyed monster had taken over and he was as sure of this as I was sure that we needed a threesome to begin with. Evidently we were both wrong. Eventually things finished between us after I found him in bed with another guy. He defended that it was only because he thought I was sleeping around and he wanted to get back at me.

When you’ve got insanely hawt guys running around the place and everyone screaming at you that gay men can’t commit, it’s hard to not feel insecure when you’re doing the one-on-one thing.

I’d been so convinced that we needed a threesome to save our relationship but the fact was we didn’t need one at all. Maybe if we’d set the ground rules, talked out the conditions to find out what we both wanted we might still be together now. One thing’s for sure, next time I take part in a ménage a trios, I’m the one who’s going to be the guest star.