The hot second you indicate to a dude that you think threesomes are sexy and might, in the absolute RIGHTEST of right circumstances, be open to maybe sort of VAGUELY considering having one or something like one, they will never, ever shut up about it.
I’m busy trying to fix my face into an expression that could read as either horny or wary, because if he likes it, I don’t want to make him feel gross about it, and if he doesn’t, I don’t want him to think I’m into it, god, no.
It is not until you find your vulva’s second-favorite buddy in a shared space, where you blatantly DID NOT LEAVE IT that you realize life hasn’t prepared you for such a moment.
The Crazy Town stuff is difficult to explain to my boyfriend. He’s sympathetic, for sure, but as far as I can ascertain, his biggest life tragedy thus far was wearing a palate expander in the fourth grade.
The big sister I always wanted? Supplied by an ex. Fourth of July barbeques, sporting events, family beach trips? Check, check, and check. Buying the FAMILY-SIZED bag of Tostitos on a supermarket run -- well, you just can’t understand how exciting that is to an only child.