The Failed Menage a Trois

“Don’t guilt trip me, now…” I say to her.  I’m staring at her long neck and letting my eyes wander down her smooth black body.  I look over at him.  He’s an asshole too.

He stands next to her, tall and rigid with his polished & perfect stance.  He’s ready for action.

I tap my foot in silent indecision while two eager faces stare at me.

I seriously think about going for it…. but I decide I’m being too obsessive with this whole thing lately.

“No!  I’m about to get cramps and I want to read tonight.”

Silence.

I pick up my kindle and hold it up.

“William Faulkner.  I’ve never read him.  That’s my new thing I’m trying.  Seriously, it’s okay to just read some nights.  You guys are too much.  Insatiable, really.”

Silence.

I want them to pout, but they’re both too regal for that.  They just stand proud, every inch of their bodies still, almost militant.  Wooden and inanimate.  Ultimately, I win the argument.  There will be no playing guitar tonight. Not the electric, or the acoustic.

*

heh heh heh heh. This is a republish from 2018 or 2019. But for me it just never gets old.

I fooled ya’ll.

Oh here’s another tidbit. I posted this snippet from a dating profile earlier and pondered how the guy might respond (below). He responded “well played”. I like the guy already. I was actually super moody and hoping to scare him off, so I’m very impressed by this “well played” reaction =).

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