How I almost had a threesome

My life is very simple. I am still in love with my ex but it’s been seven or eight months now since we’ve last seen each other and there is no chance of seeing him again in the near future. These guidelines being given, enters Tinder and my amazing, soothing idea that having sex with one guy was still too difficult, hence let’s have a threesome, this, my mind, heart and body parts find perfectly acceptable.

A meditation the night before with a mantra “I am ready to receive. My threesome, my new job, Paris” — and magically an opportunity appears the next day. Michelle, nice picture of her and her guy, a racy pic of the view of her back that took me some time to understand (between his legs while he is comfortably sitting).

I swipe, he swipes, the conversation begins.. Since I am French, my filters are set low and it cuts through the chase. First you check the basics: articulate person, able to write semi-complex sentences to form interesting, exciting thoughts and some humor; your own body knowledge: who would you compare your breasts to? (I answered ScarJo pre-Avengers); confirmation of the mission statement or vision “Three is a good number”. All boxes checked, you move to WhatsApp.

He is not French but cuts very quickly to the chase. Within two minutes, I have dick pics, a pic of her naked, a pic of some butt practice. Then starts the earnest discussion called let’s check body compatibility and sexual preferences.

It is still the beginning though so nothing is sure. You’re still at the “you might be able to find out” stage, the subtle hint that the battle is still to be won, you’re not there yet but approaching.

Strangely it reaches a point into getting each other turned on, while not deprecating Her, the other person. He wanted pics, he wanted to know my preferences, only to acquiesce how sexy it was to “them”. Climax constitute of the short videos of him masturbating (nice tattoos, nice dick). Maybe it wasn’t the truth but you’re on this ride and suddenly you really really want it.

Fast forward to some weekend silence but when you ask about the next steps, it goes to “What are you doing this weekend?, “Would be free this Saturday”, “ok, great, we can have some fun then”. The end begins. You assume she was ok with it. More pictures are requested though, this time full body, with clothes on is fine. You discuss preferences again about your breasts, you get compliments again, you know your waist isn’t the thinnest so as to lower the potential onsite disappointment, you send another body pic again.

Saturday comes with no news. You ask politely, no news again. Come Monday and the match is still on on Tinder so you try with some inspired insights, a nice hint at “let’s stay friends in case you had just forgotten”. Grace is called “it is a bit of a shame but well”. You already know he doesn’t give a fuck about you (most appropriate expression ever) but still you want to try.

The death sentence comes with a cold “I am sorry to say but I am afraid you are not our type at all”. As an educated person, you wonder about the semantic difference between “at all” and “after all”, which you deem would have been more appropriate. As an upset person with sex fantasy withdrawals, you want to yell back if you misread the “nice big tits” quote.

And then you unleash the inner Kraken about feeling like crap and not worth a cancellation. You feel vulnerable with these intimate pics of you out there and having spent your Saturday night miserable.

The rest of the discussion is like a ping pong between two walls. One that says they simply don’t want you and one saying you disrespected me. The final countdown is brought by the woman “And I thought I’d be having fun with a real man with real balls”. “Hold your temper and stop acting bitchy because we don’t want in your panties”. Another bad answer from Michelle. Feminism in full gear “And of course as soon as a woman says something against a man, she is bitchy. Great attitude”.

I still consider winning this argument as this is when he removed me from his Tinder. End of the story. Or is it? Sitting tonight on my couch thinking about having been too aggressive. Sitting on my couch tonight and thinking of losing some weight as he mentioned They didn’t like too much curves. Sitting on my couch and wondering if, as advised by so many, I should simply let go and move on and actually would have better not to fight this at all in the first place.

But then a part of me thinking that this is how it all happens, with no speaking up and not at least saying “hey actually I think you could have given more respect”. I got fired for the same reasons. An abusive behavior by an incompetent man who held the authority. Speaking up against such behavior when the two women before me shut up to keep their career.

I thought I was a unicorn — the woman desired in threesome because hot enough and not threatening enough — it turns out I am now just an angry woman, feeling cheated of some good time and new experience. Has the world been Tinderized, putting up with bad behaviors (from all sides) and not saying anything because “it’s better to let go, Tinder is full of people like that”? And because it’s what everyone is doing?

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