Love Threesomes, Hate the Patriarchy

the bisexual pride flag, red, purple, and blue

I really love threesomes. Really, really love threesomes. Well, threesomes, foursomes, moresomes. Pretty much any configuration that has me with one guy and at least one girl, I’m so down for. One of the most interesting products of taking the plunge into polyamory in 2009 is that it made it really difficult to compartmentalize my bisexuality into the straight and lesbian bins that monogamy seemed to sort my desires into by default, and I had to accept my unorthodox orientation in a way that had seemed mostly intellectual and “just for funsies” before.

August 17, 2010:

I guess it’s time to accept that I fit the stereotype.

I’ve been sexually and romantically involved with both guys and girls for nearly my whole life, though I was in serious denial about the girl bit until I was about 15 or so. I’d play in secret and then think “Nahhh, that didn’t count. It’s practice for boys…”

There are a number of negative stereotypes about bisexual people, which may or may not be true depending on which bisexual person you are assessing. 

One big one is that all bisexual people need to be with a guy and a girl, or they’re unhappy. While I don’t NEED that to be happy (I don’t really NEED anyone to be happy; that comes from within), I will admit that being sexual with at least 1 guy and 1 girl at the same time is an amazing rush, and I greatly prefer it to one-on-one or non-coed group encounters – playing with all guys or playing with all girls (and yes, I’ve done both). 

I guess this makes me societally a slut and a deviant.

But I’m starting to wonder if society is wrong to judge people like me so harshly…

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Of course, time has passed since I wrote that journal entry, and as I’ve accumulated more experiences, I can make finer distinctions… for example, fantastic sex with a skilled solo partner that I connect well with can match or even exceed group sex with less skilled partners that I don’t have a lot of emotional or sexual intimacy with. Kink amplifies this effect – so a solo kinky partner can easily have an edge over vanilla ones, regardless of number, depending on what all we’re doing.

However, take at least one skilled partner that I’m terribly connected with who is kinky as fuck into a group encounter? Fucking magic. And that’s currently where I find myself a lot these days.

I’ll confess that summer of 2015, the date of our reopen, that it was difficult to get to a point mentally with Skyspook where I wasn’t afraid of the potential downsides. I’d been to some bad places in my head with my ex Seth. Seth and I had some sexcapades, sure, but it didn’t come without cost:

From Bi, Female, and Sensitive:

His [Seth’s] vision, his goals, they were very superficial, ripped from porn. Two girls all to himself. Two mouths on his cock. A harem. And look, the 2-girl blow job can be fun as hell, but the trouble was that during our time together he was never willing to grow by putting himself out there and being vulnerable, never able to really embrace others as full people. In his sexual vision, I was an accessory. Powerless, exploited — and not in a fun way. The lazy kind of objectification that’s yawn inducing and boner wilting. The desperate distracted detached unimaginative unengaged kind. In short, the gross unwanted kind.

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So I pulled a lot of this baggage into my later bond with Skyspook. As a primary, Skyspook was so different from Seth in that Skyspook was eager for a period of monogamy, for growing, for working on ourselves and our relationship.

Skyspook was passionate as hell and kinky as fuck. He’s a fantastic husband and partner.

Still, when we made the mutual decision to open our relationship back up (after a rather web-upsetting mutual game-changing closed us down in 2011), I realized that I would have to convince myself that it was safe to proceed with him, to pull him into what I was craving. Not that we’d necessarily have to have group encounters always (we have and do see people separately when it makes sense and/or if we want), but I know myself. I know how much it gets me going, that I’d really enjoy group stuff, and I knew he’s the dude I wanted to have those adventures with.

I’m not the kind of poly person who is all ‘nilla, one on one, straight, and pretty much normal except for having a few different names on my Google Calendar.

No. I’m the other kind, the queer, kinky, more the merrier kind. So I had to get my head in order.

From Jankuary:

I spent one night sleepless, anxious, and disgusted by the double bind my own desires put me in – the love of threesomes, the harem fantasy, embracing my consummate sex monster-ness (monstrosity) and yet understanding how problematic such a thing is within a society rampant with patriarchal oppression, my own history of being (lazily and unsatisfyingly) objectified and used in such a manner by unscrupulous young men, and feeling disposable and interchangeable. I sobbed my eyes red and raw, confessing to a night owl friend that it had occurred to me in full technicolor the penis was amoral and greedy and that I felt like all men wanted to do was stab me to death with their penises, to obliterate me to feed their own desire.  Hot and terrible. I felt predated, empty, and inappropriately aroused. Gutted. This went on for hours, the maladaptive cognitions spiraling into helices, building structures upon one another. My anxiety crested and pulled me into a place where the nausea (my biggest symptom) had me completely at its mercy, and I vomited. My autonomic nervous system dumped out chemicals until I had no more. I managed 90 minutes of sleep and called off work, highly unusual for me.

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I continue to find that the risks that terrify me are the one I should be taking.

I’m pleased to report that a year later I’m having a fucking blast. Skyspook and I are closer than ever (thick as thieves!), and the year has yielded a number of fantastic adventures with plenty looming on the horizon.

Whenever I’m being ridiculous and improbable, I fantasize about having a serious long-term triad, but whoever she would be, I don’t know that she’s shown up yet. Still, my heart is open for something getting very entangled and very deep if it made sense to.

Regardless, it’s an incredible feeling to be with a man who is arguably more feminist than I am, who understands and appreciates my particular sexual leanings in a deep and loving way. He gets off on it, sure, but so do I (the whole point for me), and it’s always respectful, to me, to him, to whoever else is in the picture.

It’s good to be able to drop my guard a bit with him and just enjoy things.

Being a unicorn is fantastic, yet terrifying. You’re universally pursued, but you never know whether it’s because someone wants to cut off your horn, kill you and mount your head on the wall, or keep you at their ranch and spoil you.

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Meanwhile, back at the ranch… I’m really digging it here.

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My new book is out!

A Geek’s Guide to Unicorn Ranching: Advice for Couples Seeking Another Partner 

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1 Comment

  1. I’m so glad I’ve stumbled upon your blog. I’m a unicorn in my first real relationship; up until now it was just casual encounters with couples. I love my partners, and I know they love me. I’m struggling with jealousy, however. He hasn’t dated anyone but me and his wife since we got together, but I find myself jealous when he spends time with someone he used to date and is still friends with. I am trying so hard to get to the root of the problem and make my compersion overcome my jealousy. I hate feeling this way. Anyway, thank you.

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