My Coworkers Tried to Have a Threesome with Me

Mutt — the bartender training me on my first shift— was making me break into smiles, even laugh.

He freestyled raps on the spot. He hated the Kardashians as much as I did, similarly longing to watch them die slow and torturous deaths. Even more importantly, we shared very similar views on a controversial topic that had gotten me socially ostracized in the past.

Meeting a like-minded soul felt like a personal hallelujah.

By the end of the night, I felt myself attached to him, linked by an invisible thread on a sharp hook.

…

On my second shift bartending weekends, I worked again with my newfound crush.

I also met and got to know the other new bartender: a 24-year-old girl named Elizabeth. She was bubbling over with nervous, joyous energy. We connected instantly as well, though I am eleven years her senior.

We made fun of bitchy customers, helped each other craft Mexican Martinis and Bloody Mary cocktails, and complained about feeling overworked.

All the while, Mutt was taking us under his knowledgeable wing, and making us laugh too.

All three of us were getting along famously.

…

Meanwhile, my attraction to Mutt was becoming all the more palpable, especially to myself.

It was quickly becoming an overtly sexual attraction, on both our parts.

That kind of freaked me out.

Though charming and soft-hearted, I suspected that he was also the type of dude who was oversexed and slept around. Like, a lot. Compulsively.

Still, I couldn’t shake the sensation of being hypnotized by his sexual magnetism. I decided to approach Elizabeth about my sexual angst.

“Guess who I am feeling super attracted to,” I said.

She guessed but was wrong.

“No, no, no. It’s Mutt.”

“Oh my God, me too!” She exclaimed.

“So I’m not crazy! Is it just me or does he give off an intense sexual energy?”

“Yes! He does! I feel it!” Elizabeth readily agreed.

“He’s such a player,” I rolled my eyes and groaned.

“Hell, I’d sleep with him!” She retorted before bounding off to attend to a needy barfly.

…

When Mutt asked me out the next night, I told him the truth.

Yes, I was very attracted to him. Yes, I felt an instant connection. “But,” I told him,“You seem like a player.”

“Of course, I get laid,” he responded. “But that’s not what I’m looking for with you.”

“Let’s just stay friends for now,” I suggested.

“By the way,” I teased, “Elizabeth and I are both attracted to you.”

“We can have a threesome,” he shot back, quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.

I busted out laughing in spite of myself. In the midst of my laughter, though, I had a sobering thought.

Were the reasons Mutt made me laugh the same reasons I was hesitant to date him?

…

That weekend when I showed up to my shift, Elizabeth immediately made a beeline for me.

“Mutt told me he asked you to have a threesome with us.”

Her grin was big, bright, very close.

I quickly swerved the topic of conversation into an accusation against Mutt. “I told you — he’s definitely a sex addict!”

“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Elizabeth shared, “the tension between us has been getting intense this week.”

“Sexual tension you mean?” Somehow, I felt the need to clarify.

“Oh yes,” she confirmed, before further divulging that they’d been engaging in sexual banter and were planning to grab dinner soon.

Half-jokingly, half-not, I threw it out there. “So, this means I can’t sleep with Mutt, right?”

Her eyes turned wide. Suddenly. she looked very vulnerable, even child-like.

“Please don’t,” she said.

I quickly came to my senses and backtracked.

“I can’t anyways,” I reassured her. “I made a promise to myself.”

It’s true. I had.

…

When I first met Mutt, I was reeling and wounded and vulerable.

A married male friend had recently propositioned me. I’d turned him down, both horrified and irate. At the same time, I blamed myself: I couldn’t believe I’d put myself this position.

I was still receiving threatening and insult-laden texts from him when I met Mutt, who, in his child-like playfulness, felt like the human equivalent of a warm, comforting hug.

Rationally, however, I’d sensed from day one that Mutt was a player.

I’d even told him so.

It was the reason I turned him down. Twice.

See, I’d promised myself after a shameful and traumatic affair with a “married” man, that I’d no longer entertain cheaters or drinkers.

Mutt was clearly both.

…

First, Mutt sent me a drunken late night text intended for Elizabeth.

“Babe I miss you,” it read. Babe was Mutt and Elizabeth’s nickname for one another.

When I told Elizabeth over text about him accidentally drunk-texting me instead of her, she told me: “I’m finished with Mutt. He stresses me out.”

She was moving on, she informed me. There was a new guy at work. He had a tongue ring. She was into him.

I thought of how jealous Mutt would get watching her all over the new guy, and I smiled inside.

“I support you making Mutt jealous with this dude,” I texted back. “He deserves it.”

We joked about how awkward it would be later that night when she, Mutt, and Tongue Ring worked together.

Apparently, it was indeed pretty awkward, because Mutt texted me later that he had left early because he wasn’t “needed.” [Translation: He stormed out because Elizabeth and Tongue Ring were all over each other.]

He then went on to insist that I work alongside him the next day.

At that point, it clicked for me how manipulative Matt was being. Elizabeth was driving Mutt mad with jealousy, and now he would attempt to do the same to her, via me.

…

When I arrived to work the next day, my suspicions were confirmed.

Elizabeth was all over the other male bartender — it wasn’t Tongue Ring this time, but a friend of his.

Mutt, meanwhile, was deflated and red-faced.

I approached Elizabeth. “What’s going on? Mutt is literally trying not to cry right now.”

She didn’t answer but seemed pleased.

I have a feeling he’s going to try to use me to make you jealous,” I added, glowering at the thought.

“Funny you say that,” she responded. “He just told us that he’s been telling you that he’s going to marry you.”

Marry me?

I felt my features drop in disbelief. “Oh my God, that never happened.”

Fuming, I confronted Mutt, who sheepishly denied all accusations against him.

“I’m still down for a threesome though,” he couldn’t resist adding.

Frustrated, I tried another tactic to break through. I thought back to what a bar manager had confided in me about Mutt the week prior. I repeated his words, pretending they were my own.

“I get it, Mutt, you’re getting over a divorce. That’s one of the toughest things a person can experience. You’re doing things for your ego right now.”

“Ego? What?” He feigned obliviousness.

I gave up acting mature.

“Keep me out of your love triangles!” I seethed instead.

When he texted me a few hours later, I ignored the message. I know — for certain now — that the reasons I like Mutt are the same reasons he is undatable. But maybe learning to say no to the wrong guy is the first step towards learning to say yes to the right one.

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

***

You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:

White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism

Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box

The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer

What We Talk About When We Talk About Men

—

Photo credit: Michael Discenza on Unsplash

 

The post My Coworkers Tried to Have a Threesome with Me appeared first on The Good Men Project.