Has A Fantasy Ever Ruined Your Relationship? (AHEM, THREESOMES)

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.
To no one’s surprise at all, I am a big proponent of discussing fantasies with the person you’re boning. Actually, I’m big on discussing fantasies in general. I mean, obviously I’m that friend who loves to wax lyrical about kinky sex while deep-throating a bottle of two-buck Chuck. My friends are so lucky to have me.
 
Truth be told, I’m not sure if I do enough crazy shit in bed to earn that, ick, sorry, Samantha status -- at least, not on a regular basis. I guess I just exude sexual authority. That, or people assume it’s cool to talk to me about whatever because my vibrator sometimes turns up in weird places around the house.
 
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Just in case your fantasy involves a college freshman with bad bangs dressed in a French maid costume and an unsanity college dorm room.

 
ANYWAY. I’m open about stuff I’m into with my girl friends; I’m open with my boyfriends; I used to be open with my plain ol’ regular guy friends, but they kept misinterpreting my oversharing as cloaked confessions of desire and got kinda... handsy with me. I’ve since cut that out. 
 
But, for the most part, talking out fantasies is such a very awesome thing to do. It makes you feel less weird about anything you might have been feeling weird about, brave for making yourself vulnerable, and close to the person you’re talking to. And, of course, with a significant other, it’s some next-level shit because you might actually get to ACT on your fantasy.
 
It’s no small thing when a kink you’d only ever gotten off to during “me time” becomes a thing that could actually take place, right here, in the fourth dimension. (I just had to Google that -- I thought we were in the third. Also, tough luck if your fantasy is getting it on in dimensions 1-3 or 5+, huh?) It’s natural to get crazy-bananas excited about having sex up against a window or slutty schoolgirl role-play or dripping candlewax in places where candlelight might not ever shine otherwise. 
 
As long as you and your boo abide by the #1 rule for communicating in a relationship, which is to not be a dick when someone makes themselves vulnerable to you, this should be a good experience. You’re going to be happy about it, and you’re going to want to bring it up again.
 
And, in some cases, again and again and again and AGAIN.
 
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Because ménage-a-fucking-trois.

 
See, though I’ve never gotten biblical with a guy who didn’t have three or four (invariably porn-y) secondary fantasies, threesomes have always, always, always been the Big Kahuna. Threesomes with another girl, specifically. And because I agree that such a threesome would be sexy in theory -- I’ve never actually had one -- I’m down to discuss. 
 
By “discuss,” I mean talk dirty about how hot it would be whilst we’re mid-coitus, on occasion. Really, I’d say most anything mid-coitus. I might also be willing to talk it over with slightly less enthusiasm when we’re not banging, like, “There’s a very, very slim chance I’d ever do this. I don’t know. It does sound fun, but. Complications. Could I write about it for xoJane?”
 
I don’t like to shut down the conversation entirely. After all, I try to live my life with that pesky writer’s motto in mind: I’ll try anything once. Besides, talking about threesomes with someone you’re dating can be really great, and usually, I enjoy it.
 
The first 12 times.
 
Because ARGH. In my experience at least, 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. Or, if not never, ever, at least for two or three weeks straight.
 
Thought you might want to watch a little somethin’ before bed,” dude might say, grinning slyly, as I crawl into bed with my hair in a scrunchie and zit cream on my face after a 20-hour-long day. (Said somethin’: “Busty Blonde Office Threesome BIG TITS.”)
 
“I saw you checking out that redhead’s ass at the party. I bet you wish she were here with us right now, eating you out,” dude might surmise, incorrectly, at three in the morning when he probably has whiskey dick. (She bent down directly in front of me and had a PLUMBER’S crack.)
 
I could rattle off many, many more examples of this squicky Hell YEAH The Girl I’m Sticking It To Is Into Threesomes phenomenon. They’re not bad on their own, but picture those and tons of similar comments on loop, constantly, as the white noise in the background of your relationship. It’s happened with everyone I’ve ever talked dirty to, and it fucks with my head big-time. 
 
For one, there are plenty of things I fantasize about that I wouldn’t actually want to happen in real life. Threesomes fall somewhere between those two -- it’s not, like, a hard limit, but it’s also not something I would ever go out of my way to make happen. There are so many logistics involved, and so many emotional ramifications. 
 
Also, I usually make a point of being like, “This is a hot thing of which you speak, but I’m not sure if I could do it in the real world. We can talk about it though! Sometimes.” I feel disrespected, then, when “sometimes” becomes literally every time we have sex. Like, have you forgotten about my boobs? Why don’t you do something with those for a minute?
 
I’d need to be in the most stable relationship ever to seriously entertain le menage. An ex was bitten by the threesome bug at a particularly bad time in our relationship, and it was a train wreck. Because I was already feeling insecure about myself and even more so about us, each threesome comment wriggled into my skull to nest and fester.
 
I’m not enough for him, I’d think. He wants to fuck someone else. He wants to fuck someone hotter. We’re bored with each other and our regular sex is boring so he wants DIFFERENT sex.
 
And. You know. Now he’s my ex-boyfriend. 
 
Of course, we didn’t break up because he talked about threesomes too often. I’m not ridiculous. We had a million other problems, and besides, it was my responsibility to communicate that I was feeling uncomfortable. (I’m growing up, I swear.) 
 
Still, it didn’t exactly help matters much. And even if my own issues were ultimately at the heart of my uneasiness, would a little tact have been SO much to ask for? 
 
More importantly, this isn’t a thing that just douchey dudes do. This ex, generally speaking, is a good guy. Most of the guys I’ve been with who have gotten all THREESOMES! THREESOMES! THREESOMES! on me have also been good guys. In fact, sometimes the vanilla ones are the worst. I’ve created some monsters, that much is true.
 
Now you tell me. Has a fantasy ever gotten out of hand in one of your relationships? In idea or in practice? Also, I don’t know, should I just, like, have a threesome? 
 
Rebecca’s crowdsourcing her sex life on Twitter @rebsanti. 
 
 

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