​​How (Not) to Have Your First Threesome

Last edition I talked about my sexuality Sex and the City style: without real depth. This time, let’s get into the nitty gritty.

I said before how I’d dated my first girl when I was 21. I love her, and I feel like I learned a lot about myself (aka I literally just confirmed that I did indeed like girls). And as lovely an introduction to being a big fat gay that was, with COVID, lockdowns, and homophobic flatmates, my queer celebration came to a screeching halt. But nevermind about that. I have better stories about sex from later in my life.

I’ve dated a few people who said that after they came out (and realised their attractions were real) they had a “gay hoe phase”. I never got that. I’d come out and then been forced back into the closet, and when I came out again, it was more daunting than exciting. 

But. With the help of my good friend, Kirsty, I began my (albeit not so extreme) gay hoe phase. We used to hang out of her bedroom window smoking like little chimneys, leaving the others inside to discuss our every secret sexual desire. Mine: threesomes.

Read more on this topic…

Is Monogamy Overrated?

“We’ve all been taught from young that monogamy is standard, monogamy is correct, monogamy is something we never question.”

How to Have Your First Threesome

I’d always seen couples on tinder stating they were looking for a “fun plus one in the bedroom”, and although I was interested, I’d shrugged it off. It’s usually seen by queer girls as just hetero couples trying to spice up their love lives and thereby using you as a sexual object. In all honesty, that probably is true in many cases. However, that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to gain from the side of the unicorn. I’d explained to a friend that I was feeling kind of scared of dating women and maybe a threesome would help.

A man (the person I’d become sexually accustomed to) + a woman (the person I desired) = the combination I needed to get over my fear?

This leads me to my first threesome, and let me give you this one tip: if you’re a gay woman, don’t sleep with straight women. It was disappointing: I love women, and I love it when they love me. My first threesome was really just a hetero couple going on a sexual adventure so many straight men have dreamt of.

The key point here being this was purely his desire. It was nothing to do with mine or her pleasure. And that’s supported by the fact that he was the one who kept messaging me, he was the one who kept asking for another threesome, and he was the one who kept watching every one of my instagram stories for months (…despite having unfollowed me). He’d used me and his girlfriend for his own sexual gratification, and it left me feeling a little sullied. This did not cease my own conquest of finding the perfect threesome, however… 

The second threesome I had was more of what I signed up for. She was bi (a plus). She stated from the very beginning that she was on the hunt for a girlfriend (a minus). We had great sex (a plus plus plus). I hardly remember her boyfriend being there (…also kind of a plus). He did, however, play the role of helping me feel more comfortable being with a girl again, so I can’t be too negative about his presence. Helping me here meant that he told me what to do next: like a step-by-step instruction.

Sometimes, I feel like I need an IKEA instruction manual on what to do in bed, and he gave me just that. After he’d finished his duty in aiding me in satisfying his girlfriend, he went for a shower and headed to bed, whilst me and her carried on shagging into the sunset.

Read my very first article!

On Queerness, Coming Out, and Sex and the City

In Bea’s first column, she talks about realising she’s queer, coming out, and how these experiences were shaped by Sex and the City.

This Isn’t Porn; This is Real Life

These two experiences (my entire gay hoe phase thus far – I told you it wasn’t so extreme) taught me that having threesomes is just like dating: you meet up, go for drinks and see if you’re compatible. And just because it’s a common sexual fantasy, doesn’t mean it’ll live up to your dreams. This isn’t porn. This is real life.

These experiences also had me questioning my sexuality all over again. I was disappointed with the first girl for not being sexually interested in me, and with the second girl her boyfriend was just kind of there… Was I even attracted to men anymore? I’d liked men romantically and sexually before (although they were far and few in between, despite having dated a fair number of them…)

I saw a TikTok recently that made me question everything. It was a woman who said that she had mostly dated women, but she wasn’t averse to dating men. The factor that put her off was that in customary hetero sex she would’ve been the one being penetrated. 

To summarise and simplify this all: the woman in the Tiktok wanted to peg a man. And the reason I’m bringing this up? I want to peg a man, too. 

On Being a Top

I spoke to my gay friend recently about whether you can tell if someone’s a top or a bottom by looking at them (their aura, their behaviour, their way of speaking to others). I guessed he was a bottom, but he told me he was verse (does both) but preferred to bottom. After his initial shock of finding out I am gay (YES, I am gay), he guessed I was verse but with a strong preference to top. I feel like I deserve to live how I am perceived. I deserve to top a man. 

Also, isn’t a man who is accepting of being pegged a huge turn-on? I’ve always loved and appreciated the men in my life who flaunt themselves in the face of the feminine-hating patriarchy by wearing heels, make-up, and skirts. Like my sexuality is a spanner in the works of heteronormative patriarchal society, is their comfort with their sexuality not theirs?

But now I’m left with one question: will I ever find my perfect threesome? Is it possible to find a couple with whom I can top both the man and the woman? Please send all your prayers and hopes to 0800-save-a-budding-bisexual.