These sorts of connections rarely pan out. Our very first ever such date was hot, and led us to have sex next to another couple. Our very second such date led to a 2×2 connection that endures to this day as a bona fide friendship. But since then, reversion to the mean being what it is, the vast majority of our dates have not led to full-on 2×2 connections. Turns out, it’s exponentially more complicated when the question isn’t simply “are we both attracted to one another?” but instead, “is each of the four of us attracted to the other three of us in a way that enables all four of us to imagine going to bed together?”
When we’ve gone out with other couples, most often, we’ve all simply kissed goodnight – sometimes swapping spit, sometimes not – and gone our separate ways. T and I use these dates to spice up our sex, and the debrief is almost always hotter and more fun than the date itself. It’s honestly not too disappointing when we have an “unsuccessful” date, because it always is good for us.
Occasionally, there’s a bit more of a spark between two of the opposite-sex non-couple members. Most often, this has been the case between T and the other man. She’s hot, you see, and so every man we go out with wants her. And the way her desire works, it tends to be activated by powerful desire, so a man who compellingly, convincingly demonstrates that he wants her is (quite) likely to be rewarded.
Women being famously more selective than men, not every woman we go out with wants me (and, I suppose, I don’t want every woman).
When there’s been a mis-match – when the man and T have clicked, but the woman and I haven’t – T often has gotten laid. Sometimes just by the guy. Occasionally joining the couple. This has, for the most part, worked well for us, though it leaves me feeling both envious and slightly sad. Occasionally, feeling sorry for myself. But happy for her. In the end, even if it’s tough for me, it’s better for us.
What’s hardest for me, of course, is when I’m attracted to the woman, but she’s not attracted to me. When that happens, it’s particularly hard for me to watch T, a week or three later, head out the door to hook up with the male half of a couple, knowing that I’ve been explicitly, roundly, rejected. That’s a shitty feeling.
And/but, it’s useful. I find it genuinely helpful to explore the sensations that accompany rejection. The sense of worthlessness, ugliness, undesirability. And envy and resentment. All that. For what reason? Because some person I don’t know didn’t actually want my cock? Seems a bit much, no?
Still, it’s what I feel….
Recently, we had an unfamiliar (for us) configuration of reactions to a couple: T wasn’t into him (and he may or may not have been into her – his inscrutability on the question no doubt had a lot to do with T’s response), but the woman and I were raring to go.
While T was in the bathroom, I said to him, “You really should go intercept her….” He went, and told T I had sent him.
Note to T’s future suitors: tell her, show her, that you want her, and she’ll be putty in your hands. Tell her that I sent you? Not so much.
While he was shooting himself in the foot, his girlfriend and I were making out in the restaurant. “You’re really hot,” she said. “But you know that,” she said, between kisses.
I said something similar. I don’t remember what, honestly. What I do remember is that her hair was gorgeous, her eyes, piercing, her lips, luscious. She had great curves, and as I got just a tempting taste of her ass in my hands, I wanted more.
I had no clue he was stepping in it twenty feet away. I thought he was sealing the deal. But when the moment came for us to make our next move, T confessed. “I’m willing,” she said, “but not enthusiastic.”
Here’s a basic rule of ours: we don’t take one for the team. We’ve each done it before. It doesn’t go well. And honestly, it’s not fair to the other couple. She was willing, but that’s just wrong.
So we kissed them goodnight, and went home. To some delicious sex.
A day or so later, I confirmed by text with the female half of the couple that she couldn’t, wouldn’t split off, see me alone.
She was generous enough to allow me to believe that if she could, she would. But firm in informing me that, alas, she couldn’t.
I haz a sad.