Lesbian Problems: My Girlfriend Left Me For The Girl We Had a Threesome With

So what did I learn? Trust. No. One.

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Ah, threesomes. Either we love them, hate them, have had them, want to have them, or they stay in our fantasies. Though I am pretty much over them now (they just feel v college to me and I like all the attention), I have had a decent amount of them. But I will never forget my first.

I don’t know how I continued to have threesomes after my first one. Because something terrible happened. No, I didn’t fart. No, a I didn’t get an STD. No, I didn’t break a limb. What unspeakable terror occurred, you ask? My girlfriend left me for the girl we had a threesome with.

I was 17 years old and had been slutting it up for a few years, but I craved something ~more.~ I was v insecure and unsure of myself but the one thing I was sure of was my sex drive. I know, thinking about teenagers having sex is gross but any good writer knows to give her audience context to the story. And I could make this more recent to make it sexier but no one likes a liar so here we go. I’m 17.

I was fully in love with a lesbian f*ckboy that I met in religion class (oh the irony) — let’s call her Shane. Shane was super swaggy for a high school senior. She hooked up with lots of straight girls. She was one of those lesbians: that “turned” girls. She secretly texted the most popular girls in our grade that wore polos and Abercrombie. She hooked up with theater nerds. Queer girls went to our school’s gay-straight-alliance meetings just to flirt with her. In short, she had that irresistible f*ckboy charm of which no high school demographic was immune to. I blame her for my predisposition for finding f*ckboys wherever I go and proceeding to Jersey turnpike them.

Anyway, I fell head-over-heels-teen-girl in love with her. I followed her around like a puppy dog for months until she somehow asked me to be her girlfriend. But her hoe-ing didn’t stop. I obsessively scrolled through her texts (this was back when we had Motorola RAZRs instead of iPhones) whenever she left the room (this was before cheaters caught on and started taking their phones to the bathroom). I continually saw definitive evidence that she was cheating on me: with this guidette dyke from the town over that she met while versing her basketball team, with this curly haired Irish girl that had DDD boobs, and with this super ratchet girl that always asked to copy my history homework. But since I was powerless to her f*ckboy ways, I kept my mouth shut.

Then we met Mia in our advanced English class (don’t you know dykes love Shakespeare). She was the new girl. And everyone automatically thinks the new girl is hot and mysterious, even if she’s not. But Mia was genuinely inexplicably sexy, and Shane and I both agreed. Normally I felt raging jealousy for the girls Shane expressed interest in, but this time I felt…excited. Mia was innocent girl sexy chic, and wore these huge rimmed glasses and stockings. But she was so wicked hot so it was “ironic.” I found myself fantasizing about slipping her stockings off.

So Shane invited Mia to a party. Shane was notorious for throwing full-blown bangers that combined every friend group. Even the jocks that called us dykes in the hallway would show up with a smile and a six-pack. After a 4 loko (nothing good comes of 4 loko) each, we were ready to hook up in the most mature way possible: playing truth or dare after mostly everyone had left the party.

The next thing I knew, Mia and I were feverishly kissing, swapping watermelon alcohol flavored spit. We all fell asleep unceremoniously splayed across the basement carpet. We invited her to hang out with us the following weekend and it wasn’t long before we surpassed kissing and all our clothes were off (I was wearing Hollister jeans and a hot pink juicy velour zip-up.) Mia was wearing her signature stockings, and I relished ripping them off.

To touch another woman, a soft and pretty femme, was decidedly my most important coming of age experience. She had the most perfectly shaved vagina I have ever encountered (seriously girl if you’re reading please share your secrets because waxing doesn’t even get me that soft).

I’m lowkey getting turned on recounting this scene. But then she was taking forever to cum and I was getting caught in the time-and-space-are-blurring-my-tongue-is-going-to-fall-out-of-my-mouth-please-God-let-her-cum moments and the song “Dirty Talk” by Wynter Gordon played on repeat. I still get triggered when that song plays in the gay bar. After it was all over, we drank vodka out of Subway soda cups and went to Olive Garden. (Why is the Long Island teen experience so weird?)

Anyway. We continued to have threesomes for a few weeks after that. I was somewhat addicted. Until one day they started hanging out without me. During our next threesome, I abruptly stopped participating and sat on the side of Shane’s bed. They kept going. They didn’t even notice I was sulking.

I got up and got dressed. Shane’s head was still between Mia’s legs. I sighed loudly. Mia grabbed Shane by the hair. As I exited the room, I heard Mia erupt into an orgasm. We didn’t suck back vodka and eat cheap fake Italian food. Shane didn’t even ask where I was going when I dramatically stomped my feet, willing to be stopped. V cinematic, no?

Shane and I continued to date for about a month after that, though I knew she was seeing Mia regularly. I’ve since channeled my masochism into kink but back then I poured it into letting people hurt me emotionally. Shane gaslit me and said I was “insane” for thinking anything was going on. Mia claimed to be my friend and we got our nails done and went tanning together, all the while she insisted her and Shane never hung out.

The plot thickens with, what’s now, v boring high school drama including a saga of myspace messages. It culminates with me shoving Mia against a locker and getting banned from our school’s after-prom party. V ratchet. V Long Island.

I had to watch Shane and Mia go to prom together while I was stuck with some weirdo 20-year-old high school drop-out that had aspirations to be a rapper. (He legit rapped the entire limo ride.) So what did I learn from this shit show of a story? Trust no one.

But, like, more importantly, threesomes are hot.