We’re still not connecting. A few sleepy sheep claim to be having infrequent perfunctory sex, and,the women are softening, softening, softening, learning to become women, holding space for the men to be the bold, brilliant, empowered kings we know them to be, and working hard to mend this rift, to wring in this paradigm shift. But this will all be in the book — the true follow-up to the story “Hot, Sticky and Bothered: Wondering why guys don’t make the first move anymore and notes on the pains and pleasures of threesomes” in L.A. Weekly’s Lust in L.A. issue. All you really want to know now is what happened to the couple, right? Since I spent the summer processing the experience by way of my (best) band (ever), the Simones, here’s a handful of lyrics to catch you up:
I held on to the idea a while
One last kiss, one last smile
Just one more two-minute snooze
For me, your midnight muse
My true blue cosmic soul mate
A lifetime shy, seventeen years late
Handcuffed to his high school favorite
His threadbare security blanket
He brings in other girls
For his (allegedly) bi-curious wife
Seducing swine with pearls
Clinging to his co-dependent life
Talks weren’t talked
And talks weren’t walked
They shut me out
I suppose there was fallout
I never heard from her again
My mischievous meditating friend
He’s not allowed to talk to me
He’s back in his cage, he gave away the key
I’m angry with her
For throwing me away
For shutting me out
Because I’m not gay
I prayed and I prayed
For their marriage to heal
Sometimes it was bullshit
Sometimes it was real
Some days I hate them
Especially her
She of the Ph.D, the three-way rap
And the missing down-there fur
Sometimes I miss them
His poet’s soul, his witty banter
She, my artsy, literary friend
Him, my Mr. Happily Never After
These days, they’re off my radar
Faded memory stuff
He wrote that he was sorry
Not sorry enough
I’ve let it all go
Far, far away
The pain’s subsided
The lessons have stayed
My weekly three to four
Are all up to me
Besides the occasional shaman
And the imaginary rock star I see
I’m doing my work
And standing my ground
’Til my magnificent mirror
Is ready to come ’round
A big, bright, massive soul
Who’ll meet me where I am
My brave, beautiful, wise
Real-deal magic man.
From “Hot, Sticky and Bothered: Wondering Why Guys Don’t Make the First Move Anymore and Notes on the Pains and Pleasures of Threesomes” by Dani Katz
“I’d like to have one more night of you before you leave town,” Sasha e-mailed me as I was scrambling to get ready for a trip that I never ended up taking.
I groomed and moisturized before they came to fetch me (“Kidnapping you is half the fun,” texted Sasha). I was nervous.
“It’s weird enough getting naked in front of one person,” I vented to my best girlfriend. “But two? Just think of the ensuing dialogues comparing notes about my flaws and my scars and my bungling technique.”
She laughed away my doubts as textbook threshold anxiety, while I lamented my regrettably hetero track record. “I’ve never licked pussy before, and he went to a weeklong intensive to perfect his skills! How can I possibly measure up?”
At Nicki and Sasha’s, the three of us chopped vegetables together, and ate outside under the stars. Sasha admitted he had a crush on me, and I fessed up to the one I’d been harboring for him.
“Oooh … ,” gushed Nicki, smiling at this latest development. Our first awkward silence ensued. I wondered if they’d discussed this but I was suddenly too shy to ask.
“C’mon,” Sasha said, leading us both inside.
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