Gina was a writer for a now defunct magazine. I had read one of her columns over a year ago and was impressed that she had pretty much admitted in print that she and her boyfriend used to indulge in the triple play.

We were introduced at a party recently and I immediately set to work on her for one of my ‘panel meetings’ on this very topic. Last month, we finally met up. I had to apologized profusely to Gina about my inability to get anyone else to come along for the discussion. To my surprise and gratitude, she told me not to worry, she would bring ‘a friend’ of her own. She brought with her one of the cutest actors in town! Brad.

The three of us relaxed with a bottle of vodka. “Are you guys together?” I asked, feeling terrible plebeian and square compared to their obvious bohemianism. Well, of course not. If they were, they would not have come together to talk about threesomes, even with the guarantee of anonymity.

To start off, Gina, goes on to explain the difference between a threesome – which means sex, usually once-off, between three people at the same time, and a menage a trois – which means a ‘household of three’, a long-term liaison or living arrangement comprising of three persons in sexual relationship. Think Henry Miller, his wife June and Anais Nin.

Gina drew deeply on her cigarette. “I am polyamourous,” she announced and proceeded to tell us about her 5 year relationship with a Duct man which for two and a half years included an English girl.

“We had very long talks and mutually made the decision to establish a 3 person relationship. We even consulted a counsellor about it, and we were told that the long-term success rate is about the same as that of couples, meaning 50%.”

He also warned us about the drawbacks. “When the relationship fails, the threesomeness of it is blamed, even if it isn’t the real reason. Menages a trois happen usually because the people involved feel pretty secure about themselves but they still face challenges as well, like the lack of role models and social support. We live in a very hetero-couple world.”

In her case, she said that the three way relationship ended because the English girl, then at 35, the eldest in the menage, started to talk about commitment ceremonies and having children. “We were all living outside our home country then. The things she wanted opened a whole new can of worms. I started to ask myself, how would I bring her and the boyfriend and the baby to a reunion dinner back here?” The English girl left, and the pair separated less than six months later when Gina was head hunted back to New York.

Brad had been coerced over the indomitable Gina to provide the guy perspective which, as a writer, she knew I would need to balance her erudite perspective. The first thing he said was “I also want to get something straight. Me. I’, straight!”

As a ‘celebrity’ around town, and being terribly cute, he has had more than his fair share of offers from both men and women, sometimes together. “I’m not saying everybody does group sex, but it happens often enough, and it happens in all kinds of combinations and situations.” The most common, he says, are a couple in a relationship extending the invitation to another man or woman.

In a MMF equation, he has been both the guy in the relationship and the outsider. He has gone on ‘dates’ with the same girl as his buddy, and then taken turns with her, sometimes while the other watched, sometimes simultaneously. With the other guy, Brad admits he has gone as far as fondling, and even a little playful oral, “but like I said, I’m straight. No male-to-male penetration at all, ever.”

Ia a FFM situation, Brad is even more experienced. “Sleeping with two women or watching two women make out is every man’s fantasy…well, almost. But let me tell you something from a personal experience – it’s never going to be as enjoyable as you imagine, especially the first time. The first few times are always disappointing, sometimes problematic. Threesomes are a lot of work!”

Over the years however, Brad has come up with a few guidelines for himself. “Threesomes are not like regular sex. Threesomes need imagination and sensitivity to make sure everyone feels good – during the thing and afterwards! If you’re thinking about having a threesome, you better have some idea of what you’re going to be doing.”

“If you’re going to have sex with two women, understanding and respecting each other’s comfort levels should be a top priority. If your own partner is involved, you need to be absolutely clear on what she is comfortable with – in advance!”

Also remember that while your fantasy script runs along the lines of the two women giving you 100% of their attention, realistically they might want to please each other as well. “You might end up feeling ignored. If that happens, just keep busy and take matters into your own hands. Be helpful. Be patient. In threesomes, it’s kind of like a cycle of attention, and will get back to you eventually.”

Penetration, he says, is about you and one woman. Make sure both of them are comfortable with it before you do it with either one. Always remember there are three of you. “Even if I am done first, I still do everything I can to make sure the two ladies are satisfied. I believe everyone should be happy with the threesome experience. I don’t play favorites with orgasms, even if one of them is my girlfriend.”

Keep in mind that most people try to drink their way to bravery for a threesome but drunken sex usually turns out badly.

His last piece of advice is cautionary – play safe. Condoms are an obvious necessity, but it takes a pro like Brad to advise, when dealing with assorted insertions,”always use one hand to pleasure one woman, and use the other hand on the other woman. Don’t alternate. Same thing with penetration, use different condoms!”

Sometimes, very rarely, all you need is a playing field. It may not be Yankee Stadium or Lambeau Field; it could be a sand and dirt-ridden softball hole on the other side of town, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there to at least play the game. Everyone needs practice. The Neighborhood Draft House is meant to serve as a release; the type of place you can go into and most of the bartenders know your name, and you can sit around and hit on the waitresses unabashedly. My draft house doesn’t get that many good looking women walking through the door, it’s rare. Everyone needs a playing field and everyone needs to practice though.

Targets: Small Group College Girls

This wasn’t your average group of girls we were used to seeing there. All of them were arguably attractive in their own unique way, and they were all made up to go out to a club or dancing somewhere probably. The five of them were sitting with two guys, that were obviously not boyfriends, but were trying to act like they had some sort of chance. Keep swinging guys.

Strategy: Round On Us, Please

At some point or another I found myself singing along to Prince and turned to catch eyes with the cutest blonde and most outgoing of the group, who was also mouthing along to the song about the time it reached “I just want your extra touch…” Time to step up to the plate. The three of my friends (one of which had turned down a hard-earned phone number in an earlier outing) had been gawking for some time already over this small group:

“dude, that one is smoke.”

“Hell yeah, she is.”

Typical shit. Eventually I told them that they should do something about it, knowing they didn’t have the balls or the game for it. They poked each other around a little bit and then went back to talking about them. When the two random guys with this group of girls got up to go to the bathroom (to puke I later found out) I went ahead and took a swing; grabbing our waitress and telling her that if any of them wanted to stay for another round, I’d be happy to buy it for them. (Explanation: I am well aware of the dangers of looking like the sketchy guy at the end of the bar that sends over a drink and gives a pointed-finger wink to the girl. This isn’t a tactic you should use unless you’re confident it won’t be money thrown away. It requires that everyone at the table or in the group not make eye contact until they come over to say “thanks.” For some reason, just buying them a drink, and not doing anything about it nor acting as if you expect something in return, kills women and they end up loving it. If you can give a random girl positive attention that she doesn’t understand, your doing better than walking over with a rose and invitation to a dinner date.) They took the bait looking over from their seats at us, and then whispering around at each other. For once too, my friends played it well, not looking over and acting as if nothing had changed and that the basketball game on the TVs was more interesting. All five of them came over asking if they could sit with us, then cramming themselves into the five person booth with us. So, we were in. The conversation around the table went well, the pukers were explained as old high school friends as they stumbled out the door in defeat, and they eventually invited us to join them at the dance club a few blocks away. We said we would consider it.

Location: Dance Club, “College Night”

College Night is when everyone eighteen and older gets in the door at this particular venue. Dangerous. We let the girls leave, then stayed for another round before making our way over to the club. Once inside, we were surrounded by a sea of young, dumb girls all wearing bright yellow under-21 bracelets. At least they were marked. Our girls were already on the dance floor with their Bud Lights and flagged us over once they saw us. We all drank and danced and I eventually got a phone number off the cute blond. That led to a sketchy make-out in a dark corner near a bar table, then more dancing. Last Call came and we were all ushered outside where the girls explained to us that they were going to a gay bar to keep dancing. Baffled, we resisted the invitation and they informed us that they would call when they were finished dancing. Sure, have fun.

Lesson Learned: Answer the F***ing Phone!

We left the club, got a few hot dogs from the street vendors and made our own respective ways home, comfortable with at least getting a couple of numbers. I watched some Sports Center in my den after putting my phone onto its charger in the bedroom, then passed out on the couch. When I woke up the next morning I found fourteen different ways to kick myself when I saw that the cute blond had called me twice about an hour after I got home. Needless to say, I got booty-called and wasn’t aware enough to answer it. Not good. That’s like coming to the game with all your gear and then walking out onto the field without your glove; chances are, all your going to do is drop the ball…

Good Time Score – 7/10
Phone Number – POSITIVE
Hook-Up – NEGATIVE

Asheville, aka ‘Ashe-Vegas,’ North Carolina. A city described as the ‘Paris of the Southeast.’ Birthplace to Look Homeward Angel’s author Thomas Wolfe who, in his book, said, “Where? When? O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.” Fair enough. I spent most of my summers growing up near and around ‘Ashe-Vegas,’ a town that sleeps only because it’s too drunk, stoned or hungover to find anything better to do with itself. So, when a good friend invites you to a concert by one of the more popular progressive blues rock bands around, in Asheville, you find a way to go, and pray the whole ride up the mountain that you can muster the strength to come back down the next morning in time to make it to work.

Pregame: Small Corner Pub- nearly empty at 7pm, Wilco concert at 9pm

After meeting up with a few other friends in the area, we started with ‘irish-car-bombs’ (nectar of the gods) and got good and ready to walk down to the auditorium for the concert. Once inside, we moved on to vodka-cranberries; weak, yes, but the bar was limited and bourbon makes me aggressive or puts me to sleep. The concert though, was everything I imagined it would be. Punk-rock-looking girls intermingled with hairy hippie chicks- (the most common real estate known to the territory) none of which looking very promising. Everyone, everyone was sparking bowls and popping ecstasy, which is always entertaining to watch. Especially, when you bump into that one guy who has his eyes completely closed while it looks like he’s rhythmically seizing to whatever music is playing in his head while the band tunes up. I went to the bathroom an hour later, and he was seated on the ground with his head hung between his legs. If he had come with any friends, they weren’t hanging out with him now. It went on like that for the rest of the night, people just getting wasted and listening to great music. My friend and I were able to maneuver our way to the front row which simply made the whole experience at least ten times better.

Targets: None, the music was good enough for now

Postgame: Basic bar in the downtown area

Once the concert was over, we wandered back outside and down a few streets towards the more populous areas of the city in search of liquor and ladies. Along the way we saw a group of what appeared to be good looking girls at a distance in a parking lot. I yelled at one, a girl in a white coat, who looked to be the most attractive of them. “Hey baby, where’s the party!?” rarely gets you anywhere though, so we kept walking and hit the jackpot: a nice large bar with a pool hall feel on one side, and a blues band playing on the other. There weren’t many girls anywhere, but we were happy to be listening to Al Green covers, having become used to the bar scenes in Mississippi and Memphis. The drink choice quickly turned to vodka-Redbulls and the night started getting interesting.

Targets and Strategy: a 60-some year old woman, and her mother

Yes, scary, but they could dance, and few people realize how valuable much older women can be to your game, seriously. Obviously we weren’t going to hook-up with them, and obviously we weren’t attracted to them. They were bait. Old bait. Within ten minutes, two songs: “Love and Happiness” and “She’s a Brick House” we had drawn in three different groups of girls. Well, we hadn’t, the old bait had. Soon enough, I turned around and saw ‘white coat girl’; tall, long blond hair, skimpy little top, tight jeans, and tan- in the middle of November. She had taken her coat off by now, but she bellied up to the bar and I caught her eye in mid-spin with my dancing partner. She gave me an ‘aw, that’s cute’ smile and when the song finished I asked the old bait if she wanted a drink. She accepted, and we walked over to the bar, right next to the ‘white coat girl’ (WCG) and her friend. I looked them over and asked if they needed a drink too, paying the most attention to WCG, who I had concluded was at least a 9.5. Then, the bait began to pay off. We all sat around talking for a while; WCG, her friend, old bait and I, while my wingman friend continued dancing with old bait’s mom, ‘older bait.’

“Girls, this one has worn me out! One of ya’ll had better take him back out there ‘fore you miss out on a steal!” Old bait said, setting me up perfectly.

I laughed and then asked WCG if she wanted to dance. That was it, deal sealed. I used to hate my mom for making me take Southern Etiquette classes, but she always told me I’d be thankful one day. Since living in Mississippi and becoming obsessed with the local blues bars, she was right. I can’t dance that well, but I can move and spin a girl a little to your basic Rhythm and Blues song and I have met few good looking women that don’t love to show off on a dance-floor. WCG and I danced for a while, and my wingman eventually picked up and started dancing with her friend. We made out here and there in between songs until last call when they invited us to go get some late night food with them. We drove WCG and her friend to a gas station/fry kitchen for some shitty food and water while laughing at the fact that we were dancing with such older women.

Lesson Learned: Old Bait, Great Bait

Eventually we left the fry kitchen and drove them back to WCG’s apartment where I got out to walk the two girls in. My wingman had done everything I could have asked him to do, and as I got out of the car, he explained that I had better seal the deal although he was not interested in the friend. When I got out I was invited inside by WCG and told my friend, that it was fun and that I would see him later on in the year and he left to drive back to Tennessee. We got into WCG’s room around 3:30 in the morning and I asked her to take me back to my car at around 8:30am. We didn’t sleep much during those five hours, so the ride home was brutal, being that I was also still drunk, but very pleased. I listened to Wilco all the way back down the mountain and made it to work with 3 minutes to spare, with a ‘shit-eating grin’ across my face for the entire shift.

Good Time Score – 9.5/10
Phone Number – POSITIVE
Hook-Up – DEFINITELY

Granted, maybe this isn’t the first place you’d think of to try out your game. There aren’t going to be many overly dressed up, fake-ID toting free-throws seeking approval in the form of a hook-up in a darkly lit hell-hole slinging around Guinness and Bass like water. No, your basic pub is going to attract women less concerned with outward appearance and who don’t mind the few extra calories from a stout beer. Their jeans are probably a little more loosely fit and worn than yours are. Their bar seats are pointed directly towards the taps, and they could care less of you trying to make eye contact with them.

Target: Taller straight dirty blonde with an athletic frame, and her friend, shorter curly light blonde with a petite frame. Both in tight jeans and well made-up, jackpot.

Sometimes, you just luck out. I scoured the room from front to back and told myself there was little hope with the current playing field. So, I sat back and found a spot on the wall with my wingman to try and enjoy the band. Then, out of nowhere, close enough to the front of the house that I didn’t notice her on the way in; I caught eyes with a decent prospect. Actually, after a couple more looks my way, I realized she’s a great prospect. So, I turned to my friend, who was out-of-it drunk, and conclude this was to be a one man entry.

Strategy: ‘Another Drink?’

This one is a classic. It’s very difficult to go wrong with trying to be gentlemanly. I finished my drink right about the time her friend got up to go to the bathroom and moved into the spot she left behind at the bar, conveniently located next to the target. I set down your empty beer and calmly glanced over to the blonde I had been making eyes with from across the room all night. She smiled; I look at her beer, and then back at her,

“looks like your almost done there, can I buy you another round?”

“Sure,” she says, and I was in.

I got the conversation going with the usual banter, ‘are you from around here,’ ‘what do you do?’ etc. Her friend eventually comes back from the bar and I introduce myself and buy her a drink, too. Things were looking good, so I signal over the wingman. He comes in and does a good job of picking off the petite blonde, so I can keep working on the taller one. Soon, he runs out of beer and leans forward to buy himself one and we end up switching. Problem here was, I was more attracted to the taller blonde, but hit it off better with the shorter one. The case was vice-versa for the wingman. Nevertheless we get through a few rounds with them and they get up to go to the bathroom, together of course. On the way back, a group of frat boys move in and try to make their move, these being the most attractive and obviously single girls at the bar. The petite blonde gives a ‘please help’ look to me and I try to pry the drunken fratty away without being confrontational. There had to have been thirty of them all there together, I didn’t like my odds. Finally, they both get away and invite us to another bar where they are going to meet some more friends.

“Sounds Great, see you there.”

Lesson Learned: Rule #1- Always Take the Phone Number. Period.

We give it a little time and make our way over to the other bar, where we make eye contact again with the targets, get a couple of drinks and go to join some of our own friends over near the pool table. The key play here was waiting for them to come to us. We were invited, but they had to make the next effort if this was actually going anywhere. Eventually, they did come over and we all chatted some more with ‘later-on, post last-call,’ ideas going up in the air. They told us they were going to go talk to their friends and find out what they were doing. Some short time later, last call had past and I went to close out my tab. Coming back, the girls were walking out the door with their friends and I and my wingman were headed out behind them. They gave us eye contact to come over and talk some more in the parking lot, but the wingman turned away, towards our car.

“Don’t you want to go talk to them?” I asked.

“Nah, they’re going with those guys, their friends, your girl offered me her number, but I didn’t take it since they had plans with them,” was his answer. I froze, stunned by what I though I had just heard.

“You didn’t take her number?”

“No, they have plans,” he said.

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?” he said, drunk and worthless.

“Look,” I said, still frozen.

“If you and I are ever going to go out again, ever, you have to understand that you always take the phone number. Always try to get the phone number, no matter what. We could have easily gotten a date with either one of them some other night.”

“Alright, sorry let’s go.” he said.

“No, I don’t think you understand how serious this is. I am debating ever even talking to you again, they were hot, both of them,” I explained.

“Fine, Rule Number One, always get the phone number. I got it, can we go home now?”

He apparently was grasping the situation. I though, was left baffled and empty handed, four rounds shorter than necessary to be in the same situation.

Home it was, alone.

Generally Good Time Score : 5/10
Phone Number : No
Hook-up : No