I Created A Love Triangle

I’m the worst. The absolute worst.

It’s late evening and I’m driving to Sean’s house. Since last spring, we’ve been in a “situationship”. I had no idea if we were heading towards something serious or if it was just sex.

If it was just bad, bad sex. Homeboy struggles to stay hard and I stupidly believe he’ll realize it’s an issue. Because of our situationship, I can’t easily say, “can you take a blue pill because sucking you off to get hard again every other minute is bullshit”.

Sean is otherwise perfect. A former college football player, he’s 6'3 and has the largest biceps I’ve ever seen in real life. He owns a gorgeous house in a ritzy neighborhood and is a bigwig VP for a medical device company. Bro is sexy as fuck. I melt when he tells me that I’m funny and hot.

Well, except for that wonky dick. He somewhat makes up for it with his finger skills but intimacy is not built on orgasms made by hand.

Driving to his place is different tonight. A few days ago, I told Sean that I was serious with Thomas. In return, he replied that he respected the relationship and was open to hanging out as friends. Easy solution for me; I get to hang out in a swank-ass house, drink great wine, enjoy good conversation, and not have to revive his wonky dick.

And this, my friends, is where it all went to hell.

I began dating Thomas in the summer when I thought Sean was ghosting me (in turn, he insists I ghosted him and I can’t even disagree). He is the opposite of Sean in every way. His life is a hot mess. He makes almost half my salary, which is less than ideal in southern California. Not fully divorced, he lives with his somewhat-soon-to-be-ex-wife in a tiny rental.

Thomas is an empath who loves texting me all day. He speaks about our future with conviction; there is no question that I’m the chick of his dreams. He looks at me with adoration. This guy gets excited when I make up task lists for him to help with my new house (I tend to make them up. I’m capable of replacing an outdoor light but I’m lazy and he’s giddy to help.)

While Sean can barely stay hard for more than a few minutes at a time, Thomas is a fucking porn star. I’ve never met a guy since college who can go four times. Before lunch. His forty-year-old dick didn’t get the memo that it’s supposed to slow down. His empathic side feeds off every breath and moan I make, resulting in the best sex of my life.

Since professing his love for me, Thomas repeatedly asked when we can commit. I kicked the can down the road with the excuse that I wasn’t committing while I lived with my ex-husband.

One day I downed some tequila and laid it all out: it’s not that I’m not girlfriend material as I get my life back on track, it’s that he isn’t boyfriend material because his life is a hot mess. Thomas went from “separated” to “married…again” when his wife moved back in. He doesn’t even make half my salary, which is poverty level (and no excuse for someone with a college degree, career, and an office job).

He rents a ghetto little place for the thrill of living by the beach; I’m past the years of driving around looking for parking when visiting someone. What does he have to show for a lifetime of work? A Jeep with $120,000 worth of upgrades. I threw in my rant that I refuse to ever climb into that vehicle ever again because I’m too old to wear 4" heels and a dress while hoisting myself via a handle to get into a dusty, dirty truck.

The slap in the face kickstarted Thomas to change his life around. He knows I’m right and if I’m his end game, he’s hustling to make changes in all areas of his life. I tried making it clear that I’m not fully committed but I don’t think he’s listening. He’s happy as a clam to focus on improving his life but odds are low he’ll make two decades of improvements in one year.

I have to give him the chance though…right?

Back at Sean’s house, we get tipsy and he asks for my relationship status. I tell him about how I laid the smackdown on Thomas’ life choices. Sean takes that as a probationary period and thus, he’s allowed to kiss me.

I’m a sucker for a guy who confidently gets what he wants from me (in a non-rapey kind of way). I melted. Everything about him is perfect. I was even interested in seeing the fancy water filtration system in his garage, that’s how much I enjoy his company. He has his life together. It’s easy for me to succumb.

The next thing I know I’m on his kitchen counter and he’s licking me for ages. Why? Why now? Sean never did that before. Competition has put this guy on notice.

I’d like to say how it was hot and steamy after that. In reality, it was two hours of being naked in his bed.

Clarification: naked in his bed with 45 seconds of combined total erection. And that’s being generous.

Eventually, Sean calls it quits and says that he’s, “out of practice”. What the actual fuck? I make a mental note to never, ever have sex with him again until his impotent dick problem is resolved.

I hang out for some post-coital small talk and declined his constant requests for me to sleep over. Nah bro, I don’t need you trying at 3 am to bone me. I’d spend more time trying to revive it by dawn than any actual penetration.

Since then, Sean has stepped it up by trying to make plans and message me. It’s frustrating that men only step up their game when there’s a chance of losing someone.

This is only the beginning of the can of worms I’ve gotten myself into with this love triangle. I might need tequila to write more about the hole I’m digging.