I’m In A Love Triangle And Didn’t Even Know It

I’m blind and clueless.

It’s Thursday night. I’m at Sean’s house.

Sean is a guy I dated upon my separation. He’s also a guy who can’t maintain an erection to save his soul, lives in a very wealthy gated community and regularly has me over to drink expensive wine.

We dated casually and then things fizzled out. I had more serious relationships but with nothing formally defined, I still occasionally visited Sean. It’s easy: a chill night of drinking and talking in his swanky house.

The last time I saw him six months ago, I made it clear there that it was staying platonic. I was dating Jeremy and while we weren’t an official couple, I wasn’t going beyond the friend bucket with Sean. That didn’t stop him from trying but I held firm.

Well, Jeremy is gone now. Things aren’t official with Carlos. When Sean asked me to hang out, I agreed.

There’s no way I’m having sex with the guy. An hour of banging means thirty seconds of him pounding and the rest of the time my mouth performing CPR on his dick. I didn’t know how to tell him to take some damn blue pills without bruising his ego if he couldn’t already see that his limp dick was an issue.

I throw on some skinny jeans, a tank top, and I wear a bra underneath (unlike many times in the past when I’d let the girls hang free). Skinny jeans are hard to take off and I’ll tell him I’m on my period.

There’s no plan to tell him things ended with Jeremy. As far as he’s concerned, I’m still in a blissful, happy state. Sigh. A year ago at this time, I was in the aforementioned state.

I show up and remember Sean’s height and frame. The guy is a former college football player. I’m more than a foot shorter than him. When I stand next to Carlos, he’s wider but not very tall. His crazy muscles make him look shorter (I’m not complaining, his muscles are amazing).

He’s got a huge box of his teen boys’ books. Hell yeah, I’ll take the entire Magic Treehouse book series for free and anything else he wants to throw my way. I love free shit.

Sean pours something red into a glass. He doesn’t know me on a very deep level but if in surgery the ER doctor needed to know my alcohol preferences, Sean is the only one I’d trust. His wine collection costs more than my car.

And I bought that damn SUV brand new.

I get tipsy. Throughout my babbling, I mention my weight gain from the last time he saw me. “I was just going to tell you that you look really, really good,” Sean says.

In typical chick style, I brush him off. “I’ve gained a ton of weight but I’m getting fat grafting to my face,” I blurt out.

Sean’s eyes widen. “You’re hot! Don’t fuck up your face!”

I proceed to explain the loss of buccal fat pads in the face and let it slip that it was a knee-jerk reaction after things ended with Jeremy.

“Wait…you promised me you’d tell me if things ended with him,” Sean says.

Fuck. Did I? That sounds like something I’d say to brush someone off. Two years ago, I would have jumped at the chance to make things with Sean.

I babble about not planning on dating anyone, deleting all the apps, but then started dating Carlos as a rebound that turned into something more. “Listen, I didn’t want to step on anything with the last guy because it sounded serious. I don’t feel bad for wanting to kiss you when he’s a rebound,” Sean says while kissing me.

I don’t fight him off. I’m not going to have sex with him and as far as I’m concerned, a quick You’re My Girlfriend sentence during sex doesn’t count as DTR.

“You make the most incredible sounds,” Sean whispers as we’re kissing.

“Wait, what?” I yell and sit up.

“No, no, it’s so sexy. Even the way you breathe…it’s so hot,” he replies. He kisses me again and as I let out a little moan, he pauses to tell me that’s what he means by my sounds.

Uh, okay. Kind of weird and now I’m self-conscious about it.

As we chat throughout the night, my mind is reeling. Why can’t I merge Sean and Carlos into the same person? They’re almost complete opposites in every way.

I mentioned that I’m seeing the Barbie movie a second time. After some talk about how even our sons loved the movie, Sean asks to see it with me because I gushed about its awesomeness. “I’d totally see it again! We could see it in the fancy theater nearby,” I say. I mean, the dude is rich. Damn right he’s going to pay for the fancy theater with reclining seats and wait staff.

Our schedules align in a few days, on Monday. That’s one area that Sean fails: he never took me out on dates. Alright dude, you want to date me? Then woo the fuck out of me and take me out.

I sober up and get my things to drive home. When I toss my stuff in my car, Sean asks if I want to walk around the swanky neighborhood. Sure, I love looking at rich people’s homes that I’ll never afford.

As we walk (me in my sneakers since I didn’t dress sexy and grateful for not wearing heels), I notice how it’s always easy to talk to him. Sean isn’t particularly exciting. But he knows how to keep the conversation flowing. That’s probably the sales exec side of him that’s always ensuring the other person is engaged.

I eventually insist that I need to get home. Sean always walks me to my car, even when it’s in his driveway, like a gentleman. I appreciate it; men don’t understand that even a short walk to a car in an unfamiliar place feels sketchy for women at night.

Once my car pulls away, I start smashing my hands against my steering wheel. “Gahhhhhh!” I yell. Why is this happening? Someone I wanted so badly two years ago wants me now. Someone who was meant to be a rebound wants me now.

And yet I’m tormented by dreams of the one person who doesn’t want me.