My First Threesome

Dual Induction Massage my hairy white ass.

Ironic, really. I'd just spent the morning monkeying around Edinburgh, and I'd bought a book on philosophy and a new copy of Neil Strauss's The Game, having given my original away as a present to a clueless chum. It was still early afternoon, so I dropped in to a pub I used to work at on Edinburgh's Royal Mile. I bumped into a friend of mine, Richard, who is a natural player of real talent and panache, and we sat outside at a table, smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and shooting the shit.

A couple, Daniel and Sarah (friends of Richard), sat with us, and after a while the topic turned to the books I was reading. The book on philosophy drew the predictable derisive accusations of pretention, which in all fairness I agree with. Most books on modern philosophy are only useful if you're fresh out of toilet paper, so we all had a chuckle about that.

Then Richard started ripping on me for reading The Game. He'd never read it (and in all fairness he doesn't need to), and in classic alpha style he starts trying to belittle me in an amusing and charming way over these "tricks" and "techniques" that I'm allegedly into. I don't even remotely rise to it, I just talk about Strauss, Mystery, and the story of the book. I also talked, lightly but genuinely about how it changed my life, which it did. I spoke briefly about the kind of guy I was a year ago when I'd walked away from a relationship I really cared about with an awesome girl. I explained that it was because I knew that the attraction, the electricity - whatever name you want to stick to that spark of magic that had drawn us together in the first place - had gone and I had no idea how to bring it back. All I could do was jump, before I was pushed. Sometimes I still miss her, but I didn't tell them that. I never tell anyone that.

I mentioned in passing about how I'd sworn to myself that I'd never walk away from someone I loved again, but I had no idea how to beat the insecurities with women that had dogged me my whole life. Then I read The Game.

Richard's comments on routines also didn't bother me because I personally find the free-form, genuine and sexually expressive ideas of Juggler and Gunwitch to be far more in tune with my personality. All this time, I'm just being open. I'm just being genuine. I don't give a fuck what they think. Nonetheless, I decide to have a chuckle and start telling them about Style's Dual Induction Massage routine. At this point, Daniel perks up. Even Richard looks interested, and a flash of playerish respect whispers across his chiseled face for Strauss's manipulative genius.

Sarah starts to get stroppy, not at me - she's smiling at me - but at her boyfriend who's getting altogether too excited at the possibility of engineering a threesome with two random girls.

All this time, the beautiful sound of girlish laughter is rising from the table next to me. Whoever they are they're having fun. I don't look around. There's no need to. Not yet.

Sarah stands to leave, and she squeezes my hand slightly as she shakes it. I nod imperceptibly, and then give Daniel a megawatt smile and a handshake. He returns my grip, oblivious. They leave.

Richard's also heading off, and I'm not going to stop him. I have work to do.

So there I am. Sitting in the smoking area. Socially proofed by three friends, but now alone with my book. The book makes me look normal. Intellectual even, if you believe women read that far into things. But then of course, I'm not reading. I'm listening.

Every now and then, an opener is handed to you on a plate. It's so easy. It's not just an opening line, but also a chance to demonstrate some real personality, humour and worth. There are four hot American girls. One of them is talking about Blackadder.

"No," One of them says, "It's the funniest show ever!"
I turn around.
"Are you talking about Blackadder?" I ask.
"Yeah." The girl says. She's pretty. Grungy, a bit of a rock chick. Looks like Lori Petty from Tank Girl.