My boyfriend and I had been dating for two months when I told him I was bisexual. He was supportive but, upon reflection, a little too enthusiastic about the news.
A few weeks later, he surprised me with a romantic weekend away. He shared no details of the trip with me, only that he had planned something special for us. I was really looking forward to the trip. He still lived with his parents, so I was excited about spending some alone time with him. We were staying a few hours away on the coast and were halfway through the drive when things took an unexpected turn.
He told me he had planned a surprise for us and couldn’t wait any longer to tell me what it was: he had hired a sex worker and had paid for her company for the evening. She would be joining us later that night for a threesome.
I was shocked. My excitement for a fun weekend away turned into something completely different. Although I was attracted to women, I didn’t know how I felt about bringing another woman into our relationship. He hadn’t asked me if I would be open to that kind of thing or even discussed the idea of having a threesome with me. My boyfriend had arranged for a sex worker without my consent.
I felt so betrayed and uncomfortable. I had opened up about my sexuality because I wanted to be open and honest with my partner. And he had fetishised it and turned it into an opportunity to fulfil a sexual fantasy of his own. He never considered discussing this with me or asked how I might feel about being confronted with something that had taken me years to come to terms with.
He then admitted that he had always wanted to have a threesome, and he was so happy to be able to live out his fantasy finally. My heart sank as I realised that this was not a romantic getaway with my boyfriend, but an attempt for him to take me away from his parents’ house and pay someone to “entertain” us.
I barely said another word for the rest of the trip. He kept telling me that he had always wanted this, so I felt guilty for not being more excited. The closer we got to our destination, the more I dreaded what was about to happen.
We had almost arrived when he received a call from a private number. “This will be her,” he said. I connected the dots and realised that the “her” he was referring to was the sex worker.
“Yeah, sure, I can put her on,” he said before passing the phone to me.
“She wants to speak to you first to make sure you consent to everything,” he explained.
I’m embarrassed to admit that at that moment, I felt pressure to be this fun and exciting bisexual girlfriend who couldn’t wait to share her new boyfriend with another woman. I felt guilty for not being excited. Honestly, I wasn’t opposed to the idea of having a threesome at some point in our relationship, but not like this.
It had taken me years to come out because I didn’t think that anyone would take my bisexuality seriously. Although I’d always been attracted to both sexes, I’d never dated a woman before. I felt like a fraud and that people would think I was just trying to get attention. So, I kept it to myself for years. When I finally came out, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted. I still feel insecure at times, but embracing my sexuality has mostly been empowering.
"I should have been ecstatic about having a threesome, too, right?"
Although, in the car with my boyfriend and on the phone with the sex worker, I felt like he was using my sexuality to project his own threesome fantasy onto me—and I didn’t want to let him down. Besides, I should have been ecstatic about having a threesome, too, right?
The sex worker told me that she only accepted couple bookings after speaking with both people in the relationship to make sure they were on the same page. She wouldn’t go through with it if she felt something was off. She asked me about my experience with women, which was slim at the time, adding to my insecurities about my sexuality. After speaking for a few minutes, we ended the call. I felt sick to my stomach.
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Meanwhile, my partner already had a hard on. The next minute, he received a text message from the sex worker. Without any explanation, she told him she was cancelling the booking. I was relieved. “What did you say to her?” he demanded, seemingly forgetting that he had been sitting beside me the entire time. “I don’t know!” I said. “Maybe she could tell I was nervous or something.”
To say he was disappointed is an understatement. He was in a horrible mood the entire weekend, as he clearly blamed me for missing out on his threesome fantasy. I confessed to being relieved because I wasn’t ready to bring someone else into our relationship, which only seemed to frustrate him more. It was obvious that the sex worker was the real reason behind the trip. But I couldn’t have cared less at this point. I was just happy not to have to perform for my boyfriend.
Obviously, the relationship didn’t last and I’ll never know if the sex worker had clued onto the fact that this was not going to be a consensual threeway. Whatever the reason, I’ll forever be grateful—and to be honest, looking back maybe she was my type of girl.
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This article originally appeared in Issue 01 of Cosmopolitan Australia. Get your copy and subscribe to future issues here.
