From Non-Target to Threesome

Friday night.

I'm at the club, grinding on two fine NYU specimens, one is my date and the other told us her name was Chloé. I peer over my shoulder and cringe at the desperate frat boys, raising vodka for the sober women, oblivious to the fact that chicken-legs and chubbies don’t go hand-in-hand. I wondered if desperation had an expiration date, they were crowding my dance floor.

I asked for my date's phone number on the subway earlier that day. Tall, thin, tanned, and half-Asian. She informed me she was from Hong-Kong, and is graduating from NYU next spring with a degree in dance. But it wasn't Lucy Liu who captured my attention that night, it was the blonde who we met 5 minutes ago, she could easily be on the cover of Victoria's Secret and maybe even under the cover of my sheets.

The masses start to show and the dance floor gets humid. A fat chick grabs my ass and my date starts a confrontation. I whisper in Chloé's ear that i'd love to leave with her, and inform her we should exit before the exodus, after all it was getting pretty late. We navigate through the masses, dodging awkward fobs, fat Amy dancing on the bar table, Snoop Dog lighting a joint in the corner, and a hurricane of low-tier finance bro's dressed like Gotti's crew.

About half an hour later we find ourselves on a random street in Chelsea, we had spent the time chatting about her entire life and I thought it was time I brought my due-diligence to a close. I halt a cab and give him the directions to my apartment, meanwhile Chloé is busy fondling my dice. I manage to contain her excitement till we step inside my bedroom, I promptly excuse myself for a whiz.

I'm yawning over the toilet seat and having a hard time unloading from the ICBM that has taken center stage, i begin taking proper controlled bursts just as I was thought by my dad the ex-marine. My phone vibrates and I pull it out of my pocket, it's a text from Lucy Liu.. a guilty feeling rushes into my chest.

"Lrts go hpme baby" sent 40 minutes ago
"Wait wtf.. whevre are you guys!?!" sent 15 minutes ago

My sympathy fell off a cliff and I exited messenger, opened up Venmo and paid her for the entrance fees. I added a 20% tip for being a great wing woman and tossed my cellphone into the bathtub.

As I walk toward my bed, I could see Chloé had already made herself comfortable. I let out a chuckle and recited the saying from the movie Slum Dog Millionaire "God is good Jamal.. God is good", and even better I was about to obliterate his masterpiece. As i'm taking off my dress shirt, the broad mutters something I couldn't comprehend. "What?" and she mutters it again, "Whaat?" She leans closer to my ear and asks me to take down my poster of the future president of America. I asked her why, but if I could have seen into the future, I would have been able to save my ear that fell off from an overdose of vitamin feminism and NYU privileged malarkey.

Chloé is now yelling at me and telling me to just do her. But instead I toss her off my bed and make her promise that unless she votes for my candidate, then she's not getting the Don. Her phone vibrates and it's fucking Lucy Liu who unfortunately did not get the memo.

"id be down for a 3some.. can u ask (insert my name) to reply plz"

A grin blows up on Chloé's face as she paints the Asian a picture of how terrible a human being I am because I won't remove a poster from my wall. I've had enough and I head towards my drawer, pull out my woodford reserve, and splash some Creapure to add density to the drink and myself. What ensues was fucking beautiful and less an hour later I had my first threesome. A couple months earlier, I was incredibly sad accepting my diploma with this fact, but it's better late than never.. right?