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The Boyfriend came over to get his car after work tonight, since he'd ended up staying here yesterday. I was sitting at the table eating ravioli when he came in. I am a great believer in the power of ravioli. Almost nothing is so bad that ravioli can't make me feel better. Not that I needed pasta therapy today, but ravioli is good even when everything is already fine. Maybe even better. I even shared.
After we finished eating, we sat on my bed and watched a little Must See TV. Will and Grace made me laugh. Grace's old boyfriend came to town and tried to convince her to join him and his new girlfriend in a threesome. If you've ever seen Will and Grace, you know how unlikely that is.
Perhaps I laughed a little too vigorously about it. Or perhaps Chris's comment about Grace's boyfriend needing some of Steve's punch was a little too pointed. But the Boyfriend raised an eyebrow at me and left me in a rather questionable spot.
A few years ago, my friends Dicky and Michelle got married. We all had a very good time at the wedding. My friend Jen, who is also the Artboy's ex-girlfriend, removed all our bras and a few of the guys' shirts as well. The photographer took some very funny pictures of all our faces surrounding the pile of undergarments. There was much wine flowing through the crowd.
After the reception ended and Dicky and Michelle had set off for their honeymoon, we caravaned to Erica's grandmother's house, vacant and right around the corner.
The rest of the night has been affectionately termed "The Night that Never Happened." If I ever meet any of you face-to-face, I'd deny the rest of this story to the end of time.
Steve made punch in the kitchen, an evil concoction containing way too much alcohol and so much fruit punch you can't taste anything else. I was awfully drunk, and just kept drinking.
Adam brought a video camera. The tape, which we all agree doesn't exist, shows a crowd of people getting awfully friendly. I kissed the Artboy. I kissed Adam. Erica kissed everyone but the Artboy. There's a good two minute segment dedicated to Erica and Jen making out against the counter. At one point, Jen pulled my dress up over my head to show the camera my tattoo.
Eventually, thankfully, Adam and his video camera left. So did a couple other people. Those of us left--Erica, Steve, Jim, Jen, the Artboy and myself--settled down in the living room to watch The State on video.
(The Artboy had harbored a fascination for a long time at the thought of ending up in bed with me and another woman. One night, he'd gone so far as to half-jokingly make a list of girls he thought would be willing to participate. I asked him if Jen was on the list, since she's been known to kiss everyone, anywhere, drunk or not. He said, "No, not Jen. You're not her type." I didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted.)
Sitting in front of the TV with my punch glass again refilled, by either Jen or the Artboy, both of whom had set out to keep me drunk all night, I became aware slowly that the hand caressing my leg didn't belong to the Artboy. It was Jen's. I was rather fascinated. Did she think I wouldn't notice?
The State over, we settled down in our sleeping bags. We started off in boy-girl-boy-girl formation (Erica on the end, then Steve, then Jen, then Jim, then me and the Artboy, but Jen climbed over Jim and resituated herself at the end. As people drifted off to sleep, the Artboy started kissing me again. Slowly, I realized one of his hands was on Jen. One of her hands was still on me.
A lot of what happened that night is lost in a punch fog. I know that eventually, I ended up between the Artboy and Jen. I know that my dress was way up around my shoulders, and that there were lots of hands in lots of places. I know that I touched parts of Jen I never expected to touch on another woman. I know that through my drunk haze, I enjoyed myself.
I also know that the three other people in the room all witnessed at least part of what happened between the three of us that night, and that the people who left before it happened all know about it anyway. Even odder in retrospect, I know I didn't care. It's become something of a joke between us all. Steve's mix was renamed "Lesbian Punch." He's been forbdden to ever make it for a party I'll attend again.
Alcohol is an amazing thing sometimes.
Fast forward again to this evening in my bedroom.
The Boyfriend knows some bare bones minimum information about what happened that night. He knows I kissed Jen. I've never told him the rest.
Tonight, he asked what I was laughing at. He questioned Chris's comment.
I don't know quite how to respond to that. It's not exactly one of those conversations you ever plan to have. "So, have I ever told you about my threesome experience?" Not sure how well that would go over.
In the end, I said nothing. I figured he wouldn't push. Because, there are some things you just don't really want to know.
Aren't there?
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