The Night I Found Out I Don’t Like Women

The first time I wondered if I liked girls was in middle school. In religion class of all places. With wild, curly black hair and striking blue eyes, her breasts were the size of grapefruits that ended at a point in opposite directions as she stood in front of my little wooden desk passing back assignments. There were rumors that she wore extra perfume to cover up the stink of cigarettes that she smoked during breaks.

The strong infatuation would come and then pass, gently like a wave, taking away my suspicions with the cafeteria gossip of the day away.

In college, I started to wonder again. But this time, there was no object of my affection, just objects of consternation. Women put much more effort into their looks and careers. Why can’t I just like them instead?

Then came the connection. After a string of lesser paramours with men who didn’t know how to treat a woman right, I once again found myself swiping on Hinge, one of the many dating apps on my home screen.

Usually, a relationship is based on loyalty and commitment, but as I left yet another failed talking stage, I happened upon a Hinge profile of a rather attractive and tall Asian man, a rarity on dating apps. Let’s call him Dan. In his profile, though, he stated that he was not on Hinge to look for a girlfriend. Rather, he and his girlfriend were looking for a third in an arranged menage a trois. I myself have never been in an open relationship. I had thought that a relationship’s point was to be monogamous. But the idea intrigued me because I was a free agent. I wasn’t bound by commitment like those in monogamous relationships were.

I responded to his profile with a Swipe Right and a short message: “YOLO, right?”

A few days later, I receive a notification: You’ve got a Match! and an accompanying message from Dan: “Hey! My girlfriend Amy *not her real name* and I were wondering if you want to meet us for drinks!”

We messaged back and forth while I took great care to refer to our decisions going forward as a group, rather than just me and Dan. I wanted to foster a group mentality, in preparation for the threesome, and not leave anyone out of the conversation or potential sexual activities.

This was my first time seriously pursuing sexual relations with a girl, despite my previous musings. I had only ever been in romantic relationships with men. Or with men who weren’t entirely straight. I understand that sexuality is a spectrum, but not quite as it applies to me.

And while I never had a threesome before, I applied the normal social dynamics of a group to ensure that there was peace among its members and that everyone felt heard. In theory, Dan and Amy’s relationship should have facilitated that between themselves anyway, but because I was the “unicorn”, I took the initiative to make sure at least I didn’t cause any of the jealousy or drama in this little affair.

As I sat down in the semi-circular booths in the swanky sea-themed cocktail lounge tucked away in the Village, I realized that it was one of the weirder situations I had put myself in.

Swigging back free shots from the bartender who undoubtedly knew this was the prequel to the menage a trois, or the main event, we began the strange night by getting to know each other. As you should before engaging in any sexual act.

As we got to know one another more, Amy became happier and happier. But it seemed fake. After learning that I had positive traits beyond my physical attributes, Amy warped into a bundle of insecurity hidden behind a Cheshire cat mask. She threw back drinks too quickly, smiled at me too much, and grimaced every time Dan spoke.

The night progressed and it became clear that Amy and Dan’s relationship had some problems. Issues in communicating unresolved feelings, in particular. It culminated several times into whisper-screams about seemingly normal topics of conversation.

The choice to have a threesome seemed like a symptom rather than another one of their problems. Then all at once, I realized that Dan was the one who wanted sexual relationships beyond his with Amy. And Amy didn’t want Dan to leave the relationship so she partook in the threesomes to keep him in a relationship with her.

I, the third member of the menage a trois, was like a band-aid on their bullet wound of a relationship. It seemed like their way of providing an unrelated solution to several big problems.

But most of all, it became very clear that Amy did not want to have sex with anyone else besides Dan, which included me. And I certainly didn’t want to have sex with someone who didn’t want to have sex with me.

Dan didn’t say much throughout the night, but as we had more espresso martinis and Dan scooted closer to me, Amy drank hers much faster and in rapid succession.

The most striking out of everything I had learned that night was how beautiful Amy was. Blonde hair, dazzling smile. Tall frame, thin figure. She had an excellent fashion sense, picking a dress in the form of a boxy, pastel lime green dress that emphasized her symmetrical features all the more. She was bubbly and smart and thoughtful.

Amy was a great conversationalist, and as far as girls who tolerate their boyfriends who want to stray go, she was excellent. And that night I had the chance to have sex with her but alas, I felt a complete lack of attraction to her.

Despite all her positive physical attributes and personality traits, I felt zero attraction to this girl. If I was a lesbian, I would have asked myself if I was dead. But that’s how I knew I didn’t like girls.

Because here Amy was, the girl of my dreams if I did like women, and I felt nothing. Nothing except platonic love for her. Empathy for her situation. But beyond the friendship I knew we could’ve built if we hadn’t met through Dan, it was like knocking a dead horse.

I did feel something though at the end of the night. Her lukewarm vomit spraying gently onto my shoulder.

Needless to say, when Dan texted me the next morning still asking if I would be interested in a threesome, I didn’t respond. A friendship with Amy would be impossible at this point, given what I’d learned the night before. And Dan became unattractive to me, displaying a lack of empathy towards Amy at the end of the night. He treated Amy badly in her drunk and unconscious state, screaming in indignation about how she was embarrassing him because she, in her drunk state, completely covered the bathroom at the bar with chunky throw-up, as we got kicked out of the bar.

But yep, that’s how I knew I didn’t like women. And further, that I also don’t like men. Because they suck. But, alas, I am still attracted to them.