It started with a simple question. “Have you ever had a threesome?” my wife asked during pillow talk one night.
“With two guys and a girl, or with two girls and one guy?” I replied. “Or all guys?” We’re both bisexual, and not ashamed of our encounters with the same sex.
“All guys?” She laughed. “Well, not for me, but what about, like… if we hooked up with Mikkel and Fer?” She finally managed to say.
“I mean… Mikkel is cute but he’s so hetero,” I said.
“Yeah, true. Do you like Fer?” she asked.
I imagined the four of us having sex. Fer is cute, in her own sort of way, but I wasn’t convinced. “Not really. Do you?”
“No.” She sighed. It was hard for us to make new friends since having kids and moving to the suburbs.
“Hey, you remember that guy from my school who moved down here?” I asked. “We were supposed to get a beer and we never did?”
It didn’t ring a bell for her. “Here, I’ll show you,” I said, opening Instagram to your profile. “That’s him and that’s his wife.”