I had a threesome with my best friend and her boyfriend.
The morning after I awoke to find her and her boyfriend arguing outside the bedroom door. She was upset, as earlier that morning she was shaken out of sleep to see her boyfriend having sex with me while I lay unconscious on my side. The fact that I was unconscious wasn’t addressed by her in the initial explanation and in no way seemed to be a subject of concern. She was bothered that he was having sex with me outside the context of the threesome without her knowledge.
It was as if someone had slapped me in my sleep. I squirmed slightly from where I sat cross-legged on the living room floor trying to identify any sign leftover from the event. Shifting my hips and leaning back I kept waiting for some part of my body to recognize the actions my mind hadn’t been invited to. It was as though I thought some part of me would whisper, “here, right here is where he pushed his hand. Over here, this is where he rested his leg for leverage.”
Everything felt undisturbed, but nothing was the same. I caught her description of the event in pieces. Her words included “neglected” and “betrayal.”
For the first I understood how much of this was going to be my fault. I could’ve choked on the air while she scolded us for allowing this to happen. His validation: he woke up, saw an ass, and simply followed his natural morning instincts.
I didn’t have an alibi. I didn’t know I’d need one.
Looking at her dead on for the first time since I’d walked in the room the utter disappointment on her face forced me to look away in a shame I didn’t understand. I had authentically expressed my disbelief as they related the story. I’d asked what my reactions were while it was happening because I genuinely didn’t know. Nothing I said was heard. All of this was news to me and yet somehow, without a doubt, I was responsible.
Nobody seemed to care that I had been asleep for the entire duration of the day up until that moment. It didn’t matter that I had given no consent to the sex I was only currently finding out I’d partaken in several hours prior. I flinch when he hugs me hello or nudges me jokingly now, and I see him every day. The blame is sure and unanimous, conscious or not, I had asked for what was given to me.