The Number Three

So, I was thinking about what day three should offer.  And, I was reminded of a time when the number three and all its potential came at me hard and fast without any warning.

I live in a nice neighborhood on a great street and have mostly good neighbors.  I have been in this house for 13 years.  For the first 8 of those years, I lived here with my two young sons.  I worked outside of the home.  Sometimes the single parent thing sucked...like when I realized there was no milk at 10:00 at night.  Kids were too little to leave alone for the ten minutes it would take to go get milk so we just worked around it the next morning.  Mostly, I didn't mind the single parent thing.  I was good cop and bad cop and you didn't get to go ask Dad if I had already said "no."  So, we made our way through the months and years and fared pretty well.  I am close to my family so most weekends we would hang out with them.  My best friend lived up the street, so we would go there for dinner often. 
There were not many suitors in those years.  (see single Mom with two little kids and no milk above).  Life was busy and I hadn't chosen so well in that department, so I mostly just played Mom.  If  I did happen to meet someone with whom I might want to spend some adult time (Read: naked), I was wise enough to reserve that for the weekends the boys weren't home.  (I know, I know, that doesn't really deserve any real kudos.  I mean come on, who has sleep overs with new boyfriends with little kids home?  Duh.)  Anyway, I guess the lack of suitors was noticed by the neighbors.  Or at least by the neighbors just across the street.  Couple in their mid 30's, nice enough.  I am changing their names to protect the not-so-innocent.
One day, I am out front in the garden and I hear, from across the street, some very loud adult time noises.  It is a little weird but I just try to ignore it.  Well, it gets louder and louder and goes on for forever!  Long enough that I moved to the backyard because...well because it was just weird.  I am all for having a great time...but would you mind closing the windows, folks?
My opinion of them really didn't change much.  Still nice folks.  With quite the stamina.  A few weeks later, it is mid afternoon and I am out front in the garden again.  Bob (not his real name) waves and walks over.  We make small talk.  Sit on the stoop and just chat.  He says that Sally (not her real name) was in Columbus for a baby shower.  The boys are riding their bikes up and down the street.  He says, "Hey, I was going to grill some burgers.  Why don't I bring my grill out front and we can eat together?"  That little weird feeling in the pit of our stomach is one not to ignore.  We get it for an important reason. I got that feeling.  But, because I am a chicken shit people pleaser, I say, "OK.  I have macaroni and cheese and I will make a salad."  "Great!" he says, heading back across the street.
He brings out the grill and the picnic table.  We are out where everyone can see, so I just choose to ignore the little nagging feeling that this is weird?  I haven't said more to them than a few sentences-just neighbor talk-and now we are eating burgers together.  The kids didn't seem to think it was weird.  We ate.  Made small talk.  The boys go back to their bikes.  As we are cleaning up the plates, Bob says, "Can I ask you something?"  Uh oh.  DAMMIT!  "Sure, " I answer, playing it cool.
"Sooo, do you like women?" he asks.
"Do you mean like them like them?"  (as if I am 12).
 "Yeah.  That is what I mean.  Because my wife and I are both very attracted to you."
WOW.  Did not see that one coming.
"Errrrrr," is all I can manage to get out.  Christ, where are all of the other neighbors?  Why isn't anyone walking their dog?  
"We have used the internet to find girls for threesomes and often they don't look like their picture or they are total weirdos.  We thought you might consider a threesome with us?"
OK...I get it.  As I mentioned, there had not been a lot of men come a courtin'.  But come on, does that make me a good threesome candidate?  Wouldn't there be some other behaviors that I should be exhibiting that would indicate to you that I like to jump into marital beds?
"Ummmmm.  No thank you." I say in my most polite voice.
"What?  Why?  Are you not attracted to us?" he asks. He seems seriously offended.
Well, honestly, it was something that had never entered my mind. How do I answer that? 
"Look.  Tell me you will just think about it.  Here is the deal.  We would take you out to dinner to, you know, kinda' go over the rules.  Sally has had some trouble in the past and gets kinda' jealous so we thought if we talked about what was OK and what wasn't, it would best, " he explains.  As if he wants to teach me the rules of some new board game?
Some trouble with jealousy?  I can actually see how that would be the case when you are doing whatever it is you like to do to the third person in your bedroom.
"There are just a couple of things that aren't OK.  But, we would go over that at dinner.  Oh, and we would buy dinner.  And then come back here afterwards if, you know, everyone agreed to the rules," he says very calmly.

My mind is racing.  Rules?  What the Hell kind of rules are there in threesomes?  No goats?  No fire?  Only rubber sheets?  No cuddling?  Hey, dickhead, I think it is safe to say you to have noticed that I haven't gotten a lot of action over the last few years.  I may be a little rusty on the romance rules?  And, even though I am all for consenting people doing whatever they want to do, a threesome is not my thing.  (In hindsight, had they looked like Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner...maybe it would have not seemed so yucky?)

"So, will you think about it?  I am supposed to call Sally and let her know your answer."
OK, weirdo.  You two planned this conversation.  EEEEEEEWWWWWW.

"No.  My answer is no.  But thank you," I say, remembering my manners as I walk away back to the safety of my own home...with a dead bolt on the door.

I tell my Dad the next morning.  He is laughing and laughing.  He says, "I can't believe you didn't go to dinner?  You have to go to dinner?!?!?!   You have to find out what the rules are?!?!?!  This story would be so much better if you could add the rules!!!!!!"
Really, Dad, your selling your daughter to the weirdo neighbors so that you can tell a great story instead of just a good one.

Bob and Sally never looked at or spoke to me again.  They moved away about a year later.  Someone told me that they got divorced.  I wasn't surprised.