Christy,

My buddy, Big Worm, told me that as far as a threesome goes (two girls and a guy) — don't get involved in one. He claims it's a lot of work, a lot to keep track of, a lot of drama and emotions and just not worth it?? He said they are not what everyone thinks and should the seemingly every man's dream ever present itself, to avoid one. As far as you know, is this possibly true? Tell me it is not.

—Really??????

Menage a trois:

Easy, Big Worm's pal. A gentleman shan't ask a lady's pants about their Wild Wild West.

Instead, let's stake out Big Worm's claims. He makes some valid points, but so did the wise old man I chatted with at the bar last night. But then I realized it was a fur coat. Lessons come in all carcasses.

Fantz
Fantz

Let's dissect the threesome of Big Worm's threesomes:

Too much work: All parties have to make sure no wo(man) is left dry. Two of the attendees are likely to get rapture rapt, leaving the third party rubbed out in time out. Remedy: Bring toys so everyone has a playmate.

Too much to keep track of: There are various holes, nobs, jugs and bells to jingle. Who does what? What goes where? Oh, my sciatica. A toe is stuck! The complicated venture requires thrift multi-tasking. Remedy: Map out a game plan. Call in a coach to holler audibles so no party gets the shaft. Or does get the shaft. Throw a ref in the action to flag boring plays.

Omaha!


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Too much drama/too many emotions: Who knows what type of relationship Girl A, Girl B and Big Worm have. Remedy: Have a team meeting prior to the Big Bang so you can cry out emotions and over-the-pants fondle one another. When the day arrives, secure a bench player who's ready to tag in when the weakest link loses his/her shit.

Although I've offered remedies to Big Worm's rebuffing to soothe your lost soul, the best advice I can give you is to go into a threesome single and recruit random partners. Then you can let your freak flag fly and check your feelings at the door. That way, there will be limited emotions — but also unlimited critters. Protect thyself.

Dear Christy,

If I have to hear one more thing about my best friend's new boyfriend I'm going to stab her with my stares.

—So annoyed

Get a grip:

Easy on the violence, tiger. Xanax for ease, Midol for bloat.

You should replace every pronoun she calls him with farm animals — and every activity with bathroom vocab.

"Oh my god, my barn cat got so turned on last night when I went diarrhea."

"After I ride my bull, he likes to wash his butthole out with Zest."

"I like to play Candy Crush on the toilet with my llama."

"Every time I see my pig, I want to shave my beaver."

See? Mad Libs for the inner monologue.

Now go get laid and be happy for your chum. Let her float on Cloud 9 while you stay on Cloud Nimbostratus, damn sour puss.

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