We'd been seeing each other for a little while. It was a strange situation. We both had some baggage, and if you know me, you know it takes a lot to draw me out. But I was finally starting to get comfortable with her. I was letting myself believe that there was something here.
One night, when it felt right, I took a deep breath, and in one long monologue that felt as clumsy as it was rehearsed, I said (to the best of my recollection):
"Look, I know I'm doing everything I'm not supposed to do. I'm not supposed to be the one to say this first.
"And maybe it's too soon to say this to you. You know how some people throw it around like they're saying hello, to people they barely know? I'm not like that. It takes a lot to get me to say it. I hardly ever say it. I can't remember the last time I've said it to someone and meant it.
In fact, I don't think I've even said it to my mother.
All I know is, I don't care. I want you to know:
I would love to have a three-way with you and your best friend."