the interview

there’s another aspect to being a thirtysomething single woman that no one ever prepares you for, but happens all the time.

I am at a party hosted by a couple I know. We are drinking, they are smoking dope, and everyone is smoking cigarettes on the porch so the kiddies won’t be infected when they come home from grandma’s tomorrow. The wife and I start talking, having one of those really good I’m-a-little-drunk-so-I-guess-I’ll-tell-you-all-about-it kind of talks when suddenly, it happens. She starts talking about threesomes. Actually, what she says is that she and her husband have discussed it, and they’ve decided that if they both had someone in mind that they thought was a really beautiful and really special person, they’d “accept her into the marriage.”

So none of this would have fazed me at all, it’s just drunken bullshit as far as I know, until I half turn and realize, her husband has suddenly moved as fast as his big ass has ever moved across the deck to stand about three feet away from us. And he is doing that thing that people do when they are eavesdropping but pretending not to listen. I can tell by his stance, he’s quivering like a horse at the gate, that he is not only listening, he is ready to be on call if requested. A quick glance between the two of them, and I’m removing her hand from my arm, saying I need to run to the bathroom- and instead I ran home. They’re a good looking couple, but anytime a potential new relationship involves the word “they,” I suspect it’s not a good option for the long term.

I don’t what it is about single women in their thirties, well, maybe I do know, but I don’t know how we’re expected to be able to save someone else’s broken down marriage. As if a marriage that “accepts a third person” can really be saved, anyway.

I’ve found that my options here are pretty open. Another time I am on a houseboat and one of my favorite couples of all time, an older hippie couple who host huge festivals on their farm and smoke pot like other people smoke cigarettes are talking to me about camping on their property. I can’t wait; the idea of waking up outside, with the sun rising over the pond and the big blue sky overhead enchants me. I don’t go camping anymore and I miss it a great deal.

They are telling me about organic food, a nightly bonfire and live music, and I am practically swooning when the missus suddenly grabs my arm- “We like you so much, Lisa. So. Much.” Her husband, missing about three of his crooked teeth, gently takes my other arm. “We’ll have a beautiful time.” Shit. I walked right into that one. The other people on the boat heard about it through the houseboat grapevine and laughingly told me if I hadn’t figured out those two were swingers by now, I deserved whatever I got in the pasture.

Well how am I supposed to know? When I prepared for interviews after college, I only read a bunch of stupid books that forewarned me of standard questions to anticipate and gave me a bunch of useless advice to follow.

I’d like to rewrite those interview advice books to be more applicable to my life- a book that I could have got a lot of use out of, as it turns out:

  • Turn your weaknesses into strengths. How about the other way around? Instead of always coming off like some balls-out sex kitten, what if I start telling everyone the truth: I really just like to lie there. Seriously. I don’t want to do any work at all in bed.
  • Shake each interviewer's hand and thank each interviewer by name. This one’s pretty good actually. I guess instead of blushing and stammering and looking wildly for an emergency exit, I could make direct eye contact, shake their hands and thank them profusely for asking to have sex with me. “Thanks, John. Thanks, Liz. I’ll keep it in mind and give you a call when something opens up.”
  • Send a thank you note as soon as possible after the interview. I never sent thank you notes to anyone who interviewed me. Screw that- I called and reminded them why I was a good fit for the job. But in the case of a potential threesome, maybe a thank you note is just the ticket. I’ll have a friend write up the cards, and they’ll read something like this:
“Dear Jessica and Dave:

Thank you again for taking the time to talk to me about the opening in your marriage. I look forward to the time when I can drive a wedge between the two of you, further severing your already weak marital bond.

I can’t wait to hear more from you about the position, er, positions and the specific “job” Dave mentioned he had in mind for me.


The Most Misunderstood Person You’ve Ever Met.

p.s. If I’m going to be involved in the marriage, Dave needs to throw out all of his Dockers. I hate Dockers.”