While in Los Angeles, my partner and I booked a hotel room and decided to have an orgy.
Before everyone arrived, we reorganized the entire hotel room and bought snacks.
Everyone canceled, but we still ended up having a threesome orgy and celebrating open relationships.
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It was my partner’s first time in Los Angeles. Even though we had the option to stay at my parents’ place in South Central LA, we both felt it would be too far. There’s so much more to see than just the 110 freeway.

We decided to book a hotel room at a chic spot over on Third Street next to the Beverly Center. And yes, I’m aware that these past few sentences are painfully Californian.

Admittedly, I was apprehensive about staying somewhere other than my parents’ house, but then a brilliant idea struck me: “Edson, you could host an orgy sex party in your hotel room!”

But it didn’t pan out how I thought it would.

We had to reorganize the hotel room after planning the sex party.
I’m not an apt planner, but when it comes to congregating tops in a singular place, I’ll make ends meet. My partner, on the other hand, is an incredible planner. To paint a better picture, he used a 3D modeling app to map out the furniture in our apartment when we moved in together, so I trusted this man with my life.

My partner had been chatting with some guys on the apps, and I did the same. After setting up a group chat on Grindr, we had about eight or nine guys on deck.

“Edson, I don’t think we can fit that many guys in our hotel room,” my partner said.

The configuration of our room felt like a hipster grandma’s attic: cluttered and exclusively comprised of pieces from Anthropologie. Our bed had a rattan headboard and was nestled underneath the French-style windows, which presented our first obstacle for the orgy.

“Easy fix. Let’s just open the windows so no one bonks their head,” my boyfriend posited.

In the center of the room, there was a giant post-modern dining table with two velvet chairs. A lightbulb on a rope hung dangerously close to where people would sit — the uvula of the room. I could see the wheels turning in Bob the Builder’s eyes. He promptly yanked the uvula to make way for more headroom.

We moved our suitcases away from the western wall and pushed the table against the wall instead. My partner suggested this could be where our guests place their belongings or where we could hoist ourselves on all fours. This was the best idea since reversible jackets.

Then, we both simultaneously stared at the chairs. What does one do with obtrusive yet gorgeous high-end furniture during an orgy? Well, one orients them side-by-side to create a make-shift sex bench.

But if there’s anything we’ve learned from hosting dinner parties at our house, it’s that gays love snacks. So, before our guests arrived, we drove to Target and bought the queer necessities: a bag of tangerines, tortilla chips that weren’t too salty, and champagne that was on sale. We emptied the jars of Keurig pods to fill them with chips and waited until 9 p.m. For everyone to arrive to our fun orgy sex party.

Patience is a virtue when it comes to a sex party.
My partner and I waited. 9:30 p.m. — no one. 10 p.m. — losing out on all hope. It was around 10:15 p.m. When the flood of messages came pouring through. One of my partner’s suitors got food poisoning. Another went radio silent. My friend got caught up unrolling a huge rug in his new apartment. And there was the stranger who I added to the group chat who wished us luck, sharing that he’d be going to another orgy party instead. Hopefully, they had tangerines there.

As we were putting our snacks away in defeat, my phone vibrated.

“U guys still hanging?” asked a number I hadn’t saved. He introduced himself as a friend of Rug Man and said he told him about our soiree. We exchanged photos, and we invited him over.

Three is better than nine.
Even though we had gone from a ninesome to a threesome, my partner and I were determined to make the most of our new digs. We heard a knock on the door and welcomed our fateful friend to the grand foyer. He put his stuff down on the reoriented dining table, grabbed a glass of champagne and a tangerine, and sat down in the dual seating and partial orgy time area.

Frankly, it was one of the best threesomes I’ve ever had. Of course, having a total stud — albeit someone who is quite literally a referral — come and join us made it enjoyable.

But what made the night unforgettable was having a shared experience with my partner. Not only did we brainstorm on optimal spacing together, but we also talked openly and freely about our intentions for the orgy night. Funnily enough, Rug Man’s friend had recently gotten married, and all three of us talked about the beauties and complexities of open relationships. For a night that was meant to be filled with men, it was one that was instead filled with memories.