Remember those shoebox mailboxes you made for Valentine’s Day in elementary school? Remember how you would stay up past 8 o’clock the night before, sorting boxes of candy hearts for each cutie in your classroom? Ever end up one treat short, and two little sweethearts volunteered to share your candy? Good, you see where this is going. This V-Day, I invite you to rekindle that sharing spirit. It’s time to have a threesome.

It’s been nearly every human male’s deepest fantasy, since ancient mathematicians discovered two was greater than one. Unfortunately for him, behind every man barbarically muttering the words “Me… want… threesome,” there’s a woman rolling her eyes and telling him to pull his tongue back into his mouth before he dribbles on her Louis Vuitton.

It’s not our fault, guys. If we must choose a culprit, we can blame the harsh reality of anthropological gender differences. A man’s biological mission in life is to spread his seed far and wide. If he must drag 15 women into his den (er… dorm room) at the same time, then by golly — in the name of efficiency — he’ll do it.

On the other hand, this doesn’t fly with the innately monogamous female. She is a creature of security, conditioned to protect her circle — put simply, make sure her baby daddy is staying the fuck put.

Threesomes go against everything her child-rearing ancestors have trained her to believe. But gentlemen, I’m here to say that may not be the whole story.

Truth is, many girls have a bi-curious beast roaring to get out. But while they may fantasize almost as much as you do about giving you head between another girl’s tits, they’re aching for an answer to the emotional conflict it poses. In other words, she wants to have her cake and eat it too, but she’s scared that the cake will enjoy fucking other cake so much that it loses all interest in the taste of her frosting.

Is there a way around this fear? As a girl who’s ridden the love tricycle, I’m proof that it’s all in the asking… and if that’s successful, the execution. Speak and act in ways that inspire her confidence in you, and you just may get the threesome you’ve always dreamed of — minus bruised feelings, bruised egos and potentially bruised balls.

If you’re any of the guys I’ve dated, surely you’ve learned that tactlessness will get you as far as the front door. Case in point #1: During foreplay, Mr. Gimme-Now (name withheld to protect douchebag’s privacy) would whisper sweet nothings like “do you and your roommate like to share other things besides shoes?”

No. Case in point #2: Mr. Cry-About-It, the oblivious ex-boyfriend, who used guilt as his tactic of choice. “If you loved me you would!” Tear, sniffle, no.

And then along came Mr. Brilliant (name withheld to protect future mind-blowing sex). He noted my insatiable appetite and experimental nature, yet rather than popping the big question before the first hand job, he waited long enough to also learn of my sensitive side. Minding everything, he cautiously proposed, “if you don’t like this idea, I’ll never bring it up again. But wouldn’t it be fun to have an accessory in bed? It’d be just us two, fully focused on each other, yet with an extra something to explore.” My wariness was more than apparent, to which he responded, “you’re uncomfortable. Never mind.” But time let my mind wander, and soon curiosity overwhelmed me. I agreed, but with a set of firm boundaries and one very simple rule: only I could call the shots.

I soon found myself a trembling corner of a human triangle, calling shots… sheepishly. But Mr. Brilliant followed every cue, well, brilliantly — never dropping eye contact nor leaving me out.

His attentiveness ignited me, and soon I was shooting orders that would raise Jenna Jameson’s eyebrows. We sent our guest home exhausted and, barely conscious, we marveled at our sheer spontaneity.

Whatever flavor your triple scoop — girls on guy, guys on girl, or same-sex, the Golden Rule remains the same: Respect each other and respect yourselves. If things get too sticky, there’s never any harm in taking a rain check or deciding it’s not for you.

And for the thrill-seeking ladies, Mr. Brilliant and I are accepting applications.