March 2, 2009 I “met” Paul. You see, I’d posted a blog on the now defunct Dangerous Liaisons about it being my birthday and Paul decided that he would send me an email wishing me a happy birthday. It was sweet and nice and not even remotely perverted.
From there we traded emails back and forth and began chatting while he was at work and I was at home attempting to figure out what to do with my life since I’d walked away from academia. We’ve chatted about everything I think though there was a lot of flirtatious double entendres and some not so subtle things exchanged between us we’d never spoken until this summer.
Paul finally finagled my phone number after some coaxing. We talked for hours that first night. And the next if I’m not mistaken. And every conversation since then. We’ve talked politics, the differences in our countries (did I mention he lives on the West Coast of the US?), food, everyday life, etc. Of course we’ve also had some pretty hot phone sex.
We’d joked for a long time that if we were ever in the same area we’d have to get together to have sex. Well as we’ve discovered in the last 2 years…we’re not going to ever coincidentally be in the same place at the same time so the idea of visiting came out. An international, cross-continent, booty call if you will.
He was on my coast but it wasn’t a good time for me. So then I started suggesting times for me to fly out to see him. One of those weekends was Labour Day. When I proposed it to him, his response was,
Well I can’t. It’s my Fantasy Football draft that weekend.
Now everyone, let that sink in. Hot girl (me) offers to fly out to see you with full intentions of fucking you until you can’t get out of bed and you blow her off for Fantasy Football.
Fine, I let it go, not without a lot of ribbing about being shot down and how much he was going to regret it.
Labour weekend comes and his dumbass comes to the realization that Fantasy Football is not better than sex. To compound the issue, he didn’t realize it was a holiday here in Canada too so when we spoke that Monday afternoon he was really kicking himself. It’s hilarious to me really. I thought I’d been clear that I would be off too but apparently, according to him, I wasn’t. I’ll accept that, there’s a good chance I just assumed he knew. I forget people don’t always know everything about Canada.
Now dear readers, would you ever pass up sex for your Fantasy Football draft?