Timing is everything.

And sometimes mine sucks.

Back in early January I met a guy through eharmony who I was hitting it off with pretty well. He had asked to set up a phone call through the eharmony secure line thing, where you don't know each other's phone numbers; one of you calls in to eharmony to initiate, and the dating site then calls the other at their number and connects you. So we talked that way on our first conversation, and really hit it off. And then we exchanged home phone numbers, and so the second time we talked he called me at home.

Well at the end of our second converation, my phone started beeping, letting me know that the battery was dying. Now I actually have two cordless phones at home, but at the time I only knew where the one was ... I had lost the other sometime the previous week, knew it was in the house somewhere, but also knew the battery had died b/c it no longer rang when the other one rang, and I hadn't yet gotten industrious enough to look hard for it. So anyway, the phone I'm on with this guy starts beeping. I tell him that means it's losing power, and we might get cut off soon. He says no problem, he should probably be going anyway; but could he call me on my cell phone sometime that weekend (I was getting ready to go out of town for the weekend, had already told him that.) I said sure, let me give you the number. It's ...

... and that's when the fucking phone cut off on me. Just before I could give him my cell phone number. I mean, how totally fucking classic is that. I felt bad, too. I thought about my cell phone immediately; but, because this is the way I am (bad about doing things like charging up phone batteries), of course my cell phone battery was dead as well... had been for a full day at that point, and I had yet to charge it back up. So I ran around the house for about 5 minutes, searching for the cell phone charger, hoping to find it so I could plug it in and call him back on my cell phone to give him that number and say a proper goodbye and apologize for cutting off on him like that. But of course, I couldn't find it. And at this point it was almost midnight anyway, we'd been talking kinda late that night. So finally I gave up on the idea of being able to call him back that night, and instead got online and sent him an email. "So sorry my phone cut off on me like that; that totally epitomizes the role of timing in my life, btw. Anyway, here's my cell phone number, call if you get a chance this weekend:" and then I gave him my number. He replied, laughing, said "for a second there I thought you were just trying to get out of giving me your number."

But that wasn't it ... I wasn't trying to get out of anything; I swear, that's just the way things seem to go for me sometimes. Like that first time I ever had phone sex, how I fell out the chair ... that kind of shit happens to me all the time. (For anyone who doesn't remember/never read that story, I think I'll post it again below ... it was pretty fucking funny, good enough to repost I think.)

Well, I've met a few more interesting matches lately, since the time of that first lunch guy (who didn't work out in the end, btw.) Hopefully I'll find someone one of these days who I can have some good times with; that would be refreshingly fun. Oh, btw, I did actually give one of my fairly recent matches a link to my blog ... I know, that was probably a crazy decision, but what the heck, he's fun to talk to, and since he's stationed overseas in the military I figure there's no chance of him stalking me and also he might enjoy a laugh ... I think he's been enjoying checking it out ... so shout out to you, my army man, and hope you enjoy this story too:

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The first time I ever had phone sex, I was pretty shy about it. It was with a guy I was friends with, but not more than friends with (well, not yet, anyway). We flirted with each other a lot. And we had begun having racy conversations over IM. This one night, we were IM'ing, and he typed, "I'm going to call you. I want to hear your voice, I want to do this over the phone." My phone started ringing. "Pick up," he typed. I was so nervous. When I picked up the phone, I could hardly speak. His voice was different; huskier than it usually was. A little shaky, too. Sexually charged. He didn't miss a beat in the conversation though. He told me things, the things he wanted to do to me. And he asked me if I was touching myself, which I was. Finally I worked up the nerve to speak. It was difficult at first; even though I had been so free with him, so bold, over IM, hearing his voice, and speaking my words out loud to him, made me suddenly shy. But the conversation was so heated, and his sexy deep voice, so filled with lust, set me on fire. I leaned back farther in my chair, slid my ass down to the edge of the seat, propped my feet up on an open desk drawer, and spread my legs wider, to give me better access. He kept talking, and I was moaning. I arched my back, leaned back farther, farther, farther . . .

. . . and then I fucking fell over backwards in my chair. "AAAACK!!" I screamed, landing awkwardly on my back, trying to break my fall a bit with my arms, the phone dropping to to the floor and skidding to the opposite side of the room. "Ouch!" I jumped up, darted across the room, scrambling for the phone, which was spinning around in circles on the wooden floor. I picked it up. "What the fuck was that?" he said. "Um, so does it make me less sexy that I just totally fell over backwards in my chair and dropped the phone?" At which point he started laughing hysterically. I couldn't help it, I did too. I mean, talk about smooth moves. There I was trying to be so suave and self-assured and sexually confident, not to mention wildly hot, having phone sex with this incredible guy, and yet my natural klutziness kicked in and ruined that whole image I thought I had going. True to life. But laughter during sex can be great, too. And our laughter was great, and big. But it didn't kill the mood, thank goodness. We were both still turned on as hell. So I just moved over to the couch: a much sturdier and safer piece of furniture for sexual maneuvering. And then my phone lover got me off, and then I got him off.

All in all, despite the incredibly comedic moment where I almost broke my back falling out the chair, it was pretty fucking hot.