My girlfriend, Tori, knew everything about me, including what happened the night I met the Greek God at the auction. I have always said that Tori and I have to stay best friends, no matter what—we have too much on each other to be enemies. She knows me better than anyone else, which is why when she suggested that I call the Greek God, I decided to listen to her.
After a long conversation with Tori, I decided to text the Greek God instead of calling him. This sparked a texting conversation that lasted through the evening. I waited for the right time and dropped the hint that I would be free for the next several weeks. It didn’t take long for him to pick up on my hints, and he suggested I attend a party as his guest. He also proposed that I bring along a girlfriend. The party was still a few days away. He said he would have his people call my people, so to speak, to make the arrangements. I was excited. I immediately called Tori and told her to pack. I knew she would be ready at a moment’s notice—she never said no when I asked her to travel with me.
A few days later, Tori and I landed in the Greek God’s hometown. We settled into our hotel and prepared for the party. The Stetson man wasn’t able to receive calls—it turns out that there isn’t much cell service along the Rhine River. I wasn’t sure what to think. Instead, I decided to enjoy this time as a single girl. I often wonder if things might have turned out differently if the Stetson man and I had been able to speak while he was away. My imagination was running away with me. I was afraid the barber he cheated on me with might be along for the trip with him.
The Greek God’s party was at a local restaurant. It was nice, but nothing out of the ordinary. He came over and exchanged pleasantries with me and Tori, and we settled into a night that would forever be remembered.
The first thing I thought when I saw this man for the first time that night at the auction was that he was as gorgeous as a living, breathing Greek God. He had a chiseled jawline and square shoulders. He was tall, well put-together, and did he ever smell good. He was seated at a very long table with about 20 people. It was clear that the men with him were all ball players, and not just any players—they were a pro team along with all of their groupie girlfriends who were either sitting near or on their laps. I looked at my girlfriend in amazement. This was certainly a livelier group of people than I’d been spending time with while with the Stetson man.
Immediately, I realized this man was going to be my replacement sugar daddy for the Stetson man. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a fact, and I was going to make it happen. The Greek God being married at this point didn’t matter to me any longer. My happiness was all that mattered to me now, and I was in survival mode.