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I dated a guy back in my days in Santa Barbara. Let’s call him Paul. We met at a party my friend hosted for an occasion that currently slips my mind. Actually I can’t even remember the exact location of the house.

We were playing this drinking game called Moose. It involved a quarter, an ice cube tray and a pitcher filled with a bit of everything we were drinking and a quarter. He kept on forcing me to drink, and at one point I muttered something stupid like, “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

We both decided to go out for a smoke and instantly hit it off. Next thing I know his tongue was down my throat and we were starting a torrid love affair. Sort of.

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There were times when the sex was absolutely mind blowing. Just looking at him would get me aroused, and we would end up in a big heaping pile of sweat and bones. Then there were the times that looking at him would make me a little queasy. I would ask myself, “I’m dating THAT?!”

Needless to say we didn’t last a month.

I’m sure you’re wondering how this relates to the Dodgers.