I’ll be real with you. I didn’t think I was going to hear from Beardy Tattooey McHunk again after our [last encounter](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5r7cit/fm_had_my_first_booty_call_is_it_still_a_booty/). He’s notoriously bad at communication. Reads messages (thanks, read receipts, you assholes), but doesn’t respond to them. Doesn’t usually contact me first. That sort of thing. So little faith did I have in our hunky friend, that I kind of accepted another offer, and maybe sort of did some stuff with a tradie (that I’ve since repeated. What am I doing?! That’s a story for another day, I think…).
But, lo! A message on Monday night asking me what I’m doing?! It was in garbled drunk-type, but still. I said I’d just had some dinner but wasn’t really doing anything. What was he up to? ‘Im bit drunk. SNt to make out’ was the reply I got. After laughing my butt off for a few seconds, I did what any self-respecting lady would do in a situation such as this and replied, ‘Sure ;) Can you give me twenty minutes though?’ Turns out he was in the city watching some American sportsball thing with his friends (I know it was the Super Bowl, don’t hate on me) and had been drinking all day. He poured himself into a taxi and made his way over, while I hopped in the shower and made myself somewhat presentable. I’d just finished making my bed when he knocked on the door.