The Booty Call I Won’t Call

G.W.W.E.: Robert "Bite Me" PattinsonG.W.W.E.: Robert "Bite Me" Pattinson
The Weekly Wrap Up: Bring On July!The Weekly Wrap Up: Bring On July!

booty call

A few months ago, while visiting the parentals for break, I hooked up with a friend of a friend. And it was awesome. He was hot, he was funny, and he had a visible six-pack. Yes, that was the first visible six-pack I’d ever boom boomed with, so it was pretty magical. In fact, that night is on my list of top 5 life experiences between my bat mitzvah and that time I found a Calvin Klein dress on sale for $9.99.

I have thought about that boy a lot since we awkwardly parted ways in the morning (“Maybe I’ll see you around next time you’re home.”), but have yet to contact him. It’s not like I want a relationship with the kid (it’s hard to build something real on a nice set of abs), but I would like to make this a continuous encounter on any and all trips back home.

But every time I’ve attempted to reach out – usually via Facebook – I freak out. I don’t want him to think I’m making this more than it is, or that I sit at home at night looking at his pictures and hoping he puts some summery/shirtless ones soon. (I do.) I don’t want him thinking I’m some crazy stalker girl who can’t just hook up with someone and let that be the end. I feel weird trying to start a conversation when the only history we have is a night at the bar followed by late night sliders and a roll in the sack. (Warning: Late night greasy sliders are NOT a good idea if you even THINK you will be getting some….)

And then there’s the whole dignity issue. I’m going home in a few days and I would love to tell him I’m coming so we can go for round two, but what if he doesn’t want round two? And is it weird for me to tell someone I’ve spoken to once that I’m gonna be home and we should go out? It would be so much easier if we could just be in the same place and let it just happen.

I know it’s weird that I can’t muster up the courage to talk to someone who has watched me crawl around on the floor naked looking for my underwear, but I can’t. And that’s weird. I mean, we had sex. A lot of sex. I should be able to talk to him.

Ugh. Why are booty calls (or booty-I’m-too-scared-to-calls) so complicated?

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