Have you ever been so hard up that your friends actually invite a mate over to shag you for the sake of your (and their) sanity? No? Just me then.

In my defence, I was never on board with this idea. In fact, I was slightly offended yet weirdly touched by the sentiment of the whole thing. And this visit was happening anyway – it just so happened that my friend believed one of the guys would be a good match for me. Although the fact it was also solving an issue of who was sleeping where didn’t escape my notice. Now before anyone gets too concerned about my welfare here, I should be clear that there was no actual implication that anything would be happening without my full consent. It was more of a friendly suggestion laid out in a way that would be easy for me to go along with should I choose to. But I was absolutely not going along with this idea. I had my principles! I did agree to join them on their night out, but it was just to meet them and have a few drinks. The guys went out earlier in the night, then me and a couple of the girls met up with them a bit later in a club. Innocent enough.

You know what, those principles bailed on me as soon as the smell of stale beer and sambuca hit me. There we were, dancing away as a group in the middle of the club, and any concerns I had just melted away. I was too busy enjoying the music and the vibes to even consider the dirty deal that had taken place on my behalf. I know, I know, I judge me too. But just see how your standards hold up when you’re six snakebites in and vibing to Tiny Dancer on a crowded dancefloor. I’m only human!

Anyway, after a night of fun and frivolity, we all walked back from the club together, where me being the accident-prone person I am, I managed to trip up and twist my ankle in my lovely heels that I’d somehow survived the rest of the night in. But, like a hero without a cape, Mr Mumbles swooped me up in his arms and carried me all the way home. Seriously. All the way. If there was ever any doubt about where that man was sleeping that night, then let me tell you, from that moment it was clear he was going to be in my bed. No arguments.

Now, there will be some of you begging for the filthy details at this point and some hoping that I just stick to good old British euphemisms and save everyone’s dignity. So I’ll compromise and just stick to the good bits. Although I have to admit, all the bits were pretty good! If it wasn’t already obvious by his earlier gesture, this man had some muscles on him and boy did he use them. He threw me around that bed like I was a ragdoll and I am not kidding when I say my bed took the brunt of it. My lovely, almost brand new bed – the one that I had begged my landlords for just a couple of weeks earlier – was constantly squeaking after that night. Although I should be grateful it was still standing after the almighty crack we heard midway through our romantic gymnastics. Which, by the way, I never did find the source of. I was just glad my housemate in the room below was away at the time!

Looking back, it was lucky really that we communicated so well between the sheets as I could barely understand a word the man said. Genuinely. Especially first thing in the morning when he mumbled away in his deep, thick accent. I’m pretty sure it was some kind of question, but I wasn’t really sure how to respond as who knows what I would have been agreeing to, so I just kissed him and lured him in to another round of sexy times. A distraction technique that has got me through many an awkward situation. Needless to say, a good portion of his visit was spent in my bedroom. Turns out words weren’t really necessary that weekend anyway!

And if my friend asks – this whole thing working out perfectly was merely a coincidence.

L xo