EFFIE BATEMAN | BRISBANE| CONTACT
As he snuggles deeper into the blankets, a clear-headed Adrian Walker feels pleased with his decision to forego drinks last night.
The thirty-year-old had allegedly pinballed between staying in and heading out, going so far as to put on his best pair of dress shoes before hesitating at the door.
It’s not like he doesn’t like to have a good time, but for the past several weekends getting shitfaced hasn’t really been worth waking up with a hangover and a fluttery heartbeat.
Nor has the $300 cash withdrawals which seem to go hand in hand with having the disposable income of a tax lawyer.
His mates, however, did reportedly try very hard to get the party boy out of his guilt spiral, lighting up his phone at various points in the night – which included at some point, a giggling phone call from a mate who appeared to be running a bubble bath.
Rolling over to check his phone, which he’d wisely turned off at midnight, Adrian was amused to discover a series of his texts from his best mate, Pete, who’d taken it rather personally that Adrian had decided to stay home.
‘Bro come out.’
‘Duuuude dont b lame hahahah’
‘Fuvkimg adrean you biorting cint get out herreeeeee.’
‘Were at finnnsss playin 2 up u in??? hahaha coom ommmm.’
‘Broiooooo yu no yu wammtt to smass a coonneee.’
‘WEEE FGOT BAGS BRUHH 😛 💦’
‘Y a fucing dog cont ficuk so fukign boruign fjkkk you nasshh i luv yououu jks’
Though he savours being able to actually stomach a piece of bread first thing in the morning, deep down, Adrian is experiencing just a little bit of FOMO.
More to come.
