The Elastic Band Effect

Afternoon All, 

Well, after last week's relaxed mental state after having many a question answered the whirlwind in my head had started to die down. That was until I met up with some of my family over the weekend and made me realize that maybe it was the eye of the storm for now I am in my second full day of not saying a word to Mr. Cheese! I know. Trust me, I am just as freaked out as you are right now. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly up until now. So what happened? Well, allow me to explain ...

It all started with Friday evening and a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and their work colleague Miss Lace. We all went to London to see some live music from a band who were dragged up from our adolescents and still sounded as good as they did all them many moons ago when I was still chasing after boys and wearing a school uniform - Not that anything has changed, apart from maybe the uniform. It was good fun but as the girls departed, my night had only just began! I arrived in West London to be greeted by a warm face and was pulled in for a big hug even before the tube barriers had let me through. Mr. Cheese was warm and inviting and secretly I had missed him. Alot. But of course I was never going to tell him that, or the fact that I had been waiting all week to have a weekend like the one ahead of us; Or at least so I thought. 

Stumbling into his flat he shut the front door and we almost immediately jumped into bed. But something was wrong. I was wide awake and there was only one thing that could send me to sleep satisfied and contented. Whilst I struggled to fall asleep 'naturally' Mr. Cheese held me in his arms and although it sounds like magic, I was finding it harder and harder to resist him. As I slowly started to tease and play he got the idea and I suppose its safe to say that I got what I needed that night in more ways than one. I'm glad to report that things are getting better and better in the bedroom department, although I am still left hungry for more every time! 

As the sun rose on Saturday morning, Mr. Cheese begged to take me to breakfast out along the main High Street. Looking at the time there was simply no hope of squeezing in a takeaway coffee let alone a full blown sit-down scoff. We dressed and Mr. Cheese walked me to the station. Parting our ways, Mr. Cheese attended a rugby game with his family and I visited mine. First stop was my grandparents who utilised the fact that I was round their house to help with some printing but all was in vain as the printing still came out as blotchy as before. Almost as soon as I had walked through the door on their little bungalow, I was questioned about my love-life and all manner of things within it. Topic of conversation fell straight towards Mr. Cheese and where it was all going not to mention my dilemma of the Christmas plans with his family up North. The same conversation was dug up when I met up with my Dad for dinner that evening. My Dad warned me and reminded me of just how far it is a fall from grace as was with Mr. Workaholic. "I don't want you having your heart broken again sweetheart" Dad said with a concerned look on his face. He knew what I was like. Falling hard and fast for people before I know the bigger picture.Still, the chat with family somewhat it put my mind at ease. Just simply being able to talk it out was good, but it forced me to remember just how wrong it can all go. 

Arriving back into London on Saturday evening, Mr. Cheese and I spent the evening chatting to his house mate about films and hobbies before we started bitching about people we knew. And boy can men be catty. After making our way through several bottles of cider, champagne and indulging in cake, cheese and fruit; Mr. Cheese and I thought it would be time to retire to bed. I was looking forward to the fact that neither of us had to be up early in the morning, nor did we have any plans for Sunday either. 'A whole day in bed' I thought. Ponders of how I would give his cranky neighbours something to shout about raced through my head as a cheeky smile played across my face. Slipping into a night shirt I knew would be tossed across the room within the hour I clambered into bed. Snuggling on Mr. Cheese's chest whilst a nature programme played in the background, I started to play with his chest hair but little did Mr. Cheese know that this was only the beginning of my favourite game of all. Cat and Mouse. The teasingly frustrating climb to seduction whereby it all ends with two hot, breathless, exhausted bodies ready for bed. Properly. 

However this was not how the evening panned out. In fact the animals on the television got more action in twenty minutes than I did in seventy-two hours being in Mr. Cheese's company. 'Maybe Mr. Cheese was just playing a better game? Maybe I have met my match? Was he enjoying winding me up and is he ever going to give in and let me have it?' I thought to myself. I hoped Sunday would be better and agreeing with Mr. Cheese that we were in fact both tired I drifted off to sleep, limbs entangled and his head on my chest. But as I awoke for the second consecutive night in a row I felt a soft wet kiss on my cheek. Opening my peepers I saw a bright blue-eyed Mr. Cheese gazing at me. Finally we had nothing to rush out the door for. Nothing planned to interrupt. Just us. Well that and the fact that we were both gradually wasting away in bed. In between kisses I noticed that I was being more affectionate than Mr. Cheese was to me. I held back a little to see what he would do. To my dismay he kept turning away from me, rolling his body in the opposite direction. Finding this odd I tried to turn him on but with no luck. Was I unattractive? Did he want to have sex with me? Was I really that wobbly? 

After giving up all hope of morning sex we finally we made the decision to get up and go for the breakfast I had promised him yesterday. And although there was the promise of returning to bed later on after we had eaten I knew that it would be highly unlikely. How right I was. After feasting on a wonderful breakfast we spent some quality time in the Autumn sunshine walking hand in hand around West London where Mr. Cheese lives and exploring antique shop's and cafes in between sneaks into the delicatessen and pet shop. Before heading home we bought ice-creams for one last ditch attempt to soak up summer. I took this opportunity to use the frozen desert to my advantage although I don't think he was paying attention.

Back at his flat I spent the next few hours listening and attempting to understand football as there was a game on and Mr. Cheese plus house mate were completely engrossed. Just as I thought about going home the suggestion of watching some more television in bed, minus the house mate, came into play. 'Mmm, how wonderful would it be to end it on a high?' I thought selfishly in my head as we got under the blankets. But all Mr. Cheese wanted to do was cuddle. Just hug and hold each other as we watched other mammals getting some on telly. Again I tried to work my magic but nothing. Mr. Cheese just kept saying how he wanted to simply snuggle. I reluctantly gave up my efforts and as I did suddenly out spilt my heart and all the worries I had for the future.

Now I suppose from the outside this is cute and adorable. It should be nice that he doesn't just want to fuck and be done with it. A true gentleman. But this weekend and the inactivity of my vagina has left me wondering weather I'm good enough? Surely this is the honeymoon period where we can barely keep our hands off each other, sneaking into quiet woodland to have a secret passionate kiss and a naughty fumble. I feel as though we have reached a stand still. I really like this guy more than I thought I ever could, especially after Mr. Workaholic, but I find myself wondering what is wrong. It seems like he doesn't like me as much as I like him. The worry is that, like Mr. Workaholic, I will become attached and a part of his life, only for him to one day rip me apart and leave me in a shredded, tattery heap on the floor desperately clinging to the life I had once more. It doesn't help when Mr. Cheese explains that after only having been in one relationship which lasted nearly four years which ended around this time last year, he doesn't know what else is out there. That terrifies me beyond my wildest nightmares. I have been there. I have put other people through the heart-ache of a break-up with no reasoning. But I have also been on the receiving end of this chest-ripping pain and its something I don't want to ever return to.

The fact that Mr. Cheese say I make him happier than his Ex ever did and that I am all he has ever looked for in a partner still makes him reluctant to answer the question of where this all is going. As time flew by I explained my concerns with Mr. Cheese and discussed my concerns. You see everyone, Mr. Cheese isn't just another fling, another notch on my bedpost. He is someone I can see spending my days with happy and content laughing away as the months turn into years. Mr. Cheese is gentlemanly and kind and generous and intelligent and wonderful in so many ways. I am not so opposed to the idea of becoming a 'G' friend as I was when Mr. Cheese and I first met. But for him I feel that he is in the same place as I was when I met Mr. Coffee. Madly infatuated but also cautious not to get it wrong and hurt anyone in the process. I understand where he might be at the moment and I know I'm stressing over nothing but I just needed some space from him to clear my head and think straight and sensibly about what to do next.

And so like an elastic band I have stretched far and kept my distance whilst I sort through this mess I have gotten myself into. I know that by this time next week I will have pinged back, straight into his warm embrace. I just hope that this time I will have grown on him like the mold in which he has cultivated me with. In a good way of course. So hurry up Mr. Cheese ... Infest me! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx