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Afternoon everyone,
As I sit on this train, hurtling through the West Country as a Bristolian driver whines instructions about train etiquette I realise that this weekend whilst far from over has been a whirlwind of emotions. With my Boyfriend sat beside me I think about what the future holds for us given the weekend we have had. Its a complicated one you see as whilst our mini break away to Bristol has been a mostly pleasurable experience I know that there are not many moments like this until Mr. Cheese's departure to Ghana in a matter of weeks. And this thought seems to make everything inside my head all the more difficult.
This weekend never started out as that though. In fact very far from my thoughts and worries of Africa entirely. After meeting The Cheese and his fit flatmate in a their local for a few drinks, we headed back to the flat and proceeded with how the last few weeks have been; Blissfully in love and impassioned with one another. Barely being able to contain both our excitement or lust for each other I helped the boyfriend pack his bag ready for the morning. Hopping into bed I knew I couldn't sleep without some bedtime antics and for once Mr. Cheese was unable to sleep either. And so the commencement of duvet delights coupled with a gloriously long make out session was mine, ending with the softness of the chest wig against my cheeks as I slowly drifted off to Dreamland. Friday morning was an early start for Mr. Cheese and so I thought I would be kind and get up with him to help motivation kick start. As it turns out he was in a rush so I opted to stay back at the flat a bit before I had to leave for the hairdresser's in Kensington, London. I enjoyed my morning with Cheese's flatmate as we get along well and have alot in common with film and music tastes. Although after hastily getting the snip in the salon I whizzed over to Paddington to meet Mr. Cheese from work and board our train. Grabbing some lunch on the way we greeted one another with a cheeky smile and headed for the platform, eventually finding our seats and settling down for the journey.
Bristol soon arrived and stepping onto the hot concrete of Temple Meads station we both mentioned the summer holiday feeling our bones had craved for. Despite me not having a summer holiday this year I was treating my mini break with the Boyfriend as such. I had been plotting away for some weeks with Momma Cheese to join their family holiday and surprise Mr. Cheese on his birthday whilst out in Greece, however that all fell through last Tuesday when I found out it would cost me well over a grand just for one week. Unfortunately I just don't have the money and so my Greek Island fantasies shall stay as such. Nevertheless it didn't completely stop me revelling in the lush fluffy bedsheets of the deluxe room we were staying in. As soon as we clicked open our room door all I saw was opportunity after opportunity for sexual frolicking. From the desk to the chair to the bath then the shower and the wardrobe (yes the wardrobe) and even the luggage holder complete with leather straps. However I feel that maybe my agenda was slightly squeued to that of my other half's as we swiftly dropped our luggage and headed out to explore the city.
After trawling many a great mountain around the city sights we ended up at a Chinese restaurant for dinner. Now those that know me will know that I have never been one for foreign food from far off lands such as Asia, however I felt that maybe I should experiment and not wanting to disappoint Lover Boy I agreed to the Chinese cuisine. Looking at the menu, stunned at the prices I could feel that duck was tickling my taste buds. Crispy duck I thought. And so when the native waitress came to take our orders she was befuzzled by our choice to two portions of the half-crispy-duck. Feeling the pressure to choose something else as she looked at me with a judging gaze I reluctantly changed my mind to a spicy slow cooked variety of the same bird. Not feeling wholly comfortable with my choice of dinner we conversed until its arrival. Disappointment spread across my face like wildfire although I tried to hide this from my Dinner Date. Whilst I watched with envy at his crispy fried duck I chomped slowly on the fatty cuts of meat that accompanied my noodles and veg. Not wanting to seem ungrateful I nodded and agreed with both our waitress and Mr. Cheese on how wonderful it all was as I gnawed at the hunks of fatty meat. I knew then that my once adventurous nature of this evening had been too adventurous. Trotting back to the hotel room I anticipated something lustful before painting the town red in Bristol's lively student district. Again disappointment followed as Mr. Cheese was too tired to venture past the sheets and thus we fell asleep quickly after, blessed only with the promise that Saturday night we would be hitting both the bottle and the dance floor.
Fourteen hours later after a mammoth sleeping sesh, we woke at midday and despite my advances to lure the beast from the cage as it were they were yet again dismissed. I was starting to feel more like a friend than a girlfriend but put on a smile and donned a summery outfit, my thoughts turning to the evening and how stunning I would look after getting ready that I would be begging Mr. Cheese to put me down. Smiling to myself we excited the hotel and walked into the thick heavy heat of Saturday afternoon, plodding round the markets and shops, listening in to other people's conversations and generally being caught up with each other in a romantically heady mix of summeriness. Gorgeous as the day was we returned to the hotel before heading to the spa and then changing for dinner. Yet again my attempts at seduction were shunned after getting out of the pool and as a result provoked questions as to why this was so. I don't know, maybe its more of a man thing but I was under the impression that with a big expensive hotel, endless options of lovemaking surfaces and a hot and horny girlfriend that venturing outside room 237 wouldn't have been first on the to do list. And so with the same old reasons as before we headed to dinner at a posh eatery on the other side of the city, with the promise of a drunken night out ahead I was sure that the somewhat dry spell would be over this evening. And it was. I just didn't realise that the dry spell would be broken from my face not my pants.
Once we paid for dinner in which even splitting the bill hurts my purse now three days on, we went back to the room to change and get ready for the bright lights of student digs and cheap drinks. Thus was not to be the case yet again. As I sashayed out of the bathroom into the coolness of the room, face beautified and hair perfectly placed I slipped on my killer dress and presented myself to my boyfriend. For one of the first times during this trip I saw his face light up. Instantly reaching out for me I steadied myself, begging him to chase me for once and not lazily wait for me to get on top. Standing at the edge of the bed I could see that whilst my ensemble was only half finished, I was still not alluring to my boyfriend. Feeling absolutely deflated I had enough. That was the last straw. Checking the time, it was gone eleven and with Mr. Cheese not even remotely ready yet I knew we wouldn't be going out - Again! His promise had been broken. Angry at being let down and feeling both unloved, unappreciated and totally unsexy I furiously ripped off my dress, wiped off my make up and climbed into the soft recluse of the quilt all with little or no reaction from Cheese.
Slowly sinking into the sheets my thoughts turned dark and dangerous. What was wrong with me? What did I do wrong? Am I really that fat and unattractive that he doesn't even find me mildly sexually stimulating? Was there something I said or did that was out of place? Why doesn't he want to have sex with me? All the questions I thought I had banished weeks ago suddenly flooded me once more, but this time with a vicious fury of emotions. As I lay there, Mr. Cheese clearly preparing himself for bed, I could feel myself fizzing with anger. How dare he plan me a night out on the town and then fail to deliver, only to then make a promise to the break, along with a little piece of my heart. Raging tears pricked my eyes and I struggled to fight them off. He knew how much I loved a good night out and with the lack sexual desire for me I felt like shit.
Then just as I thought things couldn't get worse, from the corner of my eye I saw the flicker of the TV. Green filled the screen as I adjusted my position only to realise that it was football. The tears I was holding back could wait no more and proceeded to stream down my nose and soak my pillow. Trying to stifle the sobs as the game continued I thought about how I would end it. How can things have been so perfect and then end like this. Bristol was meant to be a fun weekend away with my wonderful boyfriend and now I am crying into my pillow as he enthusiastically watches the world cup friendly against Honduras. 'This is the end' I thought to myself. 'Yes, my boyfriend who I openly love would rather watch football than keep his promises to spend time with his girlfriend'. Thinking of the end only made things worse and I tried in vain to stop the floods as I thought of his family that I cared for so much. The surprise I was planning with Momma Cheese. Mr. Cheese's and their banter. Pappa Cheese and his unfunny jokes. Granny, Grandpa and Grandma Cheese whom all were elated that we were back together after our break. All would be lost. I couldn't bear that heartache a second time around, not after Mr. Workaholic. I felt like just packing my bags and heading home. I wanted home. I didn't want to be here any more. As the whistle blew I mustered the courage to turn and face the man who had ruined everything.
'So at which point during this evening did you plan to break your promise? Was it before or after you made the decision that a bunch of men running round after a sodding football was more important than me, your girlfriend?!' I started, angrily biting back at his complacent baby face. I was tamping. Nothing was holding me back. I told him everything - Well most things. All of it out. I felt asking if there was anything wrong with him as I knew in my heart it wasn't me to really blame. Mr. Cheese tried to scapegoat the situation but I nipped that straight in the bud and told him where to get off. After what seemed like an age going round in the same pond I always found myself in with him I grew tired of arguing and simply ended it by stating that all I want is to be loved and wanted. I just want him to feel attracted to me, stimulated by me, enthralled and enraptured by me. Is that too much to ask for from someone who claims to love me?! The rest of the weekend continued as it should without any mention of it again. It had crossed my mind several times of finding a solution to the areas of my relationship that needed improving but alas that is not an option I feel is viable.
On the plus side however we did have makeup sex after our row and although mind blowing as it normally is, the aftermath was not as such. Exhausted from crying, arguing and sex I resumed my position with my head rested on the tipee moobs, cushioned by chest wig and with one leg out of the covers laying over The Boyfriends lower half. Just as small talk subsides I hear an almighty crash down the hall from our room. Thinking nothing more of it other than probably one of the stags back from what should be our heavy night of drinking I dismissed it. That was until the swift click of the cardkey in the hotel room door and being thrust open. Startled and not expecting any visitor's boyfriend and I looked up to be greeted by a tall, well built stranger in our room. Standing in the doorway, bemused as we were, only lit by the corridor he looked like a god. Adjusting my eyes I soon realised that not only was this man very drunk and very attractive but I was also very naked. After a few good minutes of intrigue and puzzled faces the opening line came from the owner of chest wig himself.
'Can I help you?' Mr. Cheese asked, typically British and politely as if he had just asked for directions. The illuminated man answered back with our room number. An Australian accent filled the room and I could feel myself dampening again. With both men seemingly unable to help the situation further I waded in abruptly, firing my previous anger at the hot Aussie rather than at the man I was hugging the chest of. 'Wrong room!' I barked. After the few seconds it took him to acknowledge my notion, and clearly swaying in a drunken haze the butch Australian left shutting the door on his way out saying no more. In hindsight I suppose I should have jumped at the opportunity of a random drunk man with a Australian accent tumbling into my hotel room at 2am. When looking back on the situation I am as equally disappointed that he didn't introduce himself with a friendly Australian 'Gooday'. When answering the question of 'How can we help' with the correct room number I should have asked him to join us in bed, there was plenty of room and I definitely wouldn't have complained about being piggy in the middle. But alas he left and the boyfriend and I giggled at the stranger the entered our room that evening and how different the situation could have been only a matter of minutes earlier. Maybe then he would have joined in.
The rest of the weekend continued nicely with sunshine most days and lazy mornings in bed. Despite the lack of sex I'm still happy although I would be lying if I said that my thoughts were not still marred over the remainder of the mini break. I will however attempt to not think too much but as ever my thoughts are beginning to plague my mind but I now know that the only person that can cure them is the one person that breeds them...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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