The Game Changer

Hello There, 

Overtime. Mentally. Physically. Metaphorically. I had been at the office for over ten-hours. Now you would think that maybe I had been at my desk, desperately sifting through a never-ending pile of papers and files. But no. I had been in the canteen since I finished and as I looked out the window to the darkness I realised I should probably go home. Why was I so late in leaving. A conversation I had been having with myself for the past few weeks. Only this time it was being voiced out in the open for everyone to hear - Myself included!

Ever since our first encounter I had thought there was something about him. I couldn't, and in all honesty still can't put my finger on it. Newly single I was out with work colleagues and trying my hardest to come across in a good light as well as fitting in. The lads instantly were a life-line, offering up banter, feminist comments and crude remarks. I felt at ease in there company. Laughing along and discussing matters of the boudoir I knew that whilst I had only been with the company a matter of weeks I was fast becoming a valued and exciting member of the team. One person seemed to take more notice than most though and as we left the first bar and headed to the second I was collared by some fellow female colleagues. 

"He fancies you!" they whispered to me making excuses to the boys that we were talking about my shoes. Flattered yet unbelieving of there comments I brushed it off although thankful though for capturing the attention of someone who wasn't my most recent tragedy. I had not long been separated from Mr. Cheese, forty-eight hours to be precise. Things as I am sure you are all very aware of by now had been going down hill for a while and whereas I was willing and able to make the effort and put in the graft to make it better, I knew that it would end sooner or later. And so talking to the tall, broad guy dressed in a white and blue pin-striped shirt that kept unbuttoning by itself I soon found myself back into my old ways and realising the fun of being single. Assuming that the smart shirt would lend itself to purpose (And also being new to the company I might add) I thought that the guy who I had caught the eye of was some business man or sales representative, possibly only in town for a night or two. But oh how wrong I was. 

Waking up that Saturday morning was one of life's best epiphanies. Granted, it may have taken a bit of practise to get into the idea that me and The Cheese were over but nevertheless I got there in the end ... Somewhat! Subway crumbs scratching my chest and still dressed in the clothes from only a few hours before I recollected the memoirs. Suddenly Singlesville didn't seem so scary and I knew at that point I was going to be OK. As the weeks passed and the story continued I lay oblivious to the signals. The excuses to come into my office, the bumping into each other in the canteen and even the cheeky following on social media. It seems I couldn't escape my little admirer. I liked it though. Attention is something I am always happy to be on the receiving end of and am always trying to get myself into the spotlight. It seemed as if someone had noticed me. As time went by the messages got more and more frequent until there wasn't a moment that didn't pass with us not talking. He was the first person that had put a smile on my face in months. His comments and words made me feel not wholly repugnant to all men and that Mr. Cheese was a complete fool to have given up on let's face it everyone - Someone pretty fucking awesome!

As Mr. Cheese faded into the background, reappearing only to crack my heart a little more, I became more aware of the connection myself and the not-so-secret-admirer had. He made me bellow out loud with laughter and his cheekiness knew no bounds. Something between us had started and despite my initial reservations I am finding myself thinking about the alternative more and more. It is almost a daily occurrence whereby I lay in bed, looking out to the stars, snuggled in my duvet pondering the "What ifs" of my world. But usually my last thought as I drift off is I wonder what would happen if I just allowed this thing between myself and my partisan to blossom and grow? With thinning and ridiculously spiky gelled hair best left to 2000 and a stocky build my affections were no where near as strong as his directed towards me. I won't lie, I was not initially drawn to him for his looks and even as it stands now I know I will sound like a bitch when I state that I am not conventionally attracted to him in the way I am with others. But I have to be honest - Both with myself and also with him. The things that I like about him are more important than being sexually attractive anyway, things like his personality, charisma, likability, deep brown eyes and the cute, hippo-toothed grin. As eloquently put by both Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Mr. CWG (Otherwise known as Mr. Creepy Warehouse Guy), maybe he is not my type but this might just be what I need. Maybe I have just been so focused on looks that I forgot about substance and that he does make me smile and brightens my day. Yes he is not my type ascetically, but he is on the inside. I know in my heart that he would treat me as not just a princess but as a queen, placing me on the pedestal of which I have perched many a man in the past. Maybe he is 'a grower like mould?'

In the beginning it was all just a bit of fun and whilst I wasn't looking there has been something simmering away between myself and that mischievous Mr. Warehouse! And so as I sat balanced carefully on the wobbly, wooden table in my works canteen I began to be ground down in the quest for a solution to this problem that had plagued me for so long. My answers and excuses being analysed and dissected by Mr. CWG  I was running out of things to say. Hitting the nail on the head he burrowed into my mind, truthfully unmasking the real reasons why my dating career was such a failure. I was scared. Nothing new there I already knew that. But why was the pinpoint question. I knew the answer to that one as well. Realising this made complete sense as to why things between myself and Mr. Cheese had never worked out and the same with Mr. Coffee as well all those many moons ago. I was completely and utterly terrified of being hurt again as Mr. Workaholic had left me. Deepening conversation turned to darker matters and as I brutally opened up about mine and Mr. Workaholic's demise and I could see my make-shift therapist feel unsettled as he had both hit a nerve and also the root of my problem. 

It wasn't just me I was scared about hurting. Mr. Warehouse is such a nice guy, probably one of the nicest. Kitten-like in his manner, a timid and shy he lacks the confidence to make a move with me. Cute and sweet and as dorkily romantic as that is I know that given half a chance, a shot of Smirnoff or two and the right opportunity my pussy-cat would soon pounce like a tiger. Scared of rejection he doesn't understand that I see through all his flaws and whilst I know I could probably have him wrapped round my little finger if we were together, an idea I am not entirely as opposed to as I was a few months ago. In the long run however I don't know if our tastes match exactly. I would like to get married - He does not. I like a traditional and cosy home - He likes minimalistic and modern. I like things rough and hard and he seems to me to be the kinda guy that would run a mile if I brought out a whip and some chocolate body paint! But then we agree with many other aspects of life such as wasting Sunday's in bed watching vloggers on YouTube, our love for cheesy and frankly cringe-worthy 90's disco classics and conversation about puppies. And besides dating someone that I work with, even indirectly, causes it's own friction. As a very family orientated business, literally as well, I wouldn't just be dating Mr. Warehouse; I would also be dating the rest of the company as tongues would cease to wiggle. But then I ask myself is that any different to now being the couple of flirtatious twenty-somethings engaging fellow workers in the conversation of "will-they-won't-they". 

As I walked home I heard the bells ring out as if some sort of awakening was meant to occur but alas the saga continues, as it has done so for weeks. In my heart I have already admitted to both myself and Mr. Warehouse that we will end up in bed at some point, probably with the help of copious amounts of alcohol and the gradual grinding down from colleagues to hook-up. It will happen. I know it will. Its just a question of when and how and where! If I am honest with myself I do like him, even if only a little bit but I don't think I am ready to admit it to myself yet, let alone to an smitten and infatuated Mr. Warehouse. As for now or the future of this all I don't know. I do acknowledge one thing for sure and that is that while I detest the idea of a relationship right now I would like something more than what I have at the moment which is just nothing. I want the cuddles and spooning of someone regular but with the opportunity to meet and date others. Being truthful I know that Mr. Warehouse would not be up for sharing and I don't blame him but right now I can't do commitment. 

And just as I say this I ponder as to the mention of a 'Amis De La Advantage' NSA-relationship a familiar face makes a welcome reappearance. Mr. ToyBoy. The game just got interesting ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx