As the sun slipped away into the shadows it began to pour with rain on a dreary Wednesday night. Pacing the canteen, I didn't need to be told twice. I already knew my plans were a bad idea but still I grappled with the thoughts and wonders of 'What If'? I knew he was right, I just didn't want to admit it. I was meant to be awaiting a connection in Bedford for a bus to a little village I knew well. I was meant to be on my way to an audition. I was meant to keep my foot in the door. Tonight was the night I was going to start my Quest in attempting to win back my Ex - Mr. Cheese. And whilst The Cheese may be over four-thousand miles away in Ghana on a *insert posh voice* "Gaaap Yaar" I still thought that auditioning for the part of Dorothy in his eldest brother's rewritten adaptation of The Wizard of Oz would maybe somehow make him realise just how fricken' amazing I am. But as I began talking to Mr. Warehouse on what seemed to be a now regular occurrence of us meeting as I finished work and he started a night shift, he silenced himself as I rambled on about the Pro's and Con's of attending tonight's social activities. It was as he gazed into my eyes with his goofy hippo-grin that I realised it was time to let go. And as simple as that, it was gone. Deleted. Erased. Forgotten. If he hasn't realised I am mind-blowingly incredible by now then he never will. Why would I ever want to go back to someone who didn't please me in the way I needed? Why an earth would I want to endure any more torment or hell that is Mr. Cheese and I. Yes he was lovely and romantic and wonderful at times but at twenty-three I have needs and have to have them attended to as regularly as possible. He was never 'The One' so I should take myself off the hook and move the fuck on! I know right - Hallelujah!
Changing the tune from Cheese (finally) and after last weeks post I gathered that maybe I needed to distance myself from Mr. Warehouse. Although this proved harder than expected and before I knew it I was finding excuses to see him; making everyone in the office tea at precisely ten-to-three in the afternoon and staying later in the canteen after work just to steal some moments alone in his company without the beady eyes of gossip-queen's about. Even not texting back was a struggle. But I needn't be so cautious as Mr. Warehouse and I were just reaching the peak of the roller-coaster. So after having no entertainment for Friday night and feeling reluctant to work it at my second job in the call-centre, I messaged Mr. Warehouse to enquire of his plans for the hours that followed home-time on a Friday. Other than looking after a Nephew there was no other plans but to hit the pub with Mr. CWG and within a split second I knew that some dodgy village pub would be better than my plans of a my sofa and surfing YouTube for Pugs making noises. Hitching a ride into the small village just outside of where we all work I knocked on his door with anticipation and a slightly nervous stomach. '"Mr. Warehouse is in there alone" I thought to myself as I waited patiently for the door to open. "What happens if he tries to kiss me? What happens if something happens? We have a work's night out tomorrow! They will ask lots of questions!" My head began to lose sight of what this was. Just two friends from the opposite sex hanging out on a Friday night.
Snapped back into reality the door clunked open. Standing before me was the giant that was Mr. Warehouse. Towering over me he welcomed me in and ushered me through the small porch to the cosy sitting room. Commencing a tour I was showed every nook, cranny, cupboard and crevice. Once that was done Mr. Warehouse and I slumped into the soft sofa, Relaxing after what had been a long week at work I let the sofa swallow me in its plumpness as I rested my head on Mr. Warehouse's shoulder. And so commenced the flirty games once more. In a mixture of flirting, play fighting and serious talk about academics and how he failed most things at school there was a heady tension that was nearing breaking point. Just as we encountered one of these moments the baby Nephew arrived and so the roles changed. Whilst my body went ridged with tension and anxiety at the presence of the child that may at any moment start crying and howling, Mr. Warehouse became a completely different person, playing the doting Uncle, making giggles and soothing screams even feeding. As surreal as it all was I took a look at the situation from my minds-eye. There I was looking as uncomfortable as hell for the fear that 'Baby' would cry and I would not know what to do with him! I was a female. I am meant to be maternal and child-friendly. It was as if our roles had been switched and as I watched Mr. Warehouse play with the most recent edition to the family unit, my thoughts turned to the inevitable when in that situation. Shaking them off and telling myself not to go there I tried desperately to think of something else to distract my mind from blissful fantasies I hoped one day would be reality.
Soon enough though it was time to head to the pub and with the baby gone my body was relaxed once more into the plush settee. Heavily flirting again this time there was no getting away from the fact that every time Mr. Warehouse brushed my face with his palms I felt my heart melt a little more. Was I slowly falling? But my mind had no time for questions as the tension reached a new height. Stubbornly arguing over something petty we reached a nose-touching, head-turning, mouth opening conclusion and after donning our coats and jackets we headed out to Mr. Warehouse's local to meet Mr. CWG and company. After a leisurely twilight walk we arrived at a small quaint pub that was about the same size as a family home. Cosy and busy with regulars including an old blind man and his dog that looked very similar, we joined in with the rest of them and before we knew what had happened we were all celebrating pay-day with Jagerbombs. Several hours later and with the alcohol flowing, Mr. Warehouse and I began to loosen-up even more and with a cheeky spank here and a naughty look there we were glad to share at least one secret between us. At least for now anyway!
As the hours flew by in a slur of posh accents and bad jokes about a poorly phrased raffle, I decided it was time for the last cigarette of the night before I called a cab home. Whilst perched on a bench I revelled in the attention as a couple of old men complimented on my drunkenly posh accent telling me that I "obviously went to private school somewhere in Berkshire" and that I probably worked in finance somewhere in London. Taking humour in this I then attended to a conversation with Mr. CWG but from the corner of my eye I watched the night unravel quickly. As I noted the dry heaving I could tell that any moment now Mr. Warehouse was going to chunk-up. Thinking fast and being an expert when it comes to a tactical chunder I moved an empty pint glass towards him. My fast-thinking went unnoticed and within minutes of us sitting down I had sick on both my shoes and my handbag. Without a care in the world Mr. Warehouse continued his decent into the sweetcorn-pit-of-doom, proceeding to barf everywhere. As the bell was rung for last orders and the Landlady arrived it was apparent she was not happy and asked us to leave.
Staggering outside I took ahold of Mr. Warehouse; With his arm slung around my shoulder and struggling to keep him up we stumbled to the front of the public house. Making it only just to the drainpipe I began my mother-hen duties and started to rub Mr. Warehouse's back and help him to be sick. As gross as this all sounds I am well equipped to deal with pukey pals. Many a night out has ended and indeed some cases began with a little vomit between friends. This was no different, except its alot easier as Miss Tweedle-Dumb's hair always had some renascence of spew tangled in it the next morning from me not being able to hold it all back. Sobering up quickly, we stumbled along the path where I was joined by Mr. CWG and the others, although unsympathetic to Mr. Warehouse's self-made situation I was worried. Struggling to walk I turned round to find my date for the evening was passed out cold on the grass verge by the road. Someone called an ambulance stupidly and I concluded that we just simply needed to get Mr. Warehouse back home to bed. After much heaving and attempting to lift his heavy and by this point limp body off the pavement I made Mr. CWG call a friend to help ferry the Drunken Mess back to his Mom's house.
I couldn't just ship him off without a word and so as we watched the black estate speed off into the night Mr. CWG and I made our way too. Arriving at Mr. Warehouse's door for the second time that evening I suddenly became very aware of myself once more. "Inside these brick walls is Mr. Warehouse and his life with his mom! Oh dear lord his mom! I will have to meet her! She will want to know all about me and Mr. Warehouse. I will be asked questions about whether we are an item or not! She may fall in love with me and think I am the next bearer of grandchildren!" I panicked. But before I even had a chance to think about anything the door was opened and we were ushered in. Without thinking about anything else I quickly attached myself to Mr. Warehouse's sickly side, positioned on the arm of the couch and stroking his head as he continued to throw-up I laughed along with his mother about the predicament he was in. Sympathy lacking Mr. CWG, Momma Warehouse and I listened to the wonderful words of a more than tipsy gent. I think the penny finally dropped.
"I'm sorry you had to meet my mommy under these circumstances!" A weary Mr. Warehouse slurred in between burps and dry retching. Glancing shyly over to Momma Warehouse I smiled as she said "So you must be Abbey?" Agreeing and introducing myself we resumed listening in to the ramblings. I was asked yet again for my hand in marriage and, after declining the woozy proposal with an awkward look shared at Momma Warehouse I continued to care for him, making sure his airways were clear enough to be sick so he could heave into my towel covered hands.
After hours of apologies, drunken rants and targeted abuse at Mr. CWG, I mentioned about getting Mr. Warehouse into bed. This kindly gesture was only to be followed by a sweet but slightly embarrassing request for me to join him. Looking at his Mother in shock she made me feel at ease with her sniggers. However I would have to endure many a more moment before we eventually called it a night. As I stroked his head and patted his back down I felt a familiar hand on my thigh but before I even had a chance to swat it away a bark from Mommy Warehouse made his hand retract quicker than a turtle on a BBQ. After saying goodnight to Mr. CWG I asked for a cab number. Being told that I was not getting into a cab this late at night (but by this point it was morning, 4:34am to be precise) I was offered Mr. Warehouse's bed since he was not moving from the lounge. Graciously accepting I ascended the stairs in consideration for the day that would follow. So many questions will be asked and to think that we both will have to do another night out all over again. Only this time I don't think Mr. Warehouse will be drinking anything but Coke. Waking in the morning and with traces of Mr. Warehouse's sick on me, I reluctantly left and went to work but not before I said good morning to a rather sore-headed bear still lying where I left him. Telling him the tales of the night before I bid farewell and thanked Momma Warehouse for what was a really, really comfy bed for the night. Just a shame I suppose that the only spooning happening was between me and the wall.
Nevertheless the weekend as a whole was more dabaucherous and messy than expected. And as Mr. Warehouse and I joined the rest of our work colleagues at a local Tavern we could help but smile in the knowledge that still our little secret was safe. As we partied the night away in a cycle of betting, winning and losing I soon made the grave discovery that I had lost my mobile phone. Mourning its loss and with the lads from work checking all the bars, toilets and ballot booths I concluded I had left it somewhere. Saddened and upset at the fact I had lost my life (pretty much) I headed to the dance-floor and in turn ended up having a cracking time with the lads, dancing and flirting outrageously with them all in the knowledge that even though we were playing it made Mr. Warehouse squirm with jealousy. Feeling sorry for myself at loosing my phone I decided to head back with Mr. Warehouse so I could use his phone in the morning to call my network and cancel my contract. That was until we arrived back to the car and realised that the flashing object on the back seat was just my mobile, complete with forty-two missed calls from an gentlemanly Mr. Warehouse who had been constantly calling it all night from the moment the news broke.
And so with that I declare this weekend as over. Tired and developing somewhat of a flu I am really feeling the effects of two-nights out in a row. How do students do this I have no idea but all I do know is that I need my bed. But I am sure as I lay my head on my silken pillows tonight I shall cast my mind back to the little moments stolen when no-one was looking!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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