The Number Nine!

Well Hello Everybody, 

I hope you have all been well. I have not unfortunately and as explained last week I have been struck down by what seemed to be a bit of a cold. Nevertheless on with the show ... 

Slipping on my heeled boots and cramming my daisy print jumper for later into my Ted Baker handbag I hurriedly whizzed our the door. Eight or nine? I couldn't remember but either was I was buzzing, if slightly tired from the night before and my now subsiding cold. Fearing being late for my date I wondered how long it had actually been since our first date. Waiting in the designated spot I had done more than two-months prior I awaited my Date's arrival, soon enough though he was there. As Mr. ToyBoy and I embraced conversation immediately turned to his hangover and the fact that the night began as an 'only one drink' affair. I struggled to sympathise but found myself being cast back to a last weekend in all its messiness. 

Walking along the packed out, cobbled streets of Bedford Town centre on what was a very busy Saturday afternoon I felt as if I was waiting desperately for something good to come up in conversation. "I don't remember it being this dry the first time round?" I thought to myself for the second time so far that day. However entering the West London inspired Coffee House I revelled in the fact that we would now have each others sole attention. Seating at the same table we had first encountered each other at nearly nine weeks ago I looked at an attractive face I knew would just be another one to add to the hall of infamy. Tall, dark and handsome Mr. ToyBoy encompassed all the things I looked for in a potential boyfriend - Nice set of teeth. Good shoes. Hair I can run my fingers through and maybe grab a little tuft once in a while and a beautiful set of deep brown eyes that I just want to fall into. Unfortunately conversation ebbed to a point in which he ended up checking the football scores and I wondered as to when I can let this one go. I had already been with someone that was obsessed with sports, I didn't need another. 

Staring out at Mr. ToyBoy over my iced Vanilla Chai milkshake (It was sooo good) I wondered how big his dick was. I know alright, I'm a shallow, terrible person but once you have encountered something as unreliable as public transport then you will know where I am coming from. I understand that size doesn't matter and that sex is only a small part of a relationship but to me it is more than that. It has to be fun and whimsical and entertaining. For too long I have had to suffer and it's about time I got what I wanted! Needless to say as I smiled cheekily at the bubbles in my milkshake as my date twittered on about Game of Thrones my mind wandered to fantasies including classical music blaring from speakers as I reached my first orgasm. Images of him throwing me over coffee tables, my bare arse being splintered as he held me in place, taking me whilst I screamed out in a pleasure infused scream. After controlling myself and bringing my smirk back around to a more serious, grown up conversation about the Illuminati of which I still don't fully follow, understand or even to be quite frank care about, I realised that this was not going to be something I could fully invest in any way. Mr. ToyBoy, whilst older in appearance and as adorably fucking hot as he is, unfortunately won't be the one to take off my garter! At least I doubt it anyway - I mean lets not rule it out! 

A combination of being too young, still in college with prospects of university as well as completely unable to be financially savvy brought me to the conclusion that this would probably never work out how I would like it. Yes he probably had a big willy and yes he was probably (And even if he wasn't I would make him) good in bed, but I need more than that? Don't I? Ascetically I could not fault the lad, I had palpation's just looking at him, but would he make me feel like a Queen, I doubted it. Uhh! But he was such a good kisser as well! As I asked the Barista for a duplicate order I cast my mind back to long, soft make-out sessions, gently nibbling each others lips with our tongues exploring the unknown under a stormy August afternoon sun. I was getting moist at the thought of it. But alas, it was never meant to be. As we parted and went our separate ways I knew we would still keep in contact. Friends maybe. Just missing the benefits part! Maybe we will pick it up sometime, but then again maybe not. But rest assured I wont be lonely for long. Somehow, leaving dearest Mr. ToyBoy at the bus stop to be a bus-wanker home, I knew that I wouldn't be too saddened for long. Hey, there is plenty more fish in the sea right? But maybe I need to stop looking in the sea and start looking a little closer to home ... 

You see, as I am sure you are well aware there has been an increasing romance and somewhat tension struggle that is between myself and a fellow work colleague, Mr. Warehouse but I have started to allow history repeat itself and at present I am now in the elastic band state of mind - Constantly being stretched mentally between wanting to be in Mr. Warehouse's company all the time and also wanting to be single and having the freedom to do as I please when I please it and with who I please (Or more-so how they please me but that is by the by). Pinging between the two has been somewhat exhausting not to mention being ill also. Its complicated I know, but I almost feel as if I haven't moved very far from this time last year when I was constantly battling my head and my heart around the whole Mr. Cheese saga. And I haven't exactly made things easy for myself this week either. 

These feelings however and in particular the bond I have with Mr. Warehouse is very, very different indeed to what I had and probably still have with Mr. Cheese. Up on my pedestal I sit, looking down I realise that over the past few weekends I have spent with Mr. Warehouse, I have had more laughs and giggles and simply childish fun with him than I have ever had with anyone since Mr. Workaholic. Playful tickles, cuddles and stolen moments all add up and are slowly contributing to the way I feel overall about him. I never saw his flaws and I am slowly getting my head around the things that I originally could not deal with. The fact I didn't and still to a certain extent at times don't find him attractive in the conventional sense is starting to become less of an issue. He likes me for me. Not who I want to be nor who I will become but everything I am right here and now. He doesn't like some of the things I do and say sometimes but that the same with everyone. 

The thing is that Mr. Warehouse is very much like my father and as a result, in fact as far as scientific and psychological research goes (That is my Psychology and Science A-Levels speaking!), women find men resembling and embodying qualities and aesthetics of their fathers, attractive and appealing. But its more that all those things. He is the one person I can just be ridiculous with, the one person I can laugh and joke about with and the one person that will still find me attractive despite my messy morning hair, panda eyes and pale-sickly-flu-face. Scary thing is though is that there are two words that are coming up more and more often. The. One. 

Could it be? Maybe? I don't know? It scares the fuck out of me to think that it might be and that this might be it, my husband for ever and ever 'until death do us part' and all that malarkey but I know deep down that I am not completely intolerant to the idea. Mr. Warehouse has the most wonderfully loud, colourful and extravagant family I can ever think I have met and one that I wouldn't wholly disapprove of entering but those two little words are a big deal, especially at just twenty-three. But after a discussion with my Father yesterday over what was an orgasmic Sunday Roast Dinner I discovered that he was only a year older than I am now when he married my mother. And it got me really thinking. What would happen if I just let go of being cautious and scared of loosing everything. What happens if I just forget all the hurt and those stupid guys in the past that quite frankly will never in the rest of this earth's life cycle meet someone as amazing, funny, brilliant, witty and spectacularly incredible as me. What happens if maybe I gave it a chance to grow? 

Spookier things have happened. And with Halloween almost upon us I can only dream of what hellish and gorey scenes will poison my memory next week as I take to my fancy dress box and don a cute yet slutty outfit in preparation for the best time of year - Halloween!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx