Fright Night!

Bonjour!

So this week in Blighty it was Halloween - That magical time of year where, as a women, you can dress like a slut and get away with it. But horror struck much before all hallows eve for me as a shock email sent me spinning into somewhere very, very dark! Completely unprepared I was, just packing up my desk on a Thursday evening ready for another shift at my second job when something pinged in my inbox. Subject line being 'My dearest friend' and from the wonderful Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee I opened it quickly, already anxious to make my connection. Reading my mouth gaped open, shivers down my spine and a chill coming over me I felt the full force of the unprepared tidal wave hit me. Mr. Cheese was home!

Adrenaline gushing I snatched my bag and left the office already dialling the Tweedle's numbers to discuss this further. Reading the email back in my head, over and over and over again. "Do not call him! Do not message him! Do not contact him!" were the grave words of warning from my closest of friends. I knew I shouldn't and in my heart I knew I wouldn't do any of those things but a part of me was knocked me over when I heard the news. Question is, how did this happen? Mr. Cheese wasn't meant to be back for at least another six weeks. Why was he home so soon? Did he hate it? Does he have Ebola? Is his family OK, are they hurt? All these pondering's whirling through my brain rushing in every direction. I couldn't make sense of it all and as I reached the bus stop I struggled to see clearly and thought I may faint. What am I going to do? I am completely unprepared for this! Am I over Mr. Cheese?! I should be, but am I? What happens if he calls me? What happens if he has changed his mind about us like I so wish he had before and wants to give us another go, because obviously lets face it I am incredible? What will I do!? 

As the caller answered I spoke in hurried tones as I was abruptly told to calm the fuck down, relax and forget about it. As far as I was concerned Mr. Cheese was still on his Gaaap Yaaar to Ghana having pictures with lesbian-esk Germans. It didn't matter whether he was five-thousand miles away or five-miles away; If he wanted me and really cared about me he would have shown it by now. Besides didn't I have so many other better things in life to focus on that silly boys with heads!? Yes. Las Vegas was nearly to be paid for (Well the flights at least), I was doing well at both of my jobs and I had a good thing going with my social-life balancing act. Panic subsiding but not fully aborted I let Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee get back to work. Scatting in the numbers across my keypad I called someone for the very first time. Answering the phone I was taken aback with the girlish, childlike voice. Confirming who it was I blurted it out. 

"He's Back!" I spilled, continuing without as little as a breath into the blathering's in my head. I was soon halted in my tracks but an unfamiliar voice with a familiar caller ID. In agreement with my best friends I knew that Mr. Warehouse was right too about what I should do, or shouldn't do as the case may be. Suffice to say the evening ended better than it had began and after work I consoled myself in the best way a human can be consoled with a little TLC. Well that and a Peanut Butter KitKat Chunky! 

And so as the weekend finally arrived and Halloween morning I woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed I crowned my head with cat ears and painted on my nose. Today was Friday. Today was Friday the 31st October. Which only meant one thing! Dress down Friday was going fancy dress; Halloween Style! Strutting my style I hailed a bus into work with some odd looks. Arriving into work I was met with a few gasps and giggles along with a multitude of comments about pussy. I even scared one workman coming into the office out of his skin. Haha, obviously not a cat person! Unfortunately though I had forgotten both my tail and whiskers and so wasn't wholly Kitty! I did however have that Friday Feline! (Is it bad how I just laughed at my own joke!)

And so as the moon rose on Friday out came the infamous fancy dress box and I transformed into my second outfit of the evening - A Fallen Angel! Messy back-combed hair, dark lipstick and a studded dog collar I felt about fifteen again and despite resembling something like my mother I knew I was way hotter! Necking a few odd tasting cocktails and surrounded by a dead 1920's flapper girl, the zombie cheerleaders and a couple of werewolves I looked around the country pub. It was ironically dead and after taking one look around me my date and I decided to ditch this joint. So when no one was looking we snuck away into the fresh Autumnal air. Dancing all the way home with what appeared to be a very tired Mr. Warehouse chasing after me I conquered a roundabout, played hide-and-go-peek in a few bushes and even fell through the front door trying to let myself in. Suffice to say that I was a little bit drunk and that work the following day would not be welcome. Saturday sauntered by at a leisurely pace and by the sun set on what seemed to be a wonderfully sunny day I dove into my treasure chest again in search of a fairytale I had longed to be for a while. Snow White! As the partying began with work colleagues and friends I felt every bit the princess I was dressed as, but a little someone was about to show me just how much of a princess I was to them! 

And so I divulge to you all a little secret I have kept. A secret that even innocent Snow White herself would have struggled to keep. Something that will probably come as no shock to those that know me. Words are failing me right now to be sweet and fluffy about this so I shall just come out and say it: Mr. Warehouse and I have slept together!

Not once or twice whilst on a drunken fumble. A few times. Nine times last weekend alone. This weekend we lost count and we weren't even in each others company that long?! Throughout the past week I don't think there is a subject of the sexual language we have not scoped. There have been toys and showers, dressing up and getting down, not to mention the multitude of positions we have got through in the very short amount of time. Hell I can't even remember the last time I had so much fun in the bedroom it physically wore me out to the point of being sore! I mean I know I was settling when with Mr. Cheese but now I know just how much I was selling myself out by! I mean good lord of the heavens above me (which actually is not true since God, Jesus Christ our Saviour and all manor of other religious celebrities do not exist - Science out-ways religion. Fact). What was I thinking even considering being with Mr. Cheese. For nearly a whole year I put up with the constant mind-games and torturous train journeys back home from London just wondering why I felt like such shit when I should have been so blissfully happy even a man with a chainsaw couldn't make me sad. 

Lying there Sunday morning cradled like I was supposed to be I felt at ease. Peaceful and happier than I had been in months I started to wonder why I had been fighting this for so long. Mr. Warehouse definitely wasn't the most attractive man I have ever dated. He wasn't the most intelligent nor was he the most financially endowed. But what he lacked in simple material un-necessaries he more than made up for with wit, humour, fun, tickles, cuddles and all-round freshness which up until a few weeks ago I had lacked ever since Mr. Workaholic left. I never thought that I would find someone who would cherish me in such a way again, prioritise me above everything else and make me feel as if I was worth it. Simple things like making a cup of coffee for me and little pecks on the cheek reminded me over the course of the weekends we have spent in each others company that maybe if I just allowed myself to be happy again that it might just happen. Sex should be fun and at twenty-three that's just what it is. Fun. Not regimented. Not after four episodes of David Attenborough and a Chiswick Ice-cream. Just Fun. Tickles, that turn into kisses, that turn in to fumbles that eventually turn into happy and contented sighs as we lay spooning, in which I have missed this past year ... Alot! 

Now don't get me wrong, Mr. Cheese was great and my time spent with him was absolutely blisteringly and blindingly brilliant at times with some memories I shall hold dear to me forever. But it is time to move on. And move on I shall. Move onto Mr. Warehouse? Who knows but one thing is for sure and that is I am happy when I have him around ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx