The Argument That Was Not An Argument!

Hello Dears, 

So with less than a fortnight to go I can safely say I am well into the festive cheer. Humming Christmas songs whilst squirrelling away at my desk and decking out the office in tinsel and baubles was only the beginning of my week for it was, and still is, the weekend I live for. And this weekend was no different because like many people it was the office Christmas party and a party at my place of work is more than a couple of bottles of natty wine, naff party hats and Eric from Accounts hogging the Karaoke machine!

"When was it that Friday's became the new Monday?" I mentioned to a work colleague as I scrambled around my desk. "Friday's always used to be the slow day when the phone would never ring let alone checking my emails" I carried on as I started to prepare to leave for the day. It was just after lunch on Friday and I had purposefully come in early so I could finish with enough time to get home and ready for tonight. 'There is still so much I have to do!' I thought to myself as I reluctantly left my desk feeling unprepared and as if I was missing something. Meeting Mr. Warehouse in Reception we left and were wolf-whistled by some of the lads having a leisurely cigarette break. 

Heading into town we departed and went in separate directions for much of the same thing. Both in need of a haircut, myself especially, I was escorted by my loving boyfriend (Its still weird saying that!) to the salon and then again afterwards I was collected. Although I never anticipated that Mr. Warehouse would have gone to the trouble of buying me the most beautiful, and fairly expensive looking bouquet of white roses I have ever seen. Blown away and completely speechless, which as you know is rarer than rocking horse shit, I struggled to fight back the smile that was cracking my face in half. Playing coy I was bursting with a heady mix of lust, happiness and that other 'L' word! I mean these flowers were insane; Not my favourite mind but in all honesty it didn't even matter because they were better than I had ever had before. Not even Mr. Workaholic or Mr. Cheese had bought me anything on the magnitude. With the sun now gone and the stars coming out I was more than excited for tonight and this huge bunch of flowers bigger than my head just made me even more-so.  

I was ready with plenty of time to spare to redo my hair, fix my lashes and attempt a Cara Delevingne inspired eyebrows! Sliding my dress over my primped and preened body, hairless in every necessary place and pampered within an inch of its life I was ready. Slipping on my heels I walked into the lounge of my bachlorette pad and was greeted by a gasp and a gaping mouth. 'Now that was the reaction I was looking for!' I said to my self feeling pleased that my newly acquired Beau approved. In a way though I sort of expected it but it was nice all the same. Stepping out into the frosty night air I could tell already it was going to be a good night; but whilst I was ready to get on the dance floor and hit up some shots, with the sexual frustration and stresses of work built up against me and my other half I knew that we wouldn't be able to keep our hands of each other. 

As we arrived at the venue, a somewhat small but posh looking restaurant in a tiny village on the outskirts of Bedford I became anxious. I hate being early and would have much preferred being a good ten-minutes if not more late than to be stood at the bar early like some sort of prized Lemon. Nevertheless before the barmaid even had a chance to take our coats the others arrived, everyone was here from the office staff to the engineers, sales reps. to drivers. Immediately I took my seat amongst where I hoped conversation would be lively. But before I even sat down I wanted to mingle and so I began making the rounds, saying the 'hello's' and 'how-are-you's' that is expected at such an event. Bumping into one of my sales reps I noticed his eyes nearly fall out his skull when he noticed it was me. Wearing a glittery dress from Lipsy and my hair freshly styled and dyed I don't think he would have recognised me. Acknowledging maybe his own reaction he composed himself, put away his tongue and complimented me from that moment onwards throughout the evening on how good I looked and what a lucky man Mr. Warehouse was to have such a stunner. 'No. That's the kind of reaction I was expecting!' I thought to myself as I smugly swayed my hips to the bar in search of another Screwdriver. 

As the evening took hold and more and more compliments were shared around the table that contained nearly fifty of us, I began to feel the love blossom and bloom from even the coldest one in the office. Seems like the free wine and good food was defrosting some of the chilliest of colleagues. Flashes of cameras and Selfies galore were taken and I honestly felt in my complete element. I don't think I could have or ever have been happier than right there and then. Seeing the starters flow out from the kitchen people took to their seats and began to eat, making small talk with the people they shared crackers with also. Seating myself down next to Mr. Warehouse and company I was aware that already I had drunk nearly a bottle and a half of wine. My starter had not even left the kitchen yet and already I was pissed as a fart and laughing hysterically at lame jokes my colleagues were telling me. By the time my Veal main course had arrived that one and a half had become two and as dessert was placed neatly in front of me I could barely contain my excitement at cheesecake as I dived into it not thinking about pausing for a nice Instagram shot or even a ladylike grace. No, all I could think about was the buttery biscuit base and yet again more wine!

Soon Dinner was over and as the live singer began to belt out hits that were older than half the workforce I stopped at nothing to get myself and everyone else on the floor. It didn't take much and before I knew it I was crying with laughter at some of the shapes that were being thrown. Now admittedly you look at some people and you just know they are a Dad dancer but some of these moves were just plain criminal. I felt for several minutes that I had been transported back to the fifties, sixties and seventies with all the hip movements and Elvis inspired wiggle-waggling. Finding it hard to breathe with all the ridiculous dancing I headed outside to catch my breath. Joined by some of the other smokers we discussed the rest of the evening and how we would soon take this party to town and hit the bars and clubs of Bedford in search of music that didn't exist only on vinyl. A few sneaky, cheeky cigarettes later and I was starting to feel the peak. 'I couldn't have reached my limit already can I? Surely not?!' I said to a rather woozy self in the posh toilets. Attempting a chunder I knew nothing would come yet and so left the comforts of the bathroom hoping I would not have to make an unclassy dash to the bathroom holding my mouthful Veal-Smoothie. And so, straight back to the dance-floor I go! 

As the lights came on we noticed that a few colleagues had already left. Some had decided to call it a night there and then and I think Mr. Warehouse saw it that way too. But I had other plans and so did everyone else and they certainly did not include heading home minus a Subway and sore feet. Bundling into a Taxi the remained of the party-animals headed for the town centre. As grumpy and as tired as he was I refused to let Mr. Warehouse control what I was going to do. 'He promised and said he would come to town with the rest of the gang so by god he will do as he says!' I said to myself willing him to stop having a temper tantrum in the parking lot and just come get in the Cab. Finally he agreed and we were on our way. Pleading with him to just suck it up and have a good time did not work and within minutes of resting his body into the comfy seats of the Hackney Carriage Mr. Warehouse had fallen asleep. Hearing his snores I wondered what to do with him when we finally arrived. But I didn't have too long to think about it as we pulled up to the curb outside the main high street I had to force the man out of the car. 

Stumbling onto the busy early morn streets, packed with revellers and nearly chucking out time I grabbed his arm and made a dash to the entrance of the bar where my colleagues had just slithered into. After paying out for the first time that night, Mr. Warehouse and I entered through the dark glass doors into the smoky, vodka-infused, heated atmosphere. Immediately Mr. Warehouse found himself a sofa adjacent to the crowds we came with and proclaimed he was not moving until he was given the keys to my flat so he could go home and sleep. I refused, unwilling to pander his childlike attempts at arguing. 

"This was not going to be our first argument! You are here now, I have paid for you to get in so just be grateful and enjoy it. Were only here for an hour!" I said over a pounding baseline that was summoning me to the underground dance-floor. With only a grunt and a grumble as a response I gave up and headed towards the music with Mr. CWG and the rest of the lads leaving Mr. Warehouse to wallow in self pity whilst guarding my fur coat and bag. 

Seeking affection any way I could I constantly returned to Mr. Warehouse with the in-vain attempts to get him up and about. I was met with hostility and defiance every time and so I took to the rest of the crowd to search out comfort of which more booze and dancing helped. At one stage I even recall being in the middle of the dance-floor with this tiny framed lass with curly ginger hair. As we started the flirtatious climb to an ultimate peak of girl-on-girl action I wished that Mr. Warehouse could be here to both give his approval and also see his hot girlfriend make-out with another girl. As the lads and boys of the floor took notice they could sense something was about to break. Feeling it all getting too heated and without my man beside me to enjoy it with I loosened off and headed back to check on my couch potato. This went on for sometime; dance-floor to the bar to the mopey Mr. Warehouse and then back to the dance-floor again before Mr. CWG grabbed me by the arm making some excuse about the basement being even more heavier. Pushing our way through the crowds we found a quiet spot and finding it odd that we were not descending any stairs I went to ask what this was all about. But before I got an chance to open my mouth Mr. CWG asked why Mr. Warehouse was being so grumpy. I said I didn't know but it was beginning to get on my tits. Becoming restless with the situation I went back to my lover in the hope that he would try just once. Nope. Nothing. 

Giving up I slipped back down to the dry ice and DJ booth, noticing that there was many a fanciful man out in town tonight. 'Oh how I do love being in a relationship!' I pondered. This wasn't fun any more. Trying again one last time I asked my dear boyfriend to join in. Snapping slightly and with a bite that said more than that he was just tired I decided to call it a night. Reluctantly I snatched my fur coat, yanking it onto my arms and snatching at my bag I yelled at Mr. Warehouse to in my words "Get the fuck up and out of this place before I kick you in the head you miserable arse!" Not saying any goodbyes we left, seeing more than I think we needed to see on the way out and in some respects leaving me questioning all things I once thought were true. 

The entire walk home to my flat we did not utter a word to each other. I pounded the pavement in front as a now sobering and somewhat sorrowful Mr. Warehouse followed my raging soul. A few apologies were echoed into the night air but I simply stuffed them in a place darker than the sky itself. Angry, upset and aggravated that not only have I let him win and have his own way but that I have also let Mr. Warehouse spoil my night and have had to be one of the first to leave the club. It didn't matter that it was close to closing time anyway, in my drunken state he had riled me something rotten. Getting in I did what I always do after a night out and sprawled myself on my soft double bed, starfishing all the way. I could hear Mr. Warehouse pottering around in the background of my flat, making little noises and having any excuse to still look in on me. Eventually it came down to if he would take the couch and realise that he had done wrong or would he try to sleeze back into bed with me. I couldn't be angry at him forever and now that I had puffed and panted my way home the aggression now disappeared to leave a wanting and needing for my lover to come cuddle me and comfort me, despite him being the pompous fool in all of this. 

Cuddling up we bare said anything but in the morning we had the strangest make-up sex, because in actual fact we hadn't really had an argument to make-up for?! Spending the rest of the weekend in a blissful harmony we enjoyed each others company; eating junk food, pulling out the sofa-bed and playing The Biscuit Challenge whereby you place a biscuit on your forehead, chocolate side down, and attempt to get it into your mouth without dropping it - And yes, I won! Sunday was spent apart as a flustered Miss Tweedle-Dumb needed some help Christmas shopping and to my surprise Mr. Warehouse was more than happy to let me go off and for him still to be there when I cam home after a long day of shopping in Milton Keynes. I think that maybe Sunday away from Mr. Warehouse helped in a way as Miss Tweedle-Dumb was able to let me see that being up for nearly twenty-four-hours like he had and witnessing some things had probably not helped with my boyfriends foul Friday night mood. 

My Sunday afternoon with my best friend made me acknowledge that whilst he is not the best in the bunch, he is the most caring, charismatic, funny, caring and lovable creature I have come to find myself falling in love with. We both know that I am a little out of his league but lets face it, I have had my own league several times and look where that got me!? Even as I sit here now typing to you, he is tending to his face, moisturising and making sure he can be the best he can be for me. What more could a girl ask for?! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx