Blast From The Past!

Hello there, 


Sushi. Is. Life. After the past year maybe of eating shop faux Sushi made from a combination of chicken and seafood, I have finally made the leap to a mainstream sushi bar. Yo! Sushi in Milton Keynes is I am sure probably farthest from genuine and authentic and Asian or Japanese influenced cuisine, however without the luxury of the big smoke to indulge my curiosities in I was forced to seek out as close to the real thing as I can get my little mitts on, Cali-rolls and Spice-Tuna-Things for the win! 

To say that I thoroughly enjoyed seeing Miss Tweedle-Dee and it was good to try new things whilst doing my favourite thing with my wages and in my preferred method or socialising, eating out. I am not quite sure what made me feel so good about sushi and hanging out with my best friend - Maybe it was the delight of combining my two favourite things or maybe it was the fact that I was feeling much better in myself. A a good catch up and long chat about anything and everything life had to offer us at the moment was certainly what I needed. Whilst my counselling and therapy has stopped for the short time whilst I am between therapists and Private Vs. NHS, I am taking my medication which seems to be doing it's job. 

Not long before we finished our meal and headed home I approach the subject that I had been wanting to bring up for a while. I felt as though my Tweedles were about the only people I could talk openly and honestly about how I felt without being judged or criticised. Not even Mr. Warehouse would understand I think?! You see waaay back in the days of short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner, there was one of the first Mr's in my life. Mr. Woof. Now let me introduce Mr. Woof to you all, (unless you have been reading along since the beginning and then you will already know who Mr. Woof well and truly is from the Viewer Discretion / NSFW earlier days of writing). 

Mr. Woof and I had been friends since meeting in the second year of High School and pretty much as soon as we met our liaisons began. In class and the playground, Mr. Woof was quite shy when it came to being in 'public' as it were with me, even being seen around each other was a no-no, but away from it all and what I used to refer to as the "spotlight" he was a completely different person, almost caring or even loving in a way, something that was never shown when around others. As we got older the intensity was stepped up with more secret meets at lunch and break, soon progressing to after school and even into our Saturday morning GCSE revision classes. But the more we played with each other, both metaphorically and emotionally the more I suffered. The double life we both lead between not talking to each other and almost bullying each other whilst in the company of friends and others was a stark comparison to the electricity we shared alone. But I knew what I was doing, course I did, any sixteen year old does. It was fun and I enjoyed the secrecy of it all. The secret little affair with the boy who I had a stupidly major crush on for ages and who was dating one of my closest school friends. Yeah, I definitely thought I knew it all (and probably still do) thinking that it will all be so different when we leave High School and go to Sixth Form or College, we can finally be together! Haha what a fool ... 

After school ended we went our separate ways, developed as people and went into study. I went on to have several partners, settling down with a few serious ones who loved me no matter the company we were in. Whereas Mr. Woof attempted university, dropped out only to discovered drink and drugs all the while continuing to think that his rock band would become the next big thing. Over the years he turned into something of a misogynistic womaniser and was well known for being a Harlequin around town. Nevertheless though Mr. Woof made an appearance throughout my love-life, weather I was with someone or not, however it must be noted that none of my ex-partners ever took a liking to him and we were always strictly friends when I was in a relationship as being faithful has always been something I fiercely uphold after some hiccups in my earlier years of teenage-living and my fathers betrayal. 

Mr. Woof and I had lost contact for a while after Mr. Workaholic had banned me from communicating with him, but got back in touch a few months after we split. It started as it always had and at that moment the friendly voice of someone familiar was just what I craved. At the time I was amidst a messy break-up Miss Tweedle-Dee handed me the trilogy of books by E. L James; 'Fifty Shades of Grey', 'Fifty Shades Darker' and 'Fifty Shades Freed'. I. Was. Hooked. I couldn't put them down, like everyone I suppose. I decided then to embark on something of my own contract. We had come a long way from my Teenage Dreams Days and so after getting back in contact, Mr. Woof and I began another momentary lapse of loosing our inhibitions and giving into our lustfulness for something we knew so well. Only this time I had some level of control. I had just come out of a long term relationship and wanted something intimate, exciting and confidence boosting. Something NSA to make me smile and brighten up my otherwise gloomy days. I suppose in a sense he was the rebound?! When I talk about it like that it seems as though Mr. Woof was using me to the highest of advantages; abusing the trust and vulnerability of an old friend who was dealing with heartbreak. But I was as much to blame in that as he was. I wanted and needed attention.  I was lacking it both in my job as well as socially as friends and family who lived far from my door. I needed a little something I could dip into as and when I wanted and we weren't hurting anyone. 

After sometime however the novelty soon wore off and we again drifted apart, not through Malice or animosity but simply due to life moving off. Over the next few years of difficult dating dilemmas and finally finding someone I really care about I will be honest and say that I thought about Mr Woof less and less. Until that is the other day when I stumbled across an old social media page. I had seen his profile picture and was intrigued to see what he was up to and we had both changed. I knew that he had got married and settle down with some plain-Jane type. I was certainly not prepared for what was to come. 

Clicking the pages on his social media I discovered that not only had he propose and dedicated his life in marriage, but that he now had a child. Knocking me sideways I was taken aback. I don't know, it is not that I am jealous of his wife and young family, far from it and if anything I am glad that he has found his calling in life as a Dad. Maybe it was the fact that in all of our time together, on or off, we had never discussed marriage or kids, even if the intention was not each other. Then again he is a man and they do not tend to discuss marriage for kids as women do. It is just a little surreal for me to think that someone I thought would never even get married or settle down with anyone is now a father and husband. Oh how things change I suppose. 

It has been playing on my mind a lot over the last few days since finding out last week and I just can't put my finger on it. But as I explained in depth and detail, more than I have here to you, Miss Tweedle-Dee looked at me with a strange expression played across her face as the sushi Carousel continue unknowingly. She didn't need to tell me twice that I was sounding weird and creepy. I came away from our short and brief conversation about Mr. Woof and his family with a heaviness in my heart knowing that time is inevitably ticking along and will soon catch up with me if I am not careful and seeing someone I knew happy makes me feel a little weird about adulting now in the real world. Ahhh someone take me back to the simpler days of Emo bands, short pleated school skirts and thick black eyeliner! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Still Got It!

Hiya!

Who makes up the rules of relationships? Where is the line from just a mild flirt to overstepping the mark? What constitutes as having an affair as opposed to just a fling? And why do we sometimes feel the need to dip our toes in the waters of singles-ville? Now who am I to judge what way you live your lives, but something over the weekend got me thinking. 

Sitting in a nice enough social club in the heart of the Bedfordshire countryside and surrounded by mainly faces I had never met before, I was mildly entertained by my evening at a thirtieth birthday party. With the needy DJ switching up songs every few minutes in order to keep at least one or two people on the dance floor, I was merry without the effects of alcohol. And no, I do not have something wrong with me (cheeky mare, you) but I had a driving lesson the following morning so wanted to be clear and clean ready to get behind the wheel with my instructor. 

After several rounds on the dance floor and a couple of trips to the bar, the night was rounding off to a good ending. But it was about to improve, for who was this Mr. Warehouse was talking to! "Ding! Dong!" I thought to myself as my boyfriend sat and chatted to whom appeared to be an old friend. The stranger soon noticed me sitting their trying to look interested in the tired, 1970-esk decor that shrouded the hall. Extending his hand, all the while sipping red wine from the other I took not of the dark, floppy hair and chocolaty eyes that framed the chiseled face and jumper-clad body. Well that's how my sober mind saw it anyway although you all know how I love to exaggerate. Nevertheless I acknowledged that he was and undoubtedly probably still is a dashingly handsome young man, whoever he was anyway. 

As the evening continued I found myself laughing at all his jokes, bonding over talk of work and what we all do for a living and even convinced him to wear my fedora, pulling it off like something out of a James Bay tribute act. Explaining how Mr. Warehouse and I met filled me with joy strangely and I am still unsure as to why. Maybe it was because I was so giddy that I was in the presence of not one but two equally screwable men, or maybe because I had already seen this stranger check me out and I was proud that I was all Mr. Warehouse's - No sharing permitted! Either way we had a length conversation with the good-looking stranger and his equally funny and friendly wife (yes that's right folks you heard correct - Wife!) and as you do when you are drunk and you plan to go onto buy houses next door to each other, send the children to the same school and eventually get a graveyard plot a few centimetres apart. 

Alas we have yet to go on our first double date with them which we had swapped numbers and made plans to do very soon but this got me really thinking. At what point would you say someone was overstepping the mark in a relationship? Everyone walks down the street or sees someone on the tube now and again and thinks 'Phwoar! I wouldn't kick them out of bed for farting' - A phrase I stole from my good friend Mr. CWG otherwise known as Creepy Warehouse Guy. Now you see why?! But when does it get past that and onto something more sinister. Is it when they stare with an intoxicated gaze at your chest, then look at you with a smirk in their eyes? Is it when they ask you to meet up after work for a quick drink? Is it when your on their sofa and your pants are ... OK we get the picture! But seriously though, what is OK?

Its normal right? I mean everyone has a crush on a celebrity or someone completely unobtainable like their boss at least once in their lifetime, its just life right? I know that the moment Cheryl Cole (or what every her bleeding name is now) is on telly with her new music video, trotting round in a pair of knickers, platforms and a whole heap of not-much-else; I know that my beloved boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse will be out for the count for at least three-minutes. But I don't mind because its unobtainable in the most part. What is dangerous is when it crosses into daily life - The stranger in the social club, the women on the bus. On an almost daily basis sometimes I watch people on my morning commute or that come through the offices be it Male or Female, and I appreciate how hot they are. Sometimes I feel the need to go and congratulate them on dressing well and sometimes I imagine them in underwear.Its naughty and you probably shouldn't do it but its just in your head so it cant really hurt anyone ... Can it?

I feel that this is a huge thing for me as I am always conscientious of not making Mr. Warehouse feel awkward or unloved or left out in social situations as I know I can be a bit (OK alot) of an attention whore sometimes (OK all the time - Jeez) and with this I feel comes part and parcel a little bit of flirting. Now I know where the boundaries lie and when your kissing someone who isn't your other half more than you would kiss your grandma then that's where you need to step away from the adultery and back the fuck off before anyone gets anymore hurt. I don't see anything wrong with kissing someone you have known for a while and that you are friendly with in a normal conventional sense on the lips. Nothing smoochy, just a quick peck on the lips - Soft and swift. Anything longer than a second is awkward and anything longer than three is pretty much "Get the topsoil we have a hoe"!

I'm not saying its OK to cheat or that I myself would, but what I do know from my past experience which I am not proud of being a cheater and being cheated on, someone is always going to lose. What I have taken away from anything on Friday evening was that whilst attractive strangers will come and go, its the people that tickle you on the sofa that matter. I love my Mr. Warehouse more than ever and with his new job finishing in a few moments I will anticipate his arrival home with more love and affection that I had yesterday but less than tomorrow. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

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

The Drought!

Morning All, 

So with last week melancholy nature well and truly put to rest (no pun intended) and with my addiction to boys slightly scarred by the previous few date I have been on I have officially picked myself up and am ready to start again with dating - In more ways than one!

More than six-weeks have passed since I was last laid. Six Weeks! I didn't even know such a drought could happen like this. But whilst I wonder every night laying there drifting off listening to cats killing themselves or my middle-aged neighbours (whom I am pretty sure are swingers) my thoughts turn to why I am not hanging off the end of my black iron bed-frame. I am single. Still. Now this would not be such a bad thing but I feel that in some respects I am more highly sexed than your average female and as a result when I don't get it I end up tense, achy and stressed constantly. The effects of not having regular bodily stimulation takes on a physical as well as mental toll on my gorgeous body (Ironic there you see! Aha). Like today at work. I nearly hid under my desk from all my problem emails and phone-calls but instead I took my lunch and ate Cous Cous to which everyone from the office and adjacent warehouse now thinks I am a Toff! Mental note for future - You know you need to get some when you are reaching for the Ainsley Harriott Red Pepper Couscous in the supermarket. Step away from the freeze-dried goods aisle and hit me up someone on Tinder! And yes I am still addicted ... 

Now whilst being single is definitely not a problem, in fact I think I much prefer myself out of a relationship, at least one that was as stifling as the last one I encountered; I still find that my needs are not being met. You see I am unfortunately a girl whom is unable to satisfy herself. Odd as it sounds and as strange as it may be I have never taken much pleasure in twilight antics of a lone nature. I find it tedious and boring. Its not that I don't like it, its just I don't see the point if I am alone. Besides, for moi, it is so much more thrilling and exciting when it is with someone else. Especially when you have been with that person a fair amount of time and you know that they have the history and skills to bring you there but sometimes just choose to keep you just beneath the peak for pure torturous pleasure until you beg them to stop. Even when your begging it doesn't always have to end. If you have a strong partner who can keep his (or her) cool then asking for something and not getting it is almost as exhilarating sending you into a wild frenzy, just itching for that release. I also have never experienced 'The Big O' yet. Now many men have tried, but most I feel have failed in there quest to bring me that wave of heat and excitement. Disappointing as it is I know that I may be one of the many women of this wonderful planet that never ever get to feel what it is like. But then again a question I always ask my friends - How do you know? I may well have had one and never even known about it. The annoying thing about all of this is that if anyone was even close to getting me there it would have been Mr. Workaholic or Mr. Cheese both of which are slightly absent right now! 

Frustrating as this all is I know that I cannot wholly become fixated on what happens between the sheets. Whilst sex is a fairly sizable part of my relationship with someone, I understand that it isn't for everyone. I need someone who I can have fun with. Something fresh and new, exciting and clean (or filthy). I want to feel giddy and woozy as well as the horn. Am I looking for Love or am I just looking for a good time? This is the question that has been battling me for several weeks now and I feel that now is the time to decide. A boyfriend is just scary and not a necessity I really can deal with right now. A relationship (of sorts) that can be loose and free within reason is something I am tempted by. It intrigues me and teases me with all the possibilities it entails. As time passes by and the longer the dry spell continues the less my 'Number' seems to matter to me. I mean, I could always lie about how many people have seen the downstairs. I remember someone telling me a rule of thumb once - Divide your 'Number' by three and then add one?! That brings me out to 3.33 recurring. How does that work? 

Maybe I need to work backwards rather than forwards with this whole dating thing! Start with the sex and see if it leads anywhere good. And whilst I like the idea of a NSA (No Strings Attached) set up I know it would be unlikely to work for both parties. An NSA programme is good in theory but it can never work when you live somewhere like Bedford where men that are pleasing to the eye are scarce. Plus I think that in the long run it would make me unhappy stuck with someone who I will inevitably fall head over heels for only to realise they like the back of my head rather than the front. If I wanted just sex I would have found that weeks ago but I am not. So what the hell am I looking for? Maybe I am therefore looking for a friends with benefits thing. The two are very different as I have come to discover. Where NSA sex is very much what it says on the tin - wham bam thank you ma'am; a friends with benefits situation is much more pleasant I feel. A place whereby if left long enough and seeds planted a fruitful, loving, nurturing relationship could blossom. The thing that I probably enjoyed most about the first few months with Mr. Cheese was simply having the freedom to do as a single girl can whilst having someone to snuggle up with and go on dates to the local ice-cream parlour. I want the cuddles at night, the spooning, the curled up TV days and the giggles and play-fights that turn into lazy but mind-blowing weekend afternoon sex. Yes, that is where I want to be. 

Naturally I invest too much in people. even in dates that are not dates. It was only just this last weekend I spoke to Miss Tweedle-Dumb of a few dates lined up in the coming weeks jokingly mentioning how Abbey *Insert Last Name* sounds blissfully better than the last few. And as my dear best friend looked at me oddly I secretly envisioned our entire wedding day together like something from a girlie Rom-Com! I seem to start making the omelette before I have even loaded up my egg basket never mind how much is in it. Always thinking far too much into stuff and not letting things go with the flow. As my father said to me the other day after nearly an hour of showing him how to use Tinder that I should slow down and stop hunting for something that will make itself known when it is ready. Pappa Bear explained that I should take a moment for myself and remember that although I am nearly twenty-three, my clock still has a lot of tick left in it. Throughout what he was saying I knew he was being truthful but it still didn't silence that little part of me that thinks that if I reach thirty and am not at least married then I will defiantly be eaten by Alsations by the time I reach thirty-two. He told me I should be young and free, making mistakes and cringingly laughing about them with friends over a bottle of wine or two. I think he was talking about Love, but it could well have been a moment of insanity in which I seem to indulge in - Alot!

And with this in mind I my thoughts immediately turn to a naughty little thing I did the other day. An UnDate - Basically Date that is not a Date or whereby one of the attendees does not acknowledge the alterer motives of such a meeting with said other party. Make sense? Probably not. But not too worry all will be revealed soon after my trip to Ireland but for the time being I can't spill too much, but all I can say is that I better get some oven mittens because I could quite well get burnt by this one ... 

''Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx

A Mothers Love: Part II

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com :) xx

Evening All, 

Scrolling through my social media pages in the lazy haze of a Sunday afternoon I noted the popularity of giving love and appreciation to the single person who bore their very existence. Yes. Sunday was Mothers Day in the UK and amongst endless streams of comments, mother-and-child selfies and lovingly prepared roast dinners I couldn't help but yet again feel that very slight loss of something that had never really existed in the first place ... 

* * *

   Continued ...

* * *

7:56pm and  I was still waiting. I should have been there by half past. And now I'm late. I wouldn't mind but the reasons for my tardiness was not self-inflicted. Yet again my parents were arguing. The divorce had only been announced lass than a fortnight ago and it was several days since we learnt as to the apparent catalyst being my fathers adultery. You see tonight was an important one for me. I was meeting my first proper boyfriend's parents for the first time and I was already nearly thirty-minutes late meeting Mr. Ginge. Finally I could take no more and storming past my pre-teen brother covering his ears so as not to hear I raged up stairs to tell them to stop. After several weeks of fighting and relentless spats my father left. As children, my brother and I were told that he was a useless father and to 'look what he had done to us, just left us' were her words to us explaining his departure. Funny thing is out of the whole experience I can never remember the moment in which my father walked out of the front door. I recall my brother in hysterics, begging him not to go and wailing for his Daddy consoled only by an equally devastated big sister whom yet again was left to pick up the pieces. And like before things fell to me to take care of. The washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning, packed lunches, school bags packed, homework, bills and everything else in between that in my eyes a parent should be doing. As the visits to a particular male friend increased the more and more lonely I became. My brother began to lash out at me not knowing how to deal with such a colossal life change and we clashed a lot. In the end Mother found it easier to simply take him with her on occasions and leave me waiting for their return, sometimes not until the very small hours of the following day. As a result and not unsurprisingly I began to slip deeper into an unknown depression. 

My resentment grew as the weeks passed us by. Weeks grew to months and as I continued to juggle home-life, sixth-form and work it left me little time to socialise with friends or even see my boyfriend. A part of me knew how much of a rock he was in my life but it is only now looking back on our relationship just how much stability he provided. On many occasions I was forced to cancel plans with friends or Mr. Ginge to go home and clean only to be greeted with a blank stare on my Mother's return from a night out with male company. I began to get paranoid. Constantly wondering where she was or who she was with, whether she had a car crash or was dead somewhere. I would never know. She seldom told me or my brother where she was going of an evening and told us that it was her business and not our concern. As a result of a constant not-knowing I would stay up late into the night and even on a few instances would wait until sunrise to make sure my mother came home. A few times she didn't and it was those times that concerned me the most. In my eyes she was still married and as a married women with two children still of educational age should be at home and not out chasing tail. 

I tried to be their for my brother as much as possible but it was hard when at sixth-form all day and then work in the evening. I worked alongside my mother in a school as one of my first jobs so would normally see her coming into work as she was going out. One evening in mid-November I didn't see her car in the car park and when I enquired as to her location the office staff simple shrugged their shoulders as if it was a regular thing. An hour or two later I get a phone call. Its my brother. He's in state crying and hyperventilating down the phone. After calming him down he was able to explain how he had been hungry after getting home from school and didn't know when dinner was so was trying to cook some food. In an accident the oven had caught fire and whilst no-one was hurt and their was no major damage my twelve-year-old brother was in total shock and needed someone with him. Where was my mother. No-one could get hold of her not even the emergency services. After this our neighbours kept a watchful eye on us and a few time had threatened to call social services as a result of the lack of parenting. Motherly intent came soon though as she tried to prop me and my brother in front of a therapist to try and help us come to terms with the divorce and as pointless as it was all I wanted to do inside was scream! 

After months of turmoil and as I sat in a empty house on the 31st of December 2008 I knew things had to change. Just how much they would alter in the next year would be something I could have never predicted. As the temperature cooled even more so than before, so did my Mom's attitude towards me. She started to invite her new beau round to what was once the family home and on occasions we would attempt replicating family time like sitting down to a nice dinner or watching a film. But something didn't feel right. I actively disagreed with her views and opinions voicing them to her and others. Outraged at her behaviour one evening she stormed off as I was left with the house-work. Then in comes this man who happens to be a 'good friend' of hers and tries to give me a pep talk on why I shouldn't answer back to the person who gave me life. Appalled, I told him where to get off and that telling me what to do was my fathers job not his. A spiteful comment followed and from that moment on we never saw eye to eye. As a result I was outcast and never invited to movie-nights or day trips out. 

In the months that followed January that year I was constantly unsure of life. Every weekend without fail as I called my Mom to let her know was staying at Mr. Ginge's for dinner she would create a scene ending either with me having to leave early with no sense of why or threatened with being chucked out. Nervousness and anxiousness took hold every single time I picked up the phone or dialled her number on an unbroken knife edge just waiting for the next fight to break out. On several dates I can recall being told as Mother left with my brother in one hand and car keys in the other that I should be gone by the time she is home. When asked where I should go she simply answered that she did not care. Many a time I found myself in a family members car or on their sofa just crying, begging and pleading them not to take me back. I hated it there. I hated her. I had enough. I wanted out. But no-one knew what to do with me and as the manipulating adult in the situation everyone around me was simply told that I was a troublemaker and that I kept running away. She even tried to get my Dad arrested for kidnap at one point as I sought refuge with my grandparents who happened to be offering him a room since moving out of the marital home. This went on for nearly eight-weeks, a constant cycle of promises and let downs. In between all my other exploits I was still trying to find time when I could steal some moments away with my father whom I missed like mad. Crying out for help as I begged him to help me I knew he was powerless in bringing me solace. That was until we planned a what should have been a wonderful weekend away. It was to turn out very very differently. 

Months of planning an preparation had gone into planning my bank holiday weekend with my father. My brother opted out of spending the weekend with us and so it was to be Dad-and-Daughter time with my grandparents camping somewhere in the countryside. I had planned to go to sixth-form in the morning and take that afternoon/evening off work but on hearing my plans Mother had forbidden it knowing full well that this would hinder my fathers plans of a settled weekend with his baby girl. I decided that for the sanity of all parties I would just tell my Mom that I was going to work when in actual fact I was not. This was a little white lie that was to back-fire in the most cataclysmic way. The evening before was like many prior and I had waited up until 4.30am to make sure Mother was home safe. Reluctantly retiring to bed I knew I would not sleep tonight. As the sun rose on that May morning I heard the familiar sound of a car reversing into the driveway at high speed. The well-known hum of the engine cut out and the car door clunk open. Thin stiletto heels clacked onto the concrete and echo up to the front door where I heard the key turn in the lock and hearing her walk into the lounge and shut the spring hinged door behind her I knew Mother was home. It was less than an hour to pack my bag, make sure everything was ready for my brothers morning ahead and make my way to the end of the road to meet my Dad at the bottom of the road to take me to sixth-form. Trunching down the stairs I knew full well that my mother would be in the front room awaiting my arrival however when crashing through the door I found her in a slumber on the sofa. Noticing she was not awake yet and completely KO I decided to make a run for it. Sprinting to the end of the road in the freezing cold was like a breath of fresh air in my lungs. I had never felt so happy or been so pleased so see the bright red Landrover parked up. I dumped my bag in the boot and hopped in the front, not turning back to look down that street for fear of what I might see chasing after me. 

After finishing double-English Language and Literature I again took pride of place in the front passenger seat alongside my old man. Clipping in my seat belt he turned to me and asked if I was still sure about doing this and what repercussions may happen as a result. I nodded, at that point never more sure of anything else in my life. Take me away Daddy. Save me. As we started our journey the phone calls from Mother began, firstly it was just a text message to see if I wanted to meet up with her for lunch, which I knew was a sign she was on to us as she had never taken an interest before. After that the phone calls became more frantic and constantly making my phone vibrate with aggression and fury at the betrayal. Eventually I answered. It was her. Like a maniac she flew off the handle shouting and screaming at me as my father watched my world fall apart once more in front of his very eyes. The entire three hour journey to the campsite was eaten up by the poison that had been building up for years, infecting me yet again and bringing me to a shaking, nervous wreck. The last thing she said to me was that waiting for me when I get home would be my belongings on the front lawn in black bin bags. A mere shell of my former self I hung up and was taken in by my grandparents on arrival and calmed down. 

The weekend passed in a blur and soon enough it was time to go back to the hellish normality I was bound to. As before I anticipated that the remarks of being thrown out were lies and words of hatred with no meaning just callous intent, although a little part of me did wonder whether this would be it. I didn't have long to wait and as my father and I pulled into my childhood street we both took a large breath and prayed it would be alright. Pulling up outside the suburban home we all once dwelled the engine had barely been turned off before the front door flew open in a fit of rage. Out swang big black bin-liners. My clothes, my shoes, my stuffed animals, my books, my ornaments, my belongings. Everything a seventeen -year-old-girl should have was bundled carelessly into thin bags and deposited as promised on the front yard for all to see. Under instruction from Father I remained in the car. This did not stop the tyrant though from approaching me. As the shouting match started and my case was brought to the table she burst open the passenger side door screeching in my face, bellowing about my wrong doings and how much of an awful person I was. Taking no more of it my father gathered the rest of my things as I bravely fought back tears and shielded myself from her reign of abuse. Getting into the car Daddy yelled at her to let go of the car. She did not. The car was started and the engine growled into action. Daddy said it again and again it was ignored. Taking no more Dad put his foot down and started to drive off. Mom ran after the car attempting to keep up but her less than agile size made it impossible for her to keep up. stumbling her grip on the car and me was loosened and I watched as she screamed at my departure in the wing mirror. 

And that was one of the last encounters I had with my mother. As the years have gone by I have grown up and learnt to stand tall and proud. There were times after that moment where I thought things could possibly be salvageable, but over time her reluctance to accept that whilst I told a little white lie she was mostly in the wrong for throwing her first born and her only baby girl out onto the streets with nothing more than her father's net to catch her as she falls. In the beginning I thought that maybe one-day things could be different and that we would share happy memories together despite our past but I now know that this is fantasy. On occasions we have been in the same room together but it has rarely ended well, either ending up in an argument or one of us leaving. Her manipulating ways have not changed in the past seven years. Nothing has. She still proclaims that I left of my own accord and has even fallen out with her own siblings about this and other things surrounding our non-existent relationship. I suppose in a way I have come to realise that I will never have a mother-of-the-bride. I will never see the tears at how beautiful I look after the labour of my first child. I will never know what it is like to be hugged and loved and told that I am special to her. That is something I know I will never have. But I'm OK with that all because I am in the knowledge that one day I shall share in that with my own children and vow never to make the same mistakes again. 

And so, Happy Mothers Day to one and all, may you cherish your Mom's. Appreciate their love and commitment and all that they bring you because anyone can bring a child into this world, but it takes a mother to raise it. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

How It Can All Change

Morning All, 

What a difference a week can make and how things can change in a matter of moments. I have realised this many times within the last week and more specifically within the past seventy-two hours! And whilst fresh in my mind I shall divulge my week. So Wednesday I finished work only to be greeted with an email when I got home from the agency. Panicking I thought that the last thing I needed was a P45. Cautiously I opened the email to my surprise and great relief it was something of an opposite nature! My place of work had renewed my contract until spring and as a result I could rest a little easier with knowing I had my job until the end of March, assuming I don't fuck it all up. And the celebrations weren't to stop there as Friday approached and the weekend was on the horizon I planned for a weekend of socialising, mingling and meeting new faces. 

Friday night my father, his girlfriend and I attended the surprise 21st birthday party of an old family friend who is due to be married in the summer (I am the photographer and am extremely excited). Upon arrival we didn't know very many people but I mingled with the faces I knew better than others and made small talk with guests. As the birthday girl herself arrived, shocked and surprised as anticipated I gave her a big hug and wished her a happy birthday. After talking to the future bride and groom I was introduced to a strapping young chap whom looked familiar. The face I knew as an old school friend of the Tweedles, but I was playing coy to the party guests as to how I knew him. That is until the groom introduced us to one another across the bar but before the introductions were even started the good-looking male stated that he already knew me. We were given space and started making conversation about Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee and the few memoirs we had of each other from days gone by. As I was sucked in by the Casanova's boyish charm he told me of his hobby as a radio presenter on a local station. And so Mr. DJ was born. Paha. Turns out he will also be disc-jockeying at the wedding of our introducers in a few months time!

We talked for ages about our jobs; himself being a pre-school teacher and myself in the wonderful world of finance. Conversation was fun and flirty but I made sure to keep it as light as possible trying hard not to engage in the classic game of cat and mouse. Oh how I do enjoy a good chase! As the evening continued I socialised more, meeting more people I knew from my educational years in school and college. Soon I had a whisper in my ear that my Dad and his girlfriend were leaving and so I made the decision to stay and pursue more conversation with Mr. DJ. Dancing away the night and enjoying the company I was in myself and Mr. DJ spent more time together, tackling the likes of the Macarena and even the unfortunate event of accidentally kicking a small child in the face whilst pretending to be Wigfield! As the night drew to a close we decided to get in a few drinks and help wind down the party. Staying behind once the lights came on we helped pack away tables, food and lights. As I helped Mr. DJ cornered me and asked how I was getting home. I said that I would probably get a cab to the station and then the train to Flitwick where I was staying the night at my Dad's. It was then that he suggested quiet out of the blue that he didn't mind taking me back to Flitwick since he only lived in the next town along. Flattered at the offer I took it, wondering where my mind had gone as I anticipated a flirty drive home with a hot stranger. 

As I said my goodbyes Mr. DJ and I made our exit and headed out to his car. He mentioned something about it being parked a few roads back from the venue and to apologise in advance for making me wet. I took the comment at face value as I knew full well what he meant by it. Jumping into the modern, little car and in typical DJ fashion he instantly asked what music I liked. I told him I didn't mind and was easy with whatever, apologising again for not having a filter on my runaway mouth. Giggling like a school girl we set off into the darkness, only the street lamps to guide us. I as we approached the outskirts of town I was informed that Mr. DJ was single and I admitted for the first time this year that I was too. And so the seduction commenced and in between embarrassed but flattered giggles I flirted back heavily making sure he knew where I was. As if that wasn't enough, the bluntest and crudest questions came out from our filthy minds polluting the car with a thick aroma of lust and greed. 

Pulling into the driveway of the house my Dad shares with his girlfriend the car ground to a steady halt. As the lights dimmed in the desolate, midnight streets I wondered what I would do now. I didn't have to worry for long! "So am I allowed in for a coffee? Even though I don't drink coffee?" Mr. DJ said. And with that I knew exactly where it was going. Could I get away with this? Surely not! After a brief moment I invited Mr. DJ in and made our way to the kitchen thinking that maybe we could just whisper, naively thinking that we could have a cheeky snog and a fumble in the kitchen and still leave the evening nicely rounded off. Although as time passed I knew that it was a death wish to even bring a boy into the house let alone anything else. I suggested heading back out to the car for a chat and as the glass was left on the side and my hand firmly taken I was lead back to the still warm car. As we drove round the corner so as not to be spotted I jumped in the back seats so as to get comfier whilst getting to know Mr. DJ a bit better now the thumping music and dazzling lights had gone. 

Sobering up in the backseats of the little sports car we instantly hit it off. As our need for something more than subtle flirts increased so did the tension. I tried hard to keep control but the fact that I had been waiting months for someone to take the lead made me succumb to Mr. DJ's domineering ways. Frantic and impatient we tugged at each others clothes as I silently begged him to take me hard like I have craved for so long. I couldn't hold back any longer and before I knew it I was screaming his name as he made my hard, erotic, controlling fantasies come true. As the car stilled we held one another as Mr. DJ climaxed hard. Panting we stayed like that for a while, in an unplanned embrace that neither of us expected a few hours ago. Smiling as Mr. DJ drove me a few meters up the road we made already broken promises to stay in touch. We both knew it was just a fling but the naughty liaison left me quivering all the way to my bed that night. Lord only knows I can't wait for the wedding. Who knows what will happen?!

The following evening was much the same as how Friday had started as it was my Grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. Sadly the only attractive and available men were behind the bar, the rest of the party consisted of people practically awaiting the Grim Reaper. Nevertheless a good evening and no body argued so all was well. Old family and friends gathered round to make the evening a special one and something that hopefully I shall encounter with someone special too. But all this goodness couldn't last for long and as morning broke on Sunday I was awakened with a banging head ache and a somewhat delayed half-hangover. Two nights of drinking and running around like a headless chicken had taken its toll and I was fragile to say the least. Although as my eyes opened for the first time I heard the ping of a text message. Reading I saw it was from Mr. Cheese whom I hadn't heard form in a few days. Conversation flowed into the state I was in and our plans for the day. I explained that I had a date as did Mr. Cheese. Coincidence?

As we messaged each other about our weekend and the anticipated date's I learnt that Mr. Cheese had secured an all important second date with a blonde from South Africa now living in London somewhere. As Mr. Cheese continued I slowly felt the same sickening feeling as I had before when I was with Mr. Workaholic. Imagining a tall, slim city-blonde with a alluring foreign accent and the sex appeal to match I struggled to see why my beloved Mr. Cheese would ever come back to me after something as I was creating in my head. As hard as I tried I knew that a second date would mean there was obviously a spark. Trying not to be a hypocrite, especially after Friday nights antics I kept an open mind, thinking that this may just be a make-or-break date. Keeping an upbeat mindset I made my way to Milton Keynes to embark on my own date. 

Within minutes after locking eyes with my already nerve-shredded date I knew this would not be the man I had hoped for. As we wandered around the city centre hopping from one coffee shop to another I realised that the needy, clingy and awkwardness of this young man was something I was not used to. And so after enduring some mild rudeness, unapologetic bluntness and incapacity to people watch quietly I ended the date. Safe to say that I don't think I will be seeing him again. Although as I settled down in my seat my phone pinged again. This time it was someone I wanted to speak to. So whilst I was sat in excruciatingly awful awkward silences and constantly trying to keep the conversation from drying up; Mr. Cheese was struggling to keep his hands off his date.

Yep that's right everyone. As I had kept my Friday night frolics to a bare minimum in detail to Mr. Cheese he had no such boundaries as he carried on into deep conversation about "how incredibly hard it was not to be that couple over in the corner of the pub". Jealousy erupted and I messaged him angrily back saying that he should just fuck the Zebra-headed bimbo. Mr. Cheese's reply about things going so well with the South African blonde made me realise that it was just too late and that instead of making his feelings stronger for me that they had simply vanished. All in the space of twelve, short days. Truth be told I'm devastated. Knowing that this is what I wanted him to go and do only makes things worse. It makes me sick to my stomach to even think about it. I have lost my appetite and still have not had a proper nights sleep since the ultimatum at New Year. On the one hand I want(ed) him to get out there, explore the world  and what it had to offer before jumping into another relationship that two years down the line could end up in tears again. But then on the other hand I enjoy being single myself; partying and not worrying about who I share the back of a car with. I cant be too hard on him as it is me whom is wearing the same shoes. Difference is that whilst I have tried to hide and tone down my male encounters, Mr. Cheese seems to be rubbing my nose it it only making the feeling that he is slipping through my fingers ever faster. It seems that the rule of 'what they don't know wont hurt them' has been thrown well and truly out the window.

I am trying hard not to let it get to me and think positive thoughts about finally securing the flat of my dreams and moving in within the next few weeks. Mr. Cheese and I haven't spoken since his comments about the blossoming relationship not going sour as I quite simply don't know what to say. I suppose I will just have to get used to the fact that maybe Mr. Cheese just doesn't want me any more.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Lucky Escape ...

Evening,
 
Well, what a week this has been. Here in the UK we have been experiencing some extreme weather conditions, of which have blown of several of my plans! I am very angry at this. It seems that us Brits can't seem to deal with a few drops of the white stuff - I'm on about snow; Filthy!. I mean a single helping of it is enough to bring this country to its knees - OK, now I am playing with you.
 
So this weekend was meant to be mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic mini break away to North-Wales-ish. Wrong. The snow had better plans. And so all our plans for a naked skinny-dipping spa, eating fast food in the bathroom and heading to the shops just to buy an outfit that we would return after our rowdy night out have now all gone to shit because of the bad weather up North. Granted, we have changed the dates, but I don't know whether I can get the day off from work and this is causing some ruffled feathers in the love nest of Miss Chocolat a la Moi. Regardless I am sure that we will be the best of friends soon as we have an impending weekend of havoc to create as the bunny ears are out and we are ready to party like its Easter 2013! I also have an 80's V 90's night to attend with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dee and some other well known faces. So this weekend should be a blast if the bloody snow holds off. It'll give me something interesting to tell of next week.
 
And after last weeks drama surrounding Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that this chapter is now closed and I shall no longer be obsessing, fantasising or thinking of the so-called 'rocker', although I use that term very loosely. In a desperate attempt to gain his attention I did attempt to text Mr. Coffee several times throughout the week, even a phone-call or two, inviting him over for dinner and drinks, but all to no avail. So after logging into Facebook and seeing that he was online I struck up a conversation knowing that he wouldn't be in a talkative mood. Pop! Suddenly to my surprise Mr. Coffee answered back and we started small talk. I asked how college was and he said he was enjoying it especially since there were drama's erupting and romances blossoming. This got me thinking. "Does that mean that your trying to pursue someone then?" I typed, cautious of what the answer might be. He replied with Maybe. I sat there, stunned. A small part of me thought 'Knock, Knock, Oh Hey! You know it might be you that he's talking about?' Knowing that this wasn't the case but still hoping that it was I asked another question, "Was that the case last week?" but silence soon followed. I asked again and this time Mr. Coffee replied. "Sort of - Its complicated, but she wasn't there no" was the weak response that he attempted to fool me with. I hesitated to believe him. Then a surge of energy as the ice melted his hands and they flowed freely across his keyboard telling me how I somehow put him on the spot last week. Not True. And how its all really complicated right now. Calm and collected I started my own scat along my laptop keypad. How dare he! "Whats going on between us?" I asked burning up with a simmering mixture of embarrassment and anger. Again more silence. Again I asked. "I don't think there is anything between us, dude. I just don't think we're right for each other." - Quote and verbatim. I mean who says 'dude' now-days anyway. I'm sorry I didn't realise you were Axel Rose? Humiliation swallowed me up making me feel like a fool in the way of relationships yet again. But at least I know - I'm glad that it took more than eight weeks to get sorted! Seems like it may be a blessing in disguise as the self-proclaimed womaniser moves onto his next piece of meat. *High-Pitch-Gay-Man-Voice* "Uhh, yeah I'm not a Hump-'em-and-dump-'em kinda guy". Yeah ... Much! 
 
Mr. Mot has also made several appearances this week, lending his ear and sharing life as well as yet again asking me to spend some 'quality' time with him. The latest one, is me nursing him back to health and tending to his every need. Every. Need. But as it would happen I don't have any qualifications to nurse anyone back to health and impersonating a figure of authority within the public sector is an arresting offence. Even so I am sure Mr. Mot wouldn't say not to handcuffing me and having his wicked way with a naughty convict.

So here's hoping the weather holds out for me this weekend and stays nice so I can get my claws into a new obsession! Out on the prowl again ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Shock, An Invitation And Compulsory Meeting

Heyy,

So after last weeks interesting episode, I have encountered a shock announcement, a few revelations and an invitation which ultimately brings with it a predicament! Now would you really expect anything different from me readers? I understand that you also felt that last weeks instalment was a tad long and for this a apologise, but hopefully it was worth it in the end. Ill try and keep this one short and sweet.

After finishing a uneventful day at work I decided to call my personal 'Agony Uncle', AKA Mr. Mot. I had not spoken to him in a while and thought that it would be a good idea to have a chat on my usual commute home. We talked endlessly about the weather, jobs and what we were doing that week. Mr. Mot and I also discussed his girlfriend and the progress of their melodramatic relationship and yet again the 'Proposal' was brought about. Again I refused but something inside of me willed me to give in to temptation. I didn't. Further down the conversation we were discussing how Mr. Mot was attending a concert in London over the coming weekend and that his girlfriend was unable to attend. I asked as to why she wasn't making the event, expecting the reason to be something trivial like work commitments or family life. No. "Are you really that stupid?" Mr. Mot asked me. I had no idea what he was on about. Has he told me something and in my old age I have forgotten? Am I going mad? You see, up until this point Mr. Mot had failed to tell me a formidable bombshell that I was stunned to learn about as this had been the case for some weeks now. Mr. Mot had thought he had already told me that his girlfriend was now several weeks pregnant carrying his unborn child. I mean at this point in time it is really only a foetus, a small ball of cells that multiply every so often to gradually transform into a little person. I have known Mr. Mot for several years now and this was a very big shock indeed, not to mention that this added strain has made him question their entire relationship and its future.

Although it did get me wondering about my fate and weather I would be able to have children one day. Obviously not with Mr. Mot, however we have said that if we are still single by our mid-thirties then we shall elope, saving each other from a one way ticket to loserville where lonely single people own several cats and gradually deflate with age until the impending doom of death arrives. Its not like we wouldn't make beautiful children. Blue eyes and blonde hair - it would be like raising a little family that even Hitler would be proud of. But having a baby with someone you love and want to be is equally important when bringing up a child, I think. Honestly though, after hearing from the horses mouth what my ex got up to after we separated was something that brings me joy to this day. But that's a story for another day. What I am trying to say is that I was sure that I wanted all of that with someone and now that its gone, I'm not sure that I will get the opportunity again. Well, until is Mr. Mot and I start the deflation process.

Speaking of the ex, I will be having an encounter this week. I will have to stomach Mr. Workaholic's overbearing ego and poncy manor for a few hours whilst we finalise some financial paperwork that has not been sorted out for nearly a year. His excuse? "I have been busy". Well, unless a porn website has recruited Mr. Workaholic as new member, part of there climax-tester wank panel I doubt you have been very busy. Either that or you have found a new chess buddy *Snorts and snigger's loudly*. I am not looking forward to the meeting however it will be that last I shall have to ever encounter him. Mind you, I said that the last few times I have blessed with Mr Workaholic's presence. Also this week after an interesting invitation from a mutual friend of me and a another, whose name I shall not mention as they may be reading, I may be attending an event with Miss Chocolate. I shall not reveal any more information as I don't want to spoil the fun I may have, but will defiantly update you all on how it goes. As it is St. Patrick's day this coming weekend in the UK, Miss Chocolate and I will be celebrating in true Irish style, although she does not know this yet.

Anyway I think I deserve a nice hot bubble bath. Time to wash away my sins and all that filth of the day.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx