Life After Las Vegas!

Afternoon Everybody!

So my first week back from my Las Vegas wanderings and suffice to say that the holiday blues are well and truly kicking in - Especially since it has been raining pretty much all week long since our last conversation. Which brings me round again to the year that ensues. 

This year I have found myself asking some important questions in terms of my life progression, who I associate with, who I date and what I will do, not to mention where I will travel. Alot of those things I don't know yet and some I do but for the most part I think I have come to realise that at the ripe old age of twenty-four this year I don't have that much to show for it. 

By this point in most Twenty-something's lives they have gone to University, pissed it up at freshers, dated (and slept with) some dodgy people and earned a degree from it all, graduating in long gowns and pointy hats in the knowledge that it will stay on the mantelpiece of their family for years to come as a reminder that they are better than you. If you have not gone down that route (and sometimes even if you have) then you take a Gap Year otherwise known as a "Gaahp Yaarh" for those of a more affluent background! This may include many of the above such as pissing it up with other fellow travellers and dating/fucking some dodgy people along the way. Unfortunately for me I have got drunk many a time and fallen in the gutters of Great Britain, not to mention the amount of wrong-'uns that I have kissed so far on my journey of finding a future-husband. All of this is lovely but the more I commit to the daily grind, the more I feel the need for a random and spontaneous holiday of discovery. 

I need to grow. Expand. Develop. Things in life sometime get too stale and somewhere along the line you loose yourself a little bit. I want to loose myself completely and then re-find me. I doubt this can be done on a two week break to Thailand but that is what I am planning. A chance to make some new friends, meet new people and learn about other cultures. A chance to see the world before life gets any more serious. 

Now don't get me wrong, I love the creature comforts of home and all but I know that within the next five years at least it will be harder to escape, and in ten years it will be practically impossible to get away even for a weekend let alone skipping off for some travelling and self-discovery bollocks. In time I do want marriage and a family of my own but right now there is no need to be so cautious. I am twenty-three and should be as throw-away and carefree as a plastic bottle containing cheap vodka. I think I need to experience this not only for me but also for my future generations - My Children, my grandchildren, maybe even my great grandchildren. Oh can you imagine their wonderment when Grandma tells the kids about the time she rode an Elephant through the forests of Thailand or when she cuddled a baby lion in South Africa or about that fling with a surfer on an Mexican beach at spring break? 

At the moment I have had many a tale to tell about life gone by, anecdotes from dates and general life, but now is time for a change. This year I have already travelled to America. Now its time to conquer Asia as well. 2015 with be the year of travelling and exploring the world. Who knows maybe it will even spill over into next year as well. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

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

Life Should Be Lived

Evening One and All, 

Life and it should be lived. 

This exactly what I told myself when a certain someone pinged into my inbox Wednesday lunchtime. Reading the message and slamming it back down on the already unstable table in the small kitchen at work I noted a concerned look from Mr. Warehouse. Knowing I was unable to lie to him successfully I began to explain myself and my sudden outburst. My African Babybel had text me. I was angry. What made it worse was the now dulling affection that I had for him still lingered. Explaining everything I was judged immediately and told to block, dispose and delete Mr. Cheese from my life. Easier said than done but actually over the past fortnight I have found it is getting easier. More-so now that I know he isn't a ten minute drive from my bed. 

Lets face it. What was really good about it? I am sure that I don't need to divulge to those that are regular readers that between the sheets was chillier than I would have liked, especially for a couple less than a year into a relationship. It wasn't great really was it. Mr. Cheese was never the man I would marry, my baby-daddy or the person I would spend my golden years progressively hating but continue loving. No. It was a nice thought that I stumbled across many a time but something I knew was unachievable. I wish it was different but it is not. Miss Tweedle-Dumb said to me the other day something that hit a nerve and something that I never had thought about before. She said that "Mr. Cheese never loved you like you knew love before. Mr. Workaholic was your everything as were you for him but with Mr. Cheese it was never even close". I fully understood what she was trying to say and in all honesty I think it was true. Mr. Cheese never loved me, despite how much I wanted him to. But on the one hand maybe that was a good thing, protecting me in the long run from myself and my own ideologies. 

Wednesday Afternoon was not wasn't the first time I had heard from Mr. Cheese and it certainly would not be the last for as the sun set on a Saturday evening another dreaded ping sounded my eardrums. Light conversation ensued and with it some tit-bits of information on how life was in the waste-land of Ghana. I could tell that he was missing home and also my company but this had to stop. I did something I had promised myself I would not do. And as I began scratching at the surface of my smartphone, I wrote:
"I really didn’t want to do this but I feel now that I have to in order to gain some control of the situation. I love you and you will always have a piece of my heart but I can not carry on like this. I need to move on. I desperately wanted it to work for us but it was you who ended it, not me. You only have yourself to blame. I am sorry that things didn’t work out for us but that was your own doing and now I am afraid you will have to deal with the consequences of your actions. There is not a moment in my day in which you are not in my thoughts but you gave me up remember and I can’t continue with this any longer. I will always be here for you and your family should you ever need me but I cannot and will not wait forever. I deserve more than this. I'm Sorry."

And with that my wings came yet again. As strong as they were before I finally renounced Mr. Cheese and found myself rising above his egotistically hedonistic reply. I did deserve better. "If Mr. Cheese can't love me then he shall have to let go so that I can find someone that will" I thought to myself. Yeah! Fuck you man! I thought as I continued with my new obsession - American Horror Story! If Mr. Cheese couldn't satisfy me in every way then why the hell am I still getting hung up on it. I need to build a bridge and get the fuck over it! 

Feeling empowered I turned to my growing little black book and primly placed at the top of that list (at present anyway) is Mr. ToyBoy himself! Ever since our blissful First Date a few weeks ago I had been desperate to see him again. Sadly though the messages have been fleeting and it seemed almost as though our second date was just a bunch of words said to end our first encounter on a favourable note. Approaching this subject with tenderness I asked Mr. ToyBoy why it was that we were postponing our Second Date a third time. Bracing myself for an honest rejection from someone nearly four-years my junior I opened the text. To my surprise it was completely on the contrary. Compliments and apologies aside, between the lines Mr. ToyBoy seemed almost upset at not being able to keep to our earlier appointments and was feeling anxious in wanting to go on a Dinner Date with me. So we have agreed that whilst we have both been busy with work, friends, family and school - I mean college - we will hopefully rearrange our date for the weekend after my birthday. After all rescheduling is what I do for a living.

Rescheduling however will not be on my to do list come Friday night when my weekend of celebrations continue. Whilst Thursday will be the day in which we all mourn another year towards my death, Friday will be party time as myself and a whole bunch of guys and gals from work will be hitting Bedford Town Centre to get down and get funky with the best of 'em! Saturday morning I plan on waking with a size-nine in my bed and after shoving him out the door I shall nurse a fuzzy head whilst sipping fresh coffee and snaffling up the rest of my Subway like a slob until my girls arrive. Dressed to the nines in what I hope to be fancy-dress, I shall yet again be set loose onto the streets of Bedfordshire in the hope that many shots shall be swallowed and many a man shall be flirted with. Sunday Morning will be a time for reflection as I shall bid farewell to the partying antics for another year and head back home to my Grandparents house in Luton to visit family and take sanctuary in a good old roast dinner with all the trimmings and a good old chin-wag with Nanny. 

And whilst I am excited for the merriment, I am also well aware of a phone call from someone less than festive. Mother shall be calling. Something I know she takes great pride in doing every year. Not only for the fact that she can spoil one of the only days in the year I get to take pleasure in but also the fact that together with my Father she birthed me and so has a small role in my creation which she feels the need to reinstate every year. I am however prepared for it as I always am. I shall be at work and my schedule is looking busy with meetings all day, a steady flow of paperwork to get through and other activities to keep me occupied I am positive that I will not let her burden my day any more than the minutes she wastes breathing to me words of many happy birthday returns, all laced with poison and hate. 

And so I must dash. I have a million and one things to do before the euphoria begins and one of them is sorting out what I am going to wear on Friday along with the theme for Saturday, preparing food and drink for Saturday night, doing the washing, making sure the toilet is scrubbed and ensuring that those roots are touched up! So much to do and so little time - I wouldn't have it any other way!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx