Morning there one and all,
Still the saga continues with my energy company, British Gas (See post - 'An Electrifying Discovery'), but after a very much exhausting but mildly luxurious mini-break and wedding weekend away in Wisbech, it was time to leave behind the peace and tranquillity of the green and rather flat countryside of Cambridgeshire for it was finally time for the Annual Awards Ceremony with work ... And boy was it about to get messy!
Dressed in a long gown, lace gloves and perspex shoes in tacked and with my hair primped and preened within an inch of its life I was finally ready for the ball and ready to make my entrance as Cinderella . But as I approached the venue, noticing poodle skirt after poodle skirt with the odd tuxedo mixed in for good measure too I wondered to myself secretly, as I always do when I make a big effort in my outfit, as to whether this was A - Appropriate and B - If it was wholly relevant to the 1950's theme we had been tasked with. Asking myself these questions my cocky-self butted in and said to stop being ridiculous I looked fabulous and should not care for others opinions. Cinderella was created and born in the 1950's by Walt Disney himself and so I should be thrilled to be one of the most memorable characters from that decade.
I certainly looked the part and as I sashed past the vintage bright pink cars and Teddy Boys I was greeted by my fellow colleagues, consisting of two Woody Woodpeckers, A Bowling Alley Guy, Cat in the Hat, a Geek, a Prep and some sort of Elvis. Ahh yes we were all ready to get funky and down to some Rat Pack beats, but not before we sat down to our three course meal and sat through the awards ceremony. As I chopped and changed between whether to continue drinking the god awful White wine that was on the table or the nicer bottle of Red I caught the rambling of my Big-Big Boss.
Scheduler? Significant impact to the company? Help in the start up and running of the business over the past year? Suddenly my name was called out. I had won an award. Me! Abbey Louise in receipt of an acknowledgement for hard work! An award! I was chuffed and as I made my way through the crowded tables; cheers, whoops and holla's all the way and high-fiving my sales rep on the way passed I knew that I had finally found somewhere to belong. A company that treasured its employees and rewarded hard work and growth. I was also awarded with a substantial sum of high street vouchers and look forward to utilising them very, very soon.
Making my way back to my table, slightly bewildered and a little shocked I had won something after only being with the company just over a year I saw some familiar faces that I would speak to regularly but never saw face to face. They all congratulated me on my award and cooed over my dress, although I think one women got confused as she kept singing "Let it go" to me from Disneys Frozen. Elsa. Cinderella . Well I suppose they both wore a blue dress and were somewhere along the line princesses so I can see the correlation, especially for the drunken sole that she was.
As the night continued Mr. Warehouse and company joined me on the dance-floor where some serious shapes were being thrown, especially from that nice, award-giving man, my Big-Big Boss. And when it all got a little too hot and steamy, which for some guests it obviously did, there was the patio areas in the surrounding grounds that we were able to smoke and catch our breath. In between mingling, dancing, spilling red wine down everyone I was impressed that there was so many attractive young men in the company, many of whom seemed single and up for more than a mingle. A couple of sweet lads in particular I had a chat with and they had complimented my outfit of choice as I did theirs (a smashingly dashing suit to be visual to you all). Tall, dark and handsome I soon was at ease with the attractive man, although I knew that eyes were burning at me from across the room so tamed my flirting and took it down a notch or two from my usual.
But that didn't stop a second bachelorette trying his luck. Slightly shorter than I was, probably would have been equal if I had taken off my two-inch jelly shoes, he approached me from across the floor and as we said our initial greetings I revelled in the fact that there was a common ground already in the sense that we were all from the same company just different sections of the UK. I could see now why there was such an appeal at these kinds of events just to cop=off with someone and know that certainly for a year at least you wont have to see them or even speak to them, by which point they might forget what a horrible snorer you are and sleep with you a second time. Nevertheless we chatted for a bit before I went in search for more Red wine, which for those that know me personally, know I most certainly never, ever drink Red but for some odd reason, maybe it was free I don't know, it tasted much better than the White and so down the hatch it went!
As the night drew to a close and the party goers slipped off to their bedrooms, some revellers still going headed to the second hotel bar but instead I decided to call it a night, put the glass of Merlot down and hit the sack, Mr Warehouse not far behind me.
Abruptly awoken the next morning by the fucking bin lorries for the wanking rubbish I finally knew a little bit what everyone kept saying about a wine headache! Yes I think I had a slight hangover and as my phone bleeped full from messages from drunken colleague the night before and requests to meet downstairs for breakfast I rolled over and prodded my very, very grumpy boyfriend. With a few grunts and grumbles we finally made it to reception where we found a few stragglers from the night before, but from under my sunglasses I could see they were still just as pissed as I was. Like a bear with a sore head Mr. Warehouse and I made our way to breakfast and after stomaching a few items and a whole lot of juice we awaited our car-sharers to drive us all back home.
Pulling out the Sofa-bed it didn't take me long to fall asleep and in the comfort of my own home dreamt of the next Annual Awards Ceremony with work in 2016 - Bring. It. On!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Attention. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Attention. Show all posts
Monday, 18 May 2015
Monday, 1 September 2014
Age Is But A Number ...
Evening Everyone,
So I hope you have all had a good week. I know I certainly have, well at least the weekend anyhow. After finally being reunited with my office and working all week at my desk through the mountainous region of papers and fresh leads I eventually made it to the weekend. With nothing much planned other than catching up on sleep, watching trash TV, and my last supper with Mr. Cheese before he ventures into Africa. Oh yeah, and a little thing called a first date!
So I met Mr. ToyBoy on a dating website called Plenty Of Fish several weeks ago and have been chatting ever since. We swapped numbers a few weeks ago before I went to Reading Festival and arranged for our First Date once I was back. So Saturday soon rolled round and I was shit hot as I walked out into the cool and still undecided English weather. Making my way into town I didn't feel nervous at all and was at ease with yet again another First Date that could go hideously wrong. "Can you even top a date with a clown and someone who is possibly still married to a Thai prostitute?" I thought to myself as I bumbled along the bus route. Arriving at the specified destination I waited patiently. At twenty-minutes too early I was beginning to get anxious. Would he even arrive? Has he already arrived, took one look and legged it? Will he look like him? Was it really a good idea to wear a faux leather shirt to a First Date? Nerves getting the better of me I messaged him, letting him know I had arrived. Seconds later I heard a ping.
"I thought we were meeting at half-one? :) xxx" The message read. Checking my calender I felt like the biggest penis in the universe. Making up some excuse and face-palming myself I wandered into the town centre for some window-retail therapy to compose myself, laughing all the way. "How stupid of yourself. Gosh Abbey you are such a tool sometimes!" I silently scolded as I looked at Blanket Capes of the new Autumn/Winter 2014 collections in the high street stores. Returning to the meeting spot I anticipated the arrival of my date. At just twenty I was sceptical on his idea of what this encounter may lead to and at nearly three-years his senior (God I am so old) I worried about the compatibility. As his waltzed round the corner I swooned as his arms pulled me into his tall frame. A quick cuddle was quickly followed by a brisk walk in hunt of the coffee shop I had already picked out on my walk to work the morning before. Conversation was electric right from the get go and he was more attractive than he was on his dating profiles or his social media pages. A good and proper TDH - Tall, Dark and Handsome.
Seating ourselves in the middle of the coffee house we sipped on hot chocolates topped with marshmallows and cream. I couldn't help but notice flecks of amber in his already deep brown eyes. "Best put on my water-wings I might fall in" I chuckled to myself. Giddy with excitement we chatted away about all manner of things from usual things like films and music to festivals and holidays. No subject I think was left untouched as we skipped from tale to tale involving everyone from family members and friends to the latest headlines. Before we knew it I felt as though I had known Mr. ToyBoy for years and with my initial concerns that my young date was not what I was looking for in this whole world of dating I soon noticed that I was having more laughs with him than I think I had in a long, long time. He was young and fresh and new and exciting. Something my life had been lacking for a few months now. Parts of my date intrigued me. Like why would he want to go on a date with me first of all? Although I may party like I was born in 1994 sometimes I am still a respectable twenty-something with a fast approaching birthday which will then leave myself and my date exactly three years, eleven months and several days difference in age. The fact that in conversation Mr. ToyBoy explained that I was only a few months younger than one of his sisters made me question why I had even said yes. But then I realised that there was a massive grin splitting my face in two and I was having the time of my life. Ahh yes, that's why!
As the Date continued I thought that it might be a good idea to take a walk along the river and since Mr. ToyBoy had not really been to Bedford before I thought I would highlight the good bits of the City. Walking along the edge of the river bank we stopped at the foot of a familiar bridge. Pushing aside memoirs of Mr. Cheese and butterflies I was ushered to take the first steps onto it. Almost as a right of passage I did so knowing that barely twelve months ago I was doing the same thing with a different face. Upon reaching the other side we continued our conversations, well, that was until we saw the cutest little ball of fur bundling along the gravel path winding round the river. Simultaneously we whispered about how sweet it looked and our fury at not having a puppy like that. I turned and looked at my date as he did to me. A mutual love for dogs! Bliss. As we unintentionally followed the canine and its owners we kept brushing hands. As wonderful as it was I wondered about when the first move would be made if ever. Just then as we overtook the fluff-pup and after giving it a little pat on its soft head, Mr. ToyBoy gently and sweetly took ahold of my hand. Heart skipping slightly I felt my face crack once more. Trying to hide my excitement, head-thoughts turned to Mr. Cheese and how much effort and courage it took for me to build up and ask him to hold my had as we waltzed the hot streets of Kensington and Chelsea back in the summer of last year.
Settling down on a bench I could tell what was coming next. Nervousness racked his Rugby-playing body as he obviously pondered on how to approach my lips. Secretly knowing what my Date was planning I pouted and made my face look as cute as I could. More chatter took over though and before long we were deep in conversation about my inability as a graduated Media Studies student to have gone through my course not watching classics like Lord of The Rings and Disney's Frozen. I think I may have even had a solo performance of Let It Go?! Laughing along he asked if I was cold. I said yes. Without another word I was forced into a cuddle. Snuggling into his chest I mentioned about my furnace-like heat that I seemed to give off. Mr. ToyBoy agreed and followed up with a comment that made me think that maybe age didn't matter so much.
"I wish I had met you sooner Abbey. You make me feel really at ease and have made getting better easier." (He was poorly with a case of probable man-flu earlier in the week) Mr. ToyBoy said in a deep whisper. Turning my head up to face him I saw his brown eyes gaze into mine. As the curtains fell over our peepers and our heads turned I knew it wouldn't be long before I got to know just how mature he was. Locking lips I could feel the delightfully light but intense pressure on the nape of my neck as we kissed passionately in the increasingly chillier weather. Gently teasing each other we got into a rhythm and continued for what was only mere seconds but in which I wished could never end. Breaking from the lustful make-out sesh I returned my head to Mr. ToyBoy's shoulder and looked out to the still water of the river. I smiled at the tactical positioning of where we had chose to indulge in our first kiss. On the left was the wrong bridge. On the right was the right bridge. Somehow I felt at ease with my decision to move on from Monsieur Cheese. I was happy and smiling and potentially had someone here with me holding me in his arms that wanted me. Just as I took reflection on how at ease I was and to the last person I shared with part of the world with I felt a little peck on my hairline. Sweet as it was I think I knew then that I really liked my Date.
After getting caught in a rain storm and nearly catching Hypothermia we called it a day and headed back to town so we could make our own ways home. Unfortunately due to the rain (and not the fact that we were stopping every few steps to have a cheeky kiss in said rain) Mr. ToyBoy had missed his connection home. So before calling a cab we headed into a Caffe to get warm and dry as well as indulge in a little sweetness in the form of two more hot chocolates and a white-chocolate Blondie to share. "He can share this Blondie any day!" I pondered arrogantly to myself as I took a lady-like gulp from my creamy concoction. Sharing out the treats of yet more marshmallows, crumbly chocolate and nutty brownies conversation ebbed. I didn't really know what to say, although I knew the Date itself would have to end at some point. Rising from the table we stepped into the fresh outside and dialled for a driver. As we said our goodbyes we both agreed on having a wonderful afternoon in each other's company. Another smooch before I dragged myself away, struggling not to skip all the way home.
Mr. ToyBoy. The one to bring about the question of age-difference. The one who makes me feel like I am fifteen again. The one who makes me quander what I am really looking for in 2014. In all honesty I don't know. But I know one thing for certain and that is that if the first Date is anything to go by, the second Date will be just as electric. Date number two - Bring it on Mr. ToyBoy!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So I hope you have all had a good week. I know I certainly have, well at least the weekend anyhow. After finally being reunited with my office and working all week at my desk through the mountainous region of papers and fresh leads I eventually made it to the weekend. With nothing much planned other than catching up on sleep, watching trash TV, and my last supper with Mr. Cheese before he ventures into Africa. Oh yeah, and a little thing called a first date!
So I met Mr. ToyBoy on a dating website called Plenty Of Fish several weeks ago and have been chatting ever since. We swapped numbers a few weeks ago before I went to Reading Festival and arranged for our First Date once I was back. So Saturday soon rolled round and I was shit hot as I walked out into the cool and still undecided English weather. Making my way into town I didn't feel nervous at all and was at ease with yet again another First Date that could go hideously wrong. "Can you even top a date with a clown and someone who is possibly still married to a Thai prostitute?" I thought to myself as I bumbled along the bus route. Arriving at the specified destination I waited patiently. At twenty-minutes too early I was beginning to get anxious. Would he even arrive? Has he already arrived, took one look and legged it? Will he look like him? Was it really a good idea to wear a faux leather shirt to a First Date? Nerves getting the better of me I messaged him, letting him know I had arrived. Seconds later I heard a ping.
"I thought we were meeting at half-one? :) xxx" The message read. Checking my calender I felt like the biggest penis in the universe. Making up some excuse and face-palming myself I wandered into the town centre for some window-retail therapy to compose myself, laughing all the way. "How stupid of yourself. Gosh Abbey you are such a tool sometimes!" I silently scolded as I looked at Blanket Capes of the new Autumn/Winter 2014 collections in the high street stores. Returning to the meeting spot I anticipated the arrival of my date. At just twenty I was sceptical on his idea of what this encounter may lead to and at nearly three-years his senior (God I am so old) I worried about the compatibility. As his waltzed round the corner I swooned as his arms pulled me into his tall frame. A quick cuddle was quickly followed by a brisk walk in hunt of the coffee shop I had already picked out on my walk to work the morning before. Conversation was electric right from the get go and he was more attractive than he was on his dating profiles or his social media pages. A good and proper TDH - Tall, Dark and Handsome.
Seating ourselves in the middle of the coffee house we sipped on hot chocolates topped with marshmallows and cream. I couldn't help but notice flecks of amber in his already deep brown eyes. "Best put on my water-wings I might fall in" I chuckled to myself. Giddy with excitement we chatted away about all manner of things from usual things like films and music to festivals and holidays. No subject I think was left untouched as we skipped from tale to tale involving everyone from family members and friends to the latest headlines. Before we knew it I felt as though I had known Mr. ToyBoy for years and with my initial concerns that my young date was not what I was looking for in this whole world of dating I soon noticed that I was having more laughs with him than I think I had in a long, long time. He was young and fresh and new and exciting. Something my life had been lacking for a few months now. Parts of my date intrigued me. Like why would he want to go on a date with me first of all? Although I may party like I was born in 1994 sometimes I am still a respectable twenty-something with a fast approaching birthday which will then leave myself and my date exactly three years, eleven months and several days difference in age. The fact that in conversation Mr. ToyBoy explained that I was only a few months younger than one of his sisters made me question why I had even said yes. But then I realised that there was a massive grin splitting my face in two and I was having the time of my life. Ahh yes, that's why!
As the Date continued I thought that it might be a good idea to take a walk along the river and since Mr. ToyBoy had not really been to Bedford before I thought I would highlight the good bits of the City. Walking along the edge of the river bank we stopped at the foot of a familiar bridge. Pushing aside memoirs of Mr. Cheese and butterflies I was ushered to take the first steps onto it. Almost as a right of passage I did so knowing that barely twelve months ago I was doing the same thing with a different face. Upon reaching the other side we continued our conversations, well, that was until we saw the cutest little ball of fur bundling along the gravel path winding round the river. Simultaneously we whispered about how sweet it looked and our fury at not having a puppy like that. I turned and looked at my date as he did to me. A mutual love for dogs! Bliss. As we unintentionally followed the canine and its owners we kept brushing hands. As wonderful as it was I wondered about when the first move would be made if ever. Just then as we overtook the fluff-pup and after giving it a little pat on its soft head, Mr. ToyBoy gently and sweetly took ahold of my hand. Heart skipping slightly I felt my face crack once more. Trying to hide my excitement, head-thoughts turned to Mr. Cheese and how much effort and courage it took for me to build up and ask him to hold my had as we waltzed the hot streets of Kensington and Chelsea back in the summer of last year.
Settling down on a bench I could tell what was coming next. Nervousness racked his Rugby-playing body as he obviously pondered on how to approach my lips. Secretly knowing what my Date was planning I pouted and made my face look as cute as I could. More chatter took over though and before long we were deep in conversation about my inability as a graduated Media Studies student to have gone through my course not watching classics like Lord of The Rings and Disney's Frozen. I think I may have even had a solo performance of Let It Go?! Laughing along he asked if I was cold. I said yes. Without another word I was forced into a cuddle. Snuggling into his chest I mentioned about my furnace-like heat that I seemed to give off. Mr. ToyBoy agreed and followed up with a comment that made me think that maybe age didn't matter so much.
"I wish I had met you sooner Abbey. You make me feel really at ease and have made getting better easier." (He was poorly with a case of probable man-flu earlier in the week) Mr. ToyBoy said in a deep whisper. Turning my head up to face him I saw his brown eyes gaze into mine. As the curtains fell over our peepers and our heads turned I knew it wouldn't be long before I got to know just how mature he was. Locking lips I could feel the delightfully light but intense pressure on the nape of my neck as we kissed passionately in the increasingly chillier weather. Gently teasing each other we got into a rhythm and continued for what was only mere seconds but in which I wished could never end. Breaking from the lustful make-out sesh I returned my head to Mr. ToyBoy's shoulder and looked out to the still water of the river. I smiled at the tactical positioning of where we had chose to indulge in our first kiss. On the left was the wrong bridge. On the right was the right bridge. Somehow I felt at ease with my decision to move on from Monsieur Cheese. I was happy and smiling and potentially had someone here with me holding me in his arms that wanted me. Just as I took reflection on how at ease I was and to the last person I shared with part of the world with I felt a little peck on my hairline. Sweet as it was I think I knew then that I really liked my Date.
After getting caught in a rain storm and nearly catching Hypothermia we called it a day and headed back to town so we could make our own ways home. Unfortunately due to the rain (and not the fact that we were stopping every few steps to have a cheeky kiss in said rain) Mr. ToyBoy had missed his connection home. So before calling a cab we headed into a Caffe to get warm and dry as well as indulge in a little sweetness in the form of two more hot chocolates and a white-chocolate Blondie to share. "He can share this Blondie any day!" I pondered arrogantly to myself as I took a lady-like gulp from my creamy concoction. Sharing out the treats of yet more marshmallows, crumbly chocolate and nutty brownies conversation ebbed. I didn't really know what to say, although I knew the Date itself would have to end at some point. Rising from the table we stepped into the fresh outside and dialled for a driver. As we said our goodbyes we both agreed on having a wonderful afternoon in each other's company. Another smooch before I dragged myself away, struggling not to skip all the way home.
Mr. ToyBoy. The one to bring about the question of age-difference. The one who makes me feel like I am fifteen again. The one who makes me quander what I am really looking for in 2014. In all honesty I don't know. But I know one thing for certain and that is that if the first Date is anything to go by, the second Date will be just as electric. Date number two - Bring it on Mr. ToyBoy!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 14 July 2014
Let The Dating Game Commence!
Evening everyone,
Slowly drifting I peeked through my eyelashes into the bright sunshine. Mmm, the heat was wonderful and I had forgotten how I had missed snuggling up after a long, tiring day at work. With a low hum in the background I closed my eyes again as we swayed together, the heat between us making me evermore happier. And whilst it was a comforting bus journey home this evening, cuddled up at the back of the bus, being driven home by the warmth of the engine and hugging onto the inner wheel arches, it was another thing I had tried in order to replace a man in my life. Note to self: Buses whilst are able to get me to work and back are unreliable, unappreciative and most of all I can't hug them without looking like a lunatic. Nevertheless this week has been a success after the feminist movement of last week the 'Vagina Crusade' is still on and the hunt for a mate continues.
After talking with several gentlemen on a little known dating application called Tinder I was asked out on a date. After speaking for a few days and swapping all social media platforms we agreed to meet for a drink in a local bar. Something casual with not much behind it will be perfect for a first date, nothing to hard or effort educing. A few days later I was on my journey home from work and messaged him about meeting. Cancelled! Apparently work had called him in to do a shift early the next day somewhere in Hertfordshire and so date night was postponed until the following evening. Friday rolled around and not making much effort with the outfit to work I had a funny feeling something would go Pete Tong tonight too. And what an intuition I have. After trying to message my potential date all evening he replied with the lame excuse that his friend had been moved to Singlesville too and needed cheering up. Suggesting a later time to meet was met with no response at all and with twenty minutes to go until we were due to meet I called it off assuming that nothing was going to come to fruition. As it turns out I got blow off for a lads night in drinking and popping moves like they think they're Jason Derulo. Sorry boys but your not. Your just not!
Feeling deflated after being stood-up I needed some comfort and a confidence boost. Since there was no chocolate to be had in my flat other than on a digestive I decided to look elsewhere. Knowing in my heart I shouldn't seek comfort in the shallowness of swiping left or right I ignored all that and did it anyway, continuing to Tinder for the rest of the night, humming and harrahing as to whether or not a first date round a guys 'free house' is such a good idea. I have always said to myself that I will never venture into dangerous waters such as that until at least the third or fourth date. Some of the lads I have spoken to have been dicks and some have seemed quite genuine. I just hope that maybe I can get my head around not looking at everyone of them in comparison to Mr. Cheese. On which note, I had a message from him the other day. Quite unexpected.
After hearing the sad news on Thursday that an elderly family friend whom I haven't seen in year had passed away I was shocked. Stunned into my office chair. At first I got ready to breath a sigh of relief thinking it was something much less morbid in nature, but as it turned out I was really affected. I had to steal a moment to myself in the kitchen under the pretence of making tea just to let my brain process the fact that not only had someone close to me passed away, but that within the next fortnight perhaps I shall be forced to share the same personal space as the very women I despise - My Mother. Sounds awful but I honestly don't know which one is worse. The family friend was what I referred to as an Auntie in my younger years and whilst part of the family she was a strong women whom held her ground and stood up and by what she believed in, including me. I was only seventeen but she knew that I was telling her the truth when I told her the tale of being thrown out by my mother. Shocked and appalled like most she offered me sympathy and a ear when I needed it most and for that I am grateful. A few days later I received a personal message from Mr. Cheese offering support and a shoulder to cry on. It was sweet what he had said and nice to know that he was thinking about me, but all I really wanted wasn't just a shoulder to cry on.
I wasn't to be sad for too long as midday on Saturday soon arrived and as the warm summer called my Nan and I outside we sat in a quaint little cafe sipping on tea and coffee chatting about all life's problems although mainly boys and how I should deal with life now as a bachelorette. Much advice was given and it was needed for I had already lined myself up another date with a new man for Sunday afternoon. But before all of that could happen I had an even more important date to keep to. Reading Festival Run-Thru - Mark Two!
Discussions took place between myself and the Tweedles via email about the pro's and con's of having a camp out in Miss Tweedle-Dumb's garden when there was due to be a torrential down pour that evening. My case was a valid one and that no matter what the weather come the Bank Holiday Weekend at the end of August we would have to put up and sleep in a tent for several nights. I feel that whilst my friends would much rather snuggle with the dogs on the sofa, they couldn't deny that as normal, I was right! And setting up this time was not nearly half as bad or strenuous as first thought. The tent was up within half hour and by the time we had pumped up our air-beds and secured the guide-ropes Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were being egged on by a mischievous Miss Tweedle-Dee to have a dance off on the patio. Suffice to say that after several cocktails and a cider I was very much a drunken mess. Attempts to play swing-ball was next on our list of fun things to do whilst drunk. Between pants and gasps I felt as if I was either in the finals of Wimbledon or doing the voice over for a OTT porno, although by that point in the evening it was most likely to be the latter one. And so the night was rounded off once and for all with being chased by imaginary scary noises whilst trying to Alfresco Pee and having potatoes thrown at our tent by Miss Tweedle-Dumb's sister.
Bleary eyed we awoke the next morning, my tent pals had slept better than I had but only for fear of being rained on. Nevertheless a morning brew and ashtray were brought to our makeshift bedsides by an attentive Miss Tweedle-Dumb and thus commenced our Sunday. Packing the tent away was not hard either, and within the space of fifteen minutes out pop-up home had been wiped down from the rain drops and packaged away inside its little bag until the next time we need him. Changing and having a quick wash we all headed back to our own homes, but for me it was home to prepare for my first date of the year. And so, strolling down the street I definitely had my swag on. I felt amazing and with my new found favourite band (5SOS) playing in my ears I knew I was shit hot. Or at least I would have liked to think so anyway. As I turned into the street and saw the signed swinging in the cool afternoon air I told myself that I could still turn around and go home if I didn't want too. Grappling with nerves I approached the coffee house. I knew it well. It was the last stop on mine and Mr. Cheese's journey before heading to Darlington over Christmas and more recently the place I had purchased ground coffee for Pappa Cheese's birthday present, much to his delight. Indeed this little coffee shop on the High Street held very fond but bitter memories for me. I wished they could be different but they are not, and that is why I am here. Walking into Caffe Crema to meet a man I barely know. Strutting to the back of the establishment in no less than a pair of heels, pleated PVC skirt and sweatshirt I felt the nerves subside as I greeted my date; The ironically named - Mr. Moustache.
Mr. Moustache was a tall and stocky blonde with blue eyes, not quite what I expected but then can you ever trust Internet dating? As soon as I walked in I stole his attention from his phone, a luxury Mr. Cheese rarely paid me. As I approached the little table I glanced to where ghosts of days gone by had excitedly chattered amongst wrapped up presents and about the coming days of yule-tide festivities that were to come. Shaking them off I was greeted and then seated. Parched I offered to buy Mr. Moustache another drink, despite seeing that he had only just arrived himself. Declining, I went to the counter to order a coffee frappachino. Starbucks it was not but better than something hot. Seating myself once more, Mr. Moustache commented on how surreal it all was. Was I that fabulous? Is it now an honour to be in my company? Apparently so! Quick someone call the Queen I need to be knighted!
Conversation flowing we questioned each others lives and hobbies. I found out that he works in health care and lives alone too which was a relief as you tend to go a bit nuts when you live alone as a Singleton! We posed questions about our favourite biscuits and what we like to watch on TV. He seemed to be on same shelf as me but I'm not so sure about the same book or page however. Desperately trying not to judge or compare, Mr. Moustache had the long run-your-fingers-through hair I always want. Teeth were fairly good too and his eyes were wide and full of wonder at our conversions. Noticing the sandals I was immediately turned off anything romantic, although oddly in a way the slogan Tee and bright Hawaiian shirt may have made up in part for one of the Big Four being let down. Mr. Moustache was funny and made me laugh with hilarious stories from his travels around the world. He had ventured to Asia on a gap year from life and whilst there had experienced nude bathing with friends and lots of Chinese Mafia, being asked to have his photo taken just because he was a tall white male from the West and even accidentally marrying a Japanese prostitute. And to think that I would never meet my match in terms of being a raconteur! I too pulled out all my best stories - That time Miss Tweedle-Dumb made a Aloe Vera butter angel on the floor of our holiday apartment whilst very drunk from an evening at a Scottish bar in Fuerteventura, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her blister bags as a result of getting badly sun burnt, also in Fuerteventura; And who can forget that ever-lasting tale of Mr. Workaholic and his 'bearded' experience.
As the afternoon turned into early evening I decided to call it a day and head home - Alone! The exit was odd as we ended up walking the same way and when we did come to the departure I felt an uneasy as Mr. Moustache leaned in for a hug goodbye and maybe something more. Unfortunately it was a first date and I didn't really fancy him that much. I mean he was attractive don't get me wrong, but I was still airing on the side of caution. I wasn't sure about this one yet and didn't want to jump before I knew what into. Mr. Moustache was lovely though and despite us not talking since I feel that as far as first dates go, it went well. With a few more lined up for the coming weeks I am sure we I will have plenty more tales to tell you all, I just need to be sure that I don't fall as hard as I did last time ...
'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
Slowly drifting I peeked through my eyelashes into the bright sunshine. Mmm, the heat was wonderful and I had forgotten how I had missed snuggling up after a long, tiring day at work. With a low hum in the background I closed my eyes again as we swayed together, the heat between us making me evermore happier. And whilst it was a comforting bus journey home this evening, cuddled up at the back of the bus, being driven home by the warmth of the engine and hugging onto the inner wheel arches, it was another thing I had tried in order to replace a man in my life. Note to self: Buses whilst are able to get me to work and back are unreliable, unappreciative and most of all I can't hug them without looking like a lunatic. Nevertheless this week has been a success after the feminist movement of last week the 'Vagina Crusade' is still on and the hunt for a mate continues.
After talking with several gentlemen on a little known dating application called Tinder I was asked out on a date. After speaking for a few days and swapping all social media platforms we agreed to meet for a drink in a local bar. Something casual with not much behind it will be perfect for a first date, nothing to hard or effort educing. A few days later I was on my journey home from work and messaged him about meeting. Cancelled! Apparently work had called him in to do a shift early the next day somewhere in Hertfordshire and so date night was postponed until the following evening. Friday rolled around and not making much effort with the outfit to work I had a funny feeling something would go Pete Tong tonight too. And what an intuition I have. After trying to message my potential date all evening he replied with the lame excuse that his friend had been moved to Singlesville too and needed cheering up. Suggesting a later time to meet was met with no response at all and with twenty minutes to go until we were due to meet I called it off assuming that nothing was going to come to fruition. As it turns out I got blow off for a lads night in drinking and popping moves like they think they're Jason Derulo. Sorry boys but your not. Your just not!
Feeling deflated after being stood-up I needed some comfort and a confidence boost. Since there was no chocolate to be had in my flat other than on a digestive I decided to look elsewhere. Knowing in my heart I shouldn't seek comfort in the shallowness of swiping left or right I ignored all that and did it anyway, continuing to Tinder for the rest of the night, humming and harrahing as to whether or not a first date round a guys 'free house' is such a good idea. I have always said to myself that I will never venture into dangerous waters such as that until at least the third or fourth date. Some of the lads I have spoken to have been dicks and some have seemed quite genuine. I just hope that maybe I can get my head around not looking at everyone of them in comparison to Mr. Cheese. On which note, I had a message from him the other day. Quite unexpected.
After hearing the sad news on Thursday that an elderly family friend whom I haven't seen in year had passed away I was shocked. Stunned into my office chair. At first I got ready to breath a sigh of relief thinking it was something much less morbid in nature, but as it turned out I was really affected. I had to steal a moment to myself in the kitchen under the pretence of making tea just to let my brain process the fact that not only had someone close to me passed away, but that within the next fortnight perhaps I shall be forced to share the same personal space as the very women I despise - My Mother. Sounds awful but I honestly don't know which one is worse. The family friend was what I referred to as an Auntie in my younger years and whilst part of the family she was a strong women whom held her ground and stood up and by what she believed in, including me. I was only seventeen but she knew that I was telling her the truth when I told her the tale of being thrown out by my mother. Shocked and appalled like most she offered me sympathy and a ear when I needed it most and for that I am grateful. A few days later I received a personal message from Mr. Cheese offering support and a shoulder to cry on. It was sweet what he had said and nice to know that he was thinking about me, but all I really wanted wasn't just a shoulder to cry on.
I wasn't to be sad for too long as midday on Saturday soon arrived and as the warm summer called my Nan and I outside we sat in a quaint little cafe sipping on tea and coffee chatting about all life's problems although mainly boys and how I should deal with life now as a bachelorette. Much advice was given and it was needed for I had already lined myself up another date with a new man for Sunday afternoon. But before all of that could happen I had an even more important date to keep to. Reading Festival Run-Thru - Mark Two!
Discussions took place between myself and the Tweedles via email about the pro's and con's of having a camp out in Miss Tweedle-Dumb's garden when there was due to be a torrential down pour that evening. My case was a valid one and that no matter what the weather come the Bank Holiday Weekend at the end of August we would have to put up and sleep in a tent for several nights. I feel that whilst my friends would much rather snuggle with the dogs on the sofa, they couldn't deny that as normal, I was right! And setting up this time was not nearly half as bad or strenuous as first thought. The tent was up within half hour and by the time we had pumped up our air-beds and secured the guide-ropes Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were being egged on by a mischievous Miss Tweedle-Dee to have a dance off on the patio. Suffice to say that after several cocktails and a cider I was very much a drunken mess. Attempts to play swing-ball was next on our list of fun things to do whilst drunk. Between pants and gasps I felt as if I was either in the finals of Wimbledon or doing the voice over for a OTT porno, although by that point in the evening it was most likely to be the latter one. And so the night was rounded off once and for all with being chased by imaginary scary noises whilst trying to Alfresco Pee and having potatoes thrown at our tent by Miss Tweedle-Dumb's sister.
Bleary eyed we awoke the next morning, my tent pals had slept better than I had but only for fear of being rained on. Nevertheless a morning brew and ashtray were brought to our makeshift bedsides by an attentive Miss Tweedle-Dumb and thus commenced our Sunday. Packing the tent away was not hard either, and within the space of fifteen minutes out pop-up home had been wiped down from the rain drops and packaged away inside its little bag until the next time we need him. Changing and having a quick wash we all headed back to our own homes, but for me it was home to prepare for my first date of the year. And so, strolling down the street I definitely had my swag on. I felt amazing and with my new found favourite band (5SOS) playing in my ears I knew I was shit hot. Or at least I would have liked to think so anyway. As I turned into the street and saw the signed swinging in the cool afternoon air I told myself that I could still turn around and go home if I didn't want too. Grappling with nerves I approached the coffee house. I knew it well. It was the last stop on mine and Mr. Cheese's journey before heading to Darlington over Christmas and more recently the place I had purchased ground coffee for Pappa Cheese's birthday present, much to his delight. Indeed this little coffee shop on the High Street held very fond but bitter memories for me. I wished they could be different but they are not, and that is why I am here. Walking into Caffe Crema to meet a man I barely know. Strutting to the back of the establishment in no less than a pair of heels, pleated PVC skirt and sweatshirt I felt the nerves subside as I greeted my date; The ironically named - Mr. Moustache.
Mr. Moustache was a tall and stocky blonde with blue eyes, not quite what I expected but then can you ever trust Internet dating? As soon as I walked in I stole his attention from his phone, a luxury Mr. Cheese rarely paid me. As I approached the little table I glanced to where ghosts of days gone by had excitedly chattered amongst wrapped up presents and about the coming days of yule-tide festivities that were to come. Shaking them off I was greeted and then seated. Parched I offered to buy Mr. Moustache another drink, despite seeing that he had only just arrived himself. Declining, I went to the counter to order a coffee frappachino. Starbucks it was not but better than something hot. Seating myself once more, Mr. Moustache commented on how surreal it all was. Was I that fabulous? Is it now an honour to be in my company? Apparently so! Quick someone call the Queen I need to be knighted!
Conversation flowing we questioned each others lives and hobbies. I found out that he works in health care and lives alone too which was a relief as you tend to go a bit nuts when you live alone as a Singleton! We posed questions about our favourite biscuits and what we like to watch on TV. He seemed to be on same shelf as me but I'm not so sure about the same book or page however. Desperately trying not to judge or compare, Mr. Moustache had the long run-your-fingers-through hair I always want. Teeth were fairly good too and his eyes were wide and full of wonder at our conversions. Noticing the sandals I was immediately turned off anything romantic, although oddly in a way the slogan Tee and bright Hawaiian shirt may have made up in part for one of the Big Four being let down. Mr. Moustache was funny and made me laugh with hilarious stories from his travels around the world. He had ventured to Asia on a gap year from life and whilst there had experienced nude bathing with friends and lots of Chinese Mafia, being asked to have his photo taken just because he was a tall white male from the West and even accidentally marrying a Japanese prostitute. And to think that I would never meet my match in terms of being a raconteur! I too pulled out all my best stories - That time Miss Tweedle-Dumb made a Aloe Vera butter angel on the floor of our holiday apartment whilst very drunk from an evening at a Scottish bar in Fuerteventura, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her blister bags as a result of getting badly sun burnt, also in Fuerteventura; And who can forget that ever-lasting tale of Mr. Workaholic and his 'bearded' experience.
As the afternoon turned into early evening I decided to call it a day and head home - Alone! The exit was odd as we ended up walking the same way and when we did come to the departure I felt an uneasy as Mr. Moustache leaned in for a hug goodbye and maybe something more. Unfortunately it was a first date and I didn't really fancy him that much. I mean he was attractive don't get me wrong, but I was still airing on the side of caution. I wasn't sure about this one yet and didn't want to jump before I knew what into. Mr. Moustache was lovely though and despite us not talking since I feel that as far as first dates go, it went well. With a few more lined up for the coming weeks I am sure we I will have plenty more tales to tell you all, I just need to be sure that I don't fall as hard as I did last time ...
'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 30 June 2014
The Rediscovery Of A Broken Fairytale ...
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. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx
Evening to you,
Throughout this journey I lost myself but in the space of a few days since last week and with a few tiny changes I am beginning to find myself again. Happy and content. Young and free. After downloading a few apps and being invited out on a work's night out I felt a little piece of me return every morning I opened my eyes. I anticipated that the work's 'do' would just be some quiet drinks down a local bar in the Town Centre, little did I know how much of an impact I could have. Even as I walked into the office this morning I was inundated with questions about who I left the bar with and what happened when I got home in the early hours of Saturday morning. Yes, everyone in the office seems to have me on their lips! But nothing happened as I was not in search of a lay that night, but simply the knowledge that I am not wholly repugnant and distasteful to all of the male population! I think I succeeded.
Deciding that that my confidence needed boosting after recent events I donned a floaty skirt and heels to join my office bod's for a night on the tiles. And boy was it! Not having been out since Halloween last year (dressed as a Little Dead Riding Hood no less) I figured that I would go easy. That was until I joined those pesky lads from the warehouse downstairs from my office! Cute but not quite my type we began the evenings debauchery by knocking back an old favourite of mine - Sambuca shots! After perching myself on a bar stool, skirt billowing over my smooth legs, the conversation progressed fast and soon the boys and I were discussing sexual habits like how to go down on a girl, porn, bedroom activities and chat-up lines. The cheesiest of lines were put upon me Friday night and in all honesty I was outwardly and outrageously flirting, but with all this male attention and after recent events of the male variety, who could blame me ...
Stairs. Something about them isn't there that is slightly foreboding. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always foreboding. And so as I stood at the bottom of a narrow, brown stairwell in the centre of The Big Smoke I wondered how I would feel coming down them in a few hours time. The anticipation was killing me. I wanted to step onto them but I just couldn't. All around me I must have looked like an idiot just stood there having a face-off with some simple steps. Part of me wanted to climb - Climb up there to a better life in the clouds from one down here. But the reality in my heart told me that what I could face could be down yet another very dark and lonely staircase. Breaking through the barrier of my bodies unwillingness to make the first steps, and pulling my thoughts together I finally made my ascend. Stomach flipping and body beginning to shake I told myself to stay calm and collected. Reaching the last step my shoe slipped off. Like a child I saw it as an omen from a fairytale, but alas there was to be no Prince Charming to make me Happily Ever After. I knew how this story ends, I had read it before. I had to be the knight in shining armour and save myself from tragedy yet again.
After speaking to the waiter I was being escorted to my table where my dinner date was already seated. Winding through tables and past massive gaping windows looking out to the city beneath me I knew in my heart that this was it. Once seated and reintroduced to my company for the evening I took charge immediately of the situation in hand for failure of being made a fool which was at this point inevitable. Not saying a word to my date and disregarding everything I ordered a bottle of the rose. A scene played out in my head that at some point this evening I would rise from the table and scream "Champagne! Champagne for everyone" and the whole restaurant would too join me in a celebration. This was to stay as a fantasy for this evening was one of a melancholy mood. Ordering from a menu I had been scanning all week not knowing if I would even attend this event I made a choice and stuck by it, something that is rare in my world. Making idle small talk we danced around the real reasons we were both in the beautiful surroundings of Covent Garden. Staring into my dates eyes, bright and shiny as they had ever been I wondered which one of us would bring up the question. It had taken a while to get that moment but soon enough it was upon us. With the staff being overtly attentive and the beating evening sun glaring down on us as glanced at our surroundings on the terraced restaurant in the West End of London, I knew it would be me to break the ice once more. Becoming agitated by the lack of urgency in the debate I started. Mr. Cheese in the dock first please!
"So ... As beautiful as a surrounding this all is and as wonderful as to the views; Why are we here?" I beckoned. Heart breaking, I knew the answer before I had even asked the question. A solemn look had replaced an otherwise forced smile and so the evening commenced. Conversation spilling we yet again trudged the same old muddy ground covered like so many times before and one that I refused to put myself through any more. I had enough of going round in circles. It wasn't fun any more. But then again was it ever fun in comparison to the happiness experienced? The lack of passion and fight and energy all lost to somewhere I could not find any more. I was with a man who had no want to carry on trying. Mr. Cheese had lied to me, promising that everything would get better and that he too like me wanted to make it work. Yet again the promise along with a piece of my heart was shattered. I couldn't believe that given the opportunity to make things better and faced with loosing me all together that my boyfriend failed to take such simple steps to make it better. Affection. That's all I wanted. Not just an increase in sex drive on his part but more of the little things. Flowers, presents, cuddles, kisses and anything lovely. I want to be kissed in the pouring rain and surprised at work with a visitor. I want to be swept off my feet and feel butterflies in my belly. I want to have a smile on my face seeing his caller ID and to know that I am the only one my boyfriend needs; Maybe not forever but just to live and feel right in the moment with him. I don't think it is something that I should have to even think about asking from someone that says they love you. But even that I am failing to believe any more.
During this past year, as most of you know, I have experienced everything a human being could ever experience. From the highest highs to the lowest lows. I was tired and exhausted. Unloved and unappreciated. I wanted to get off this ride now. I wanted to go home. As sad as it was I knew that this was the best thing for us. Things were so easy in the beginning. And then I fell. I fell before him and didn't stop until I hit the ground. Hard. I hated how I fell in love with him. His smile. His eyes. His kooky little ways. I hate how I fell for him and despite everything, he never truly fell for me. I wanted to believe anything other than what Mr. Cheese was telling me over that dinner table in London on Wednesday. Anything. I thought up scenario's of him not being happy and wanting to call Ghana off just to make things better between us. Of being gay - which wouldn't have been the first time something has happened like that. Or worst, cheating on me with someone who is much prettier and slimmer and hotter than me, which in all honesty with the way I had felt of late, would not be entirely untrue. But no, none of those things happened. It was simply the end.
And so this concludes the chapter. A tale of wrong bridges and of falling in love. A story I hoped might never end no matter how much I told myself it would. Maybe somewhere beyond Ghana we can rekindle our infatuation with each other, making sure that we spend the time to nurture what we have together. After all, we did have a love story to rival Disney. But alas, the story of Cheese and I must come to an end, at least for now ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Evening to you,
Throughout this journey I lost myself but in the space of a few days since last week and with a few tiny changes I am beginning to find myself again. Happy and content. Young and free. After downloading a few apps and being invited out on a work's night out I felt a little piece of me return every morning I opened my eyes. I anticipated that the work's 'do' would just be some quiet drinks down a local bar in the Town Centre, little did I know how much of an impact I could have. Even as I walked into the office this morning I was inundated with questions about who I left the bar with and what happened when I got home in the early hours of Saturday morning. Yes, everyone in the office seems to have me on their lips! But nothing happened as I was not in search of a lay that night, but simply the knowledge that I am not wholly repugnant and distasteful to all of the male population! I think I succeeded.
Deciding that that my confidence needed boosting after recent events I donned a floaty skirt and heels to join my office bod's for a night on the tiles. And boy was it! Not having been out since Halloween last year (dressed as a Little Dead Riding Hood no less) I figured that I would go easy. That was until I joined those pesky lads from the warehouse downstairs from my office! Cute but not quite my type we began the evenings debauchery by knocking back an old favourite of mine - Sambuca shots! After perching myself on a bar stool, skirt billowing over my smooth legs, the conversation progressed fast and soon the boys and I were discussing sexual habits like how to go down on a girl, porn, bedroom activities and chat-up lines. The cheesiest of lines were put upon me Friday night and in all honesty I was outwardly and outrageously flirting, but with all this male attention and after recent events of the male variety, who could blame me ...
---
Stairs. Something about them isn't there that is slightly foreboding. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always foreboding. And so as I stood at the bottom of a narrow, brown stairwell in the centre of The Big Smoke I wondered how I would feel coming down them in a few hours time. The anticipation was killing me. I wanted to step onto them but I just couldn't. All around me I must have looked like an idiot just stood there having a face-off with some simple steps. Part of me wanted to climb - Climb up there to a better life in the clouds from one down here. But the reality in my heart told me that what I could face could be down yet another very dark and lonely staircase. Breaking through the barrier of my bodies unwillingness to make the first steps, and pulling my thoughts together I finally made my ascend. Stomach flipping and body beginning to shake I told myself to stay calm and collected. Reaching the last step my shoe slipped off. Like a child I saw it as an omen from a fairytale, but alas there was to be no Prince Charming to make me Happily Ever After. I knew how this story ends, I had read it before. I had to be the knight in shining armour and save myself from tragedy yet again.
After speaking to the waiter I was being escorted to my table where my dinner date was already seated. Winding through tables and past massive gaping windows looking out to the city beneath me I knew in my heart that this was it. Once seated and reintroduced to my company for the evening I took charge immediately of the situation in hand for failure of being made a fool which was at this point inevitable. Not saying a word to my date and disregarding everything I ordered a bottle of the rose. A scene played out in my head that at some point this evening I would rise from the table and scream "Champagne! Champagne for everyone" and the whole restaurant would too join me in a celebration. This was to stay as a fantasy for this evening was one of a melancholy mood. Ordering from a menu I had been scanning all week not knowing if I would even attend this event I made a choice and stuck by it, something that is rare in my world. Making idle small talk we danced around the real reasons we were both in the beautiful surroundings of Covent Garden. Staring into my dates eyes, bright and shiny as they had ever been I wondered which one of us would bring up the question. It had taken a while to get that moment but soon enough it was upon us. With the staff being overtly attentive and the beating evening sun glaring down on us as glanced at our surroundings on the terraced restaurant in the West End of London, I knew it would be me to break the ice once more. Becoming agitated by the lack of urgency in the debate I started. Mr. Cheese in the dock first please!
"So ... As beautiful as a surrounding this all is and as wonderful as to the views; Why are we here?" I beckoned. Heart breaking, I knew the answer before I had even asked the question. A solemn look had replaced an otherwise forced smile and so the evening commenced. Conversation spilling we yet again trudged the same old muddy ground covered like so many times before and one that I refused to put myself through any more. I had enough of going round in circles. It wasn't fun any more. But then again was it ever fun in comparison to the happiness experienced? The lack of passion and fight and energy all lost to somewhere I could not find any more. I was with a man who had no want to carry on trying. Mr. Cheese had lied to me, promising that everything would get better and that he too like me wanted to make it work. Yet again the promise along with a piece of my heart was shattered. I couldn't believe that given the opportunity to make things better and faced with loosing me all together that my boyfriend failed to take such simple steps to make it better. Affection. That's all I wanted. Not just an increase in sex drive on his part but more of the little things. Flowers, presents, cuddles, kisses and anything lovely. I want to be kissed in the pouring rain and surprised at work with a visitor. I want to be swept off my feet and feel butterflies in my belly. I want to have a smile on my face seeing his caller ID and to know that I am the only one my boyfriend needs; Maybe not forever but just to live and feel right in the moment with him. I don't think it is something that I should have to even think about asking from someone that says they love you. But even that I am failing to believe any more.
During this past year, as most of you know, I have experienced everything a human being could ever experience. From the highest highs to the lowest lows. I was tired and exhausted. Unloved and unappreciated. I wanted to get off this ride now. I wanted to go home. As sad as it was I knew that this was the best thing for us. Things were so easy in the beginning. And then I fell. I fell before him and didn't stop until I hit the ground. Hard. I hated how I fell in love with him. His smile. His eyes. His kooky little ways. I hate how I fell for him and despite everything, he never truly fell for me. I wanted to believe anything other than what Mr. Cheese was telling me over that dinner table in London on Wednesday. Anything. I thought up scenario's of him not being happy and wanting to call Ghana off just to make things better between us. Of being gay - which wouldn't have been the first time something has happened like that. Or worst, cheating on me with someone who is much prettier and slimmer and hotter than me, which in all honesty with the way I had felt of late, would not be entirely untrue. But no, none of those things happened. It was simply the end.
And so this concludes the chapter. A tale of wrong bridges and of falling in love. A story I hoped might never end no matter how much I told myself it would. Maybe somewhere beyond Ghana we can rekindle our infatuation with each other, making sure that we spend the time to nurture what we have together. After all, we did have a love story to rival Disney. But alas, the story of Cheese and I must come to an end, at least for now ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 2 June 2014
Flirting With Feminism ...
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. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx
Hello Again,
Bidding my grandmother a farewell as she drove off I chuckled to myself about her lasting phrase. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do" She would always tell me and as principal I had always taken it as a mantra. You see my Grandma was somewhat a modern lady in herself, fully comfortable discussing programmes on telly we had both watched about prostitution and escorting, the occasional swear word and even the odd frolic on a bouncy castle. Yes, my grandma was a character. Shuffling around in my bag for my purse I walked into the train station and bought my normal ticket to London. I was off to see Mr. Cheese and after retelling the story of our first date (And So The Battle Commences ...) and visiting the same place where we first ignited a fondness I was more than keen to see him.
However it seems that it was not only Mr. Cheese's attention I was grabbing as dusk fell on the Big Smoke. Boarding the underground my music paused. Although peeved at first it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Waltzing onto the Tube, my long legs were out in full force only topped off by my new, high-heeled buckle ankle boots teamed with a short pleated metallic skirt and cute jumper, I took note of a male audience. The four rowdy twenty-somethings were clamouring for my attention as I sat opposite them in the carriage, however I was unaware at this point frustrated that Avicii was no longer blessing my ears. Sunglasses shading my eyes from gaze, the men clearly had noticed my arrival and commenced with the standard comments you would expect from such creatures. Comments included smashing several of my doors in and also some choice phrases about, I quote; "What a nice bit of fluff" I have on me. I hoped they were talking about the flaming orange hair I have been sporting since before Christmas but I know that they meant a differing kind of fluff! I wasn't shamed by it though and took pleasure in their comments and boyish jokes, even smiling at several of them. As I unknowingly scooped my hair off my made up face whilst trying to shoo away a cheekily smug grin one of the lads had made some banter about how "She definitely wants it if she's playing with her hair". I couldn't hold out any longer and the smile broke into my rosy cheeks. Noticing they upped the ante with remarks on my weekend bag being full of filthy toys and sexual instruments. In actual fact my day-old ham and mustard sandwich, book on a psychopath and Monday morning work-wear couldn't have been further from the truth, but I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to spoil their memoir of moi. As they left the train the other passengers let go a sigh of relief, however I was almost saddened at their final departure as now I should have to continue my journey with no flirty gestures from naughty boys.
Now I must stress that whilst that may all sound vulgar and hideous that a women in the 21st century cannot board the underground without being harassed by men that fully sympathise that sometimes it goes too far and that yes there is a line where enough is enough and should be stopped. But I am about as far away from a feminist as can possibly be. I like the idea that whilst I have a loving boyfriend waiting for me in a pub beer garden somewhere in West London I still have a sex appeal that can lure men in. I love flirting with people of all ages, shapes and genders. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it. I love it. I take joy in being told I have "nice fluff" and that I am hot. In fact going on my first hen party a few weeks ago taught me exactly how hunter-esk us women can be. We are powerful individuals with an allure that incites men in. I love the charm I possess and at times it can be a great advantage. In the modern world you don't get many compliments and so when a builder with an overhang and a crack as bad as the one he is filling in on the masonry wolf-whistles at me I enjoy it for what it is - A compliment. I see nothing wrong with a bit of playful back-and-fourth between the sexes. It keeps things fun and fresh. If anything I think a small part of me likes the dominating side I have, even though I know when it comes down to it I love being overpowered and overruled by a strong independent male. I have always joked at how I fit more into the nineteen-fifties way of the world, where a women knew her place and stuck to it.
However on the flip-side, I fully respect that I cherish what I do have in the year 2014. Women can vote, have an education and even drive cars now (apparently) all things which fill me with pride and honour. I am glad I am a women now and feel even more empowered knowing I have just as much if not sometimes even more right as a man to do things. Although I feel that as a women we should respect ourselves a little more not to go out dressed as a hooker (unless fancy dress calls for such an occasion) I as a women should be able to go about my daily life without being constantly harassed or shamed for dressing a certain way. And it goes to show that the majority of people feel the same way. Just because a girl or women is wearing a short skirt or revealing top does not mean she is gagging for it, in need of it or indeed deserving of it, with the 'it' being unwanted attention in the form of gropes, grabs or in extreme circumstances rape. A women, or indeed a man, should have the freedom to walk down the street wearing nothing at all without having to worry about being sexually assaulted. I should be free to do as I please without being tormented or bullied into a sexual act. Of course everyone feels pressure from the other sex, both men and women, but I think that is all part of growing up and not only teaching others but to teach yourself where that line is and when to say no, enough is enough.
After my stint on the tube with my London-lovers I tottled out of Goldhawk station with one thing on my mind. Toilet! I desperately needed a wee however was meant to be meeting Mr. Cheese and his fit flatmate in less than a few minutes. I made the decision to pop to the Costa across the street and relieve myself before returning to the spot I left moments earlier. Whilst in the coffee shop thrown room Mr. Cheese had rang me several times. Not wanting him to hear me gush I shut it off. Outside the tube station entrance I scrambled in my bag once more as my mobile buzzed with excited tone as Mr. Cheese tried to call me yet again. Answering this time, I put on a sexy voice only to be playfully yelled at in response. "Get on that bus!" Mr. Cheese threatened and even before I had a chance to answer back the iconic red double-decker pulled up along side me in traffic. Screaming back as I teetled along in my new heels that my boyfriend was making me run for public transport I boarded and joined him and the flatmate upstairs, much to the happiness that I had pleased both of their peepers with my ensemble.
We decided to go for dinner soon after we got back to the flat in West London and settled on a place well-known in the area as the place to get ice-cream. A favourite haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's we had been going there ever since I first graced Chiswick back in late summer last year. Never had we stayed for dinner though as somewhere had always looked more appetising. Following instructions of the boyfriends flatmate we all sat at a table and ordered. I never noticed I was flirting but I suppose in a way I was looking back on it. Not even knowing it, I shared my dinner with the flatmate and even shared a few girlish giggles too. I was charmed by his love of Arctic Monkeys and horror flicks but my being was all of Mr. Cheese's and he knew that. Or did he? As I engaged in conversation with the fit flatmate I noticed someone else getting very tall and broad! Was this jealousy I was seeing? Was my boyfriend, the very man whom invented the phrasing of chest-wig, was he a little bit threatened? I think he was! Taking note of the hand rubbing, arm round my shoulder, constant pecks and kisses, thigh touching and his increasingly puffed-up chest I felt both amorous but also slightly awkward given the situation already. Food arriving we ate and continued in our merriment scoffing and laughing well into the evening.
Arriving back at the flat later on, the T.D.H (Tall, Dark and Handsome) flatmate left me and the Cheese to it and with an almost instant ignition a spark was lit and we were all over each other like a cheap suit. Taking note of our lustiness and being slammed into the corner of the couch I suggested we took it to the bedroom. Laying down on the fresh, comfy sheets I had come to love my mind wondered with thoughts of an exciting and explicit nature. Kisses and touches playful tickles and teases we tried to keep the noise down as we excitedly played with each others bodies. Pausing for a moment amongst all of it I gazed into the blueness of my boyfriend's eyes and wondered where all the passion had come from. I didn't care. The heat and immense passion between us at that point was palpable and something I shall struggle to forget. All I knew was that I loved it and when I climbed on top ready to satisfy us both I was glad to hear that Mr. Cheese said I was hot. I never really see myself as hot. Maybe cute but rarely hot. I took pleasure in that comment as I had done with his hand magic earlier. That night I settled calmly into his chest, knowing that it was the first night of pure intimacy I had felt in a long time. I was in a world of pure bliss. I fought the urge to again, as I always do after sex, to say those three little words. I couldn't help myself. As I whispered "I love You" I thought about what a wonderful situation I am in and that it was silly to think that not that long ago I was contemplating letting it all go.
If this last weekend is anything to go by then I will have a very fruity post next week. Mr. Cheese and I will be Mini-Breaking in Bristol this weekend, a place I have wanted to go to for ages and somewhere held very close to Mr.Cheese's heart for that is where he partied hard whilst studying for his degree in ancient history. What a clever boffin! And so I shall probably be writing to you from somewhere in the South West of England as I hurtle through the Devonshire countryside on a train back to London or maybe even in London itself. Either way I am sure I will be worn out, exhausted and with many a naughty tale to tell ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Hello Again,
Bidding my grandmother a farewell as she drove off I chuckled to myself about her lasting phrase. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do" She would always tell me and as principal I had always taken it as a mantra. You see my Grandma was somewhat a modern lady in herself, fully comfortable discussing programmes on telly we had both watched about prostitution and escorting, the occasional swear word and even the odd frolic on a bouncy castle. Yes, my grandma was a character. Shuffling around in my bag for my purse I walked into the train station and bought my normal ticket to London. I was off to see Mr. Cheese and after retelling the story of our first date (And So The Battle Commences ...) and visiting the same place where we first ignited a fondness I was more than keen to see him.
However it seems that it was not only Mr. Cheese's attention I was grabbing as dusk fell on the Big Smoke. Boarding the underground my music paused. Although peeved at first it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Waltzing onto the Tube, my long legs were out in full force only topped off by my new, high-heeled buckle ankle boots teamed with a short pleated metallic skirt and cute jumper, I took note of a male audience. The four rowdy twenty-somethings were clamouring for my attention as I sat opposite them in the carriage, however I was unaware at this point frustrated that Avicii was no longer blessing my ears. Sunglasses shading my eyes from gaze, the men clearly had noticed my arrival and commenced with the standard comments you would expect from such creatures. Comments included smashing several of my doors in and also some choice phrases about, I quote; "What a nice bit of fluff" I have on me. I hoped they were talking about the flaming orange hair I have been sporting since before Christmas but I know that they meant a differing kind of fluff! I wasn't shamed by it though and took pleasure in their comments and boyish jokes, even smiling at several of them. As I unknowingly scooped my hair off my made up face whilst trying to shoo away a cheekily smug grin one of the lads had made some banter about how "She definitely wants it if she's playing with her hair". I couldn't hold out any longer and the smile broke into my rosy cheeks. Noticing they upped the ante with remarks on my weekend bag being full of filthy toys and sexual instruments. In actual fact my day-old ham and mustard sandwich, book on a psychopath and Monday morning work-wear couldn't have been further from the truth, but I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to spoil their memoir of moi. As they left the train the other passengers let go a sigh of relief, however I was almost saddened at their final departure as now I should have to continue my journey with no flirty gestures from naughty boys.
Now I must stress that whilst that may all sound vulgar and hideous that a women in the 21st century cannot board the underground without being harassed by men that fully sympathise that sometimes it goes too far and that yes there is a line where enough is enough and should be stopped. But I am about as far away from a feminist as can possibly be. I like the idea that whilst I have a loving boyfriend waiting for me in a pub beer garden somewhere in West London I still have a sex appeal that can lure men in. I love flirting with people of all ages, shapes and genders. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it. I love it. I take joy in being told I have "nice fluff" and that I am hot. In fact going on my first hen party a few weeks ago taught me exactly how hunter-esk us women can be. We are powerful individuals with an allure that incites men in. I love the charm I possess and at times it can be a great advantage. In the modern world you don't get many compliments and so when a builder with an overhang and a crack as bad as the one he is filling in on the masonry wolf-whistles at me I enjoy it for what it is - A compliment. I see nothing wrong with a bit of playful back-and-fourth between the sexes. It keeps things fun and fresh. If anything I think a small part of me likes the dominating side I have, even though I know when it comes down to it I love being overpowered and overruled by a strong independent male. I have always joked at how I fit more into the nineteen-fifties way of the world, where a women knew her place and stuck to it.
However on the flip-side, I fully respect that I cherish what I do have in the year 2014. Women can vote, have an education and even drive cars now (apparently) all things which fill me with pride and honour. I am glad I am a women now and feel even more empowered knowing I have just as much if not sometimes even more right as a man to do things. Although I feel that as a women we should respect ourselves a little more not to go out dressed as a hooker (unless fancy dress calls for such an occasion) I as a women should be able to go about my daily life without being constantly harassed or shamed for dressing a certain way. And it goes to show that the majority of people feel the same way. Just because a girl or women is wearing a short skirt or revealing top does not mean she is gagging for it, in need of it or indeed deserving of it, with the 'it' being unwanted attention in the form of gropes, grabs or in extreme circumstances rape. A women, or indeed a man, should have the freedom to walk down the street wearing nothing at all without having to worry about being sexually assaulted. I should be free to do as I please without being tormented or bullied into a sexual act. Of course everyone feels pressure from the other sex, both men and women, but I think that is all part of growing up and not only teaching others but to teach yourself where that line is and when to say no, enough is enough.
After my stint on the tube with my London-lovers I tottled out of Goldhawk station with one thing on my mind. Toilet! I desperately needed a wee however was meant to be meeting Mr. Cheese and his fit flatmate in less than a few minutes. I made the decision to pop to the Costa across the street and relieve myself before returning to the spot I left moments earlier. Whilst in the coffee shop thrown room Mr. Cheese had rang me several times. Not wanting him to hear me gush I shut it off. Outside the tube station entrance I scrambled in my bag once more as my mobile buzzed with excited tone as Mr. Cheese tried to call me yet again. Answering this time, I put on a sexy voice only to be playfully yelled at in response. "Get on that bus!" Mr. Cheese threatened and even before I had a chance to answer back the iconic red double-decker pulled up along side me in traffic. Screaming back as I teetled along in my new heels that my boyfriend was making me run for public transport I boarded and joined him and the flatmate upstairs, much to the happiness that I had pleased both of their peepers with my ensemble.
We decided to go for dinner soon after we got back to the flat in West London and settled on a place well-known in the area as the place to get ice-cream. A favourite haunt of mine and Mr. Cheese's we had been going there ever since I first graced Chiswick back in late summer last year. Never had we stayed for dinner though as somewhere had always looked more appetising. Following instructions of the boyfriends flatmate we all sat at a table and ordered. I never noticed I was flirting but I suppose in a way I was looking back on it. Not even knowing it, I shared my dinner with the flatmate and even shared a few girlish giggles too. I was charmed by his love of Arctic Monkeys and horror flicks but my being was all of Mr. Cheese's and he knew that. Or did he? As I engaged in conversation with the fit flatmate I noticed someone else getting very tall and broad! Was this jealousy I was seeing? Was my boyfriend, the very man whom invented the phrasing of chest-wig, was he a little bit threatened? I think he was! Taking note of the hand rubbing, arm round my shoulder, constant pecks and kisses, thigh touching and his increasingly puffed-up chest I felt both amorous but also slightly awkward given the situation already. Food arriving we ate and continued in our merriment scoffing and laughing well into the evening.
Arriving back at the flat later on, the T.D.H (Tall, Dark and Handsome) flatmate left me and the Cheese to it and with an almost instant ignition a spark was lit and we were all over each other like a cheap suit. Taking note of our lustiness and being slammed into the corner of the couch I suggested we took it to the bedroom. Laying down on the fresh, comfy sheets I had come to love my mind wondered with thoughts of an exciting and explicit nature. Kisses and touches playful tickles and teases we tried to keep the noise down as we excitedly played with each others bodies. Pausing for a moment amongst all of it I gazed into the blueness of my boyfriend's eyes and wondered where all the passion had come from. I didn't care. The heat and immense passion between us at that point was palpable and something I shall struggle to forget. All I knew was that I loved it and when I climbed on top ready to satisfy us both I was glad to hear that Mr. Cheese said I was hot. I never really see myself as hot. Maybe cute but rarely hot. I took pleasure in that comment as I had done with his hand magic earlier. That night I settled calmly into his chest, knowing that it was the first night of pure intimacy I had felt in a long time. I was in a world of pure bliss. I fought the urge to again, as I always do after sex, to say those three little words. I couldn't help myself. As I whispered "I love You" I thought about what a wonderful situation I am in and that it was silly to think that not that long ago I was contemplating letting it all go.
If this last weekend is anything to go by then I will have a very fruity post next week. Mr. Cheese and I will be Mini-Breaking in Bristol this weekend, a place I have wanted to go to for ages and somewhere held very close to Mr.Cheese's heart for that is where he partied hard whilst studying for his degree in ancient history. What a clever boffin! And so I shall probably be writing to you from somewhere in the South West of England as I hurtle through the Devonshire countryside on a train back to London or maybe even in London itself. Either way I am sure I will be worn out, exhausted and with many a naughty tale to tell ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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