Hello,
I can certainly say that the last week has been much better than before. Whilst I am still stressed up to my eyeballs what with trying to find a solicitor that will actually communicate with me, source some little bits and pieces for our home and get a handle on my fluctuating depression, I have certainly found the last few days a little bit easier to deal with. Therapy this week was helpful and whilst I feel as though we are going over old ground with my mother and brother and that whole scenario, I feel as though this is a key component in trying to work out where I go from now and how best I go forward with my life and those in it. Life was just about manageable until Saturday morning happened.
We had a new girl, maybe in her early twenties move in a couple of weeks ago, a lovely lass who seemingly appears to scrub up well when going on a night out and apparently had a toddler daughter that was due to be moving in with her soon. We hadn't spoken much to her if anything at all but seemed like she was a responsible and caring person, although sometimes the types of characters and people coming and going in and out of her flat were questionable sometimes. With most of her guests being young men or in their 20's and spending roughly about 20 minutes in her flat and then leaving, Mr Warehouse and I had our own ideas about what potentially they may be getting up to in such a short amount of time and I am sure you will make your own mind up also!
Saturday Morning however I was awoken at 6:45am by the iron gate at the side of our Alley-walk-way we shared with our new Neighbour being forcibly banged against the wall, clattering and clanging every time. Hoping it might have been the wind or rain bashing it against the wall periodically I rolled over, enjoying the free space that Mr Warehouse had given me when he went to work in the small hours of that morning. Not long after the clattering I heard a massive argument ensue which included grown men, about our age, yelling and shouting at each other. Getting up and out of bed to see what was going on I peered out of my bedroom window only to see fighting.
"I've just buried my fucking Dad man and if your not careful I'll fucking bury you too" one lad shouted at another before storming off down the street, continuing the fight and even pushing and shoving each other on to the parked cars on the street. I heard the neighbours from upstairs shout down for them to pack it in. To be fair to them they did shut up for a short while before it erupted again, this time leading to glass bottles being thrown and smashed on the street outside our bedroom window. I could only assume that this was a drunken fuelled argument or spat that has happened between our new neighbours and/or her friends.
Now honestly I don't mind the parties or even the copious amounts of lads that are in and out of that flat on a weekly basis, I am not bothered or fazed by this at all. However I am, I think, understandably pissed when I am awoken so early on a weekend morning to World War III kicking off outside my bedroom window. Thinking that there wasn't much left to do apart from just simply get up and have a coffee and maybe breakfast, I called Mr Warehouse and spoke to him about Jeremy Kyle Live that has just started outside our flat. Mr. Warehouse continued to explain that this had apparently been going since the very early hours over the morning when at three in the morning when he was awoken by our upstairs neighbours yelling down to the rowdy youths in order to keep the noise down as it was a quiet family street and we were all trying to sleep. When the Bae then went to work just a couple of hours later at 5 o'clock it was still going and whilst the music was quiet there was quite a lot of loud talking and running back and forth along the side of our Alley-walk-way.
After the glass bottles were smashed outside on the street, there seemed to be a bit of a clean up operation in which the debris was cleared as best as possible, but with what appeared to be a spliff in one hand holding a red Cup probably containing a good measure of alcohol and the other hand in a desperate attempt to try and Sweep up what glass they could see with their beer Goggles on there is certainly a lot left to be desired. Flicking the kettle and rubbing my eyes I thank my lucky stars that I had my dressing gown on as two police officers were also called to the incident, I can only assume from the other residents on the street that were also awoken. Sipping my coffee as I watched some shit Saturday morning TV, all of which with one eye on the garden gate leading into our new neighbours flat of course.
After summoning all my might to get dressed, I took the Pooch for a walk only to find that the glass was scarcely cleaned up and was still a bit of a mess, something which could also cause other children or other pets on the street harm not to mention possibly even puncturing Mr. Warehouse's bike when he comes home. I also noticed that because of the constant banging and slamming of the gate that our little sign is broken which welcomed visitors and warned them of our pup. Now whilst it cost under a fiver I still didn't appreciate that our property was being treated in this way and with such disrespect as well.
Mr. Warehouse came home a few hours later and was the most angriest I have ever seen him. Seething, he ranted loudly about how disrespectful, rude and inconsiderate they were being. But what could we do? I had contacted my landlord a couple of hours after it had all kicked off and within minutes he had come storming round to the property, fuming that he was being taken for a ride and seemingly being made out to look like a mug. But now there were just as many people as before coming and going and coming back again, now even just standing around and having conversations in our garden. I felt quite uncomfortable and judging from the amount of alcohol that was going into the flat and comings and goings, I very much doubted that this would be ending anytime soon.
Messaging my landlord again in one last ditch attempt to try and get something sorted before it's all got out of hand again. As before, within a few moments of me sending the message there was a car screeching to a halt and parking up outside. Not thinking much of that I saw my landlord storm right through past our flat and into the our new neighbours garden, banging on the glass and ushering for the lass to come out.
"Woah who the fuck are you mate!" one bloke yelled obviously upset that his potential Beau had another older man banging at her window.
"I'm the landlord of this place" he answered as he marched the girl to the front of the property where they had a heated discussion, I can only assume (because I did not have my window open - Silly me) that she was being read the riot act and as a result would have to be on her best behaviour in order to keep a roof over her head.
I think all of that had happened on Saturday without my Approval In Principle / AIP and Mr Warehouse and buy in the process of moving soon, it's almost certainly would have made my mood even worse. Not long now!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boys. Show all posts
Monday, 25 June 2018
Monday, 26 February 2018
The Night Of Lola The Showgirl!
Hello!
Another long week over and done with I was certainly more than happy that it was finally payday. It felt as though February had been a lot longer of a month than the payday between Christmas and the end of January. Maybe it was the fact that all of my money was ploughed into a savings account ISA in order to desperately try and save for a house in order to move out before Christmas this year. This, coupled with the fact that my weight has now started to slow down after losing so much over Christmas and New Year despite all the personal training sessions and gym visits has all in all left me feeling slightly deflated. With no holiday to look forward to this year and very little planned in the calendar I was certainly struggling with my motivation for losing weight and saving for my first home!
Deciding that I was not going to spend another month not going out and being a complete antisocial recluse, I organised a works night out. Following the works Christmas party and how much fun it was, not to mention just how messy it ended up, I was certain that a good old-fashioned night out to paint the town red! On sending the email out to my colleague I eagerly awaited their response. But nothing came, only a few replies on how some people were not able to make it. There were a few suggestions that involved team activities that were not alcohol related but on trying to obtain numbers no one seemed to care. So it seemed up until last minute it was just me and a couple of the girls going out for a quiet drink and maybe a dance.
Heading for some pre-drinks round one of the girls house's, gossipping away about music and the likes, trying to decided on what pair of shoes goes with what dress and whether anyone can see our VPL - Visible Panty Line. Frosty air nipping at our legs we were finally in a pub keeping warm and refreshed with some Prosecco or two. Later on the music started to pump and in between scrolling though social media and nattering over the tunes there would be a Selfie or two. Unfortunately none of us out saw the arrogant twat walking towards us like some sort of Andy Warhol. Dressed in an overly tight top that saw the blood supply cut off to his exterior limbs, he waltzed over to our table and failing to introduce himself like a true gent (or to be honest anyone with any ounce of dignity or respect) and practically snatched my Smart phone out of my hand in order to "help" us clearly failing and weak women take a Selfie.
Five minutes he was still there and despite our efforts to move him along politely we had given up and lost our patience with him and his poxy photography skills fast. Insulting him as only women know how to by emasculating the little toe-rag he eventually got the picture and pissed off, leaving my phone back in my safe hands and with a dozen or so badly taken and blurred images of three women on the Razz.
Carrying on throughout the night we were joined by some other work colleagues whom were also on a night out with some of their friends, joining together in a drunken stupor I felt like the fifth wheel in all of this. Not wanting to interrupt anyone's conversation and boring of looking at my phone I went off in search of some company. Male was my choice preferably as they were normally more friendly and usually happy to see anyone of the female variety taking an interest, even a Hepher like me! Or so I thought. The first lad I made conversation with was tall with light brown curly hair in what the kids on the street call a "Meet Me At McDonalds" Haircut. Wearing a dusty blue grey jumper and being typically British I mentioned how cold it was and we struck up a chat which eventually lead to him asking for my number. Before I even had a chance to turn around and run back to my friends or tell him I had a boyfriend I was thrust a phone and asked to put in my number. When I handed it back and said I had done it, I was promptly told that this was not true as Mr. Meet-Me-At-McDonalds-Haircut had been watching me the whole time and I had not given my number. "Persistent I'll give him that" I thought as I typed a random number into my phone and saved it under 'Lola' - And yes she was a showgirl!
Heading off from one public house to the next I found myself in the wallet-sucking auction room and whilst its nice atmosphere, relatively good music and nice cocktails are always welcome in my books, the price you pay for a dribble of Blossom Hill White Zinfandel (my fave) you could walk up the road to the corner shop and buy a whole bottle and still have change. Separated from my work buds I made some new ones with a guy who was sat alone and looking melancholy. Striking up conversation in probably the most intoxicated way possible whereby I thrust my hand out and introduced myself. The gentleman obliged and we got chatting, later on his friends joined and I got talking to some more guys and they asked if I was single. "Wow two lots of guys in one night?! Surely this cant be happening? They must all have that 'Shallow Hal' thing going on!" I pondered. Laughing it off I found my friends and I danced the rest of the night away without many cares in the world apart from having a good time.
I never knew that I would have been so popular with the lads. I mean granted I did make the first move in terms of walking over for a chat and introducing myself in a proper way as opposed to our All-Muscle-No-Brains "Photographer" earlier in the evening. Being the size I am (UK Size 18/20) I would have thought that men would have turned the other way, ignored me or worse made a joke but in actual fact I think they were just pleased for the attention and the fact that someone was maybe interested in talking to them for a change and not them having to do all the chasing, not that that was what I was after. I kinda feel sorry for lads sometimes as they are damned if they do and damned if they don't in many a moral dilemma, especially when it comes to dating and anything concerned with the opposite sex.
Now I know some people may criticise me and ask why I did all those things on Friday night when I had a perfectly good-to-me boyfriend sat at home. The thing is that I did not intend to go out with the intention of pulling, cheating or handing out myself like sweeties. I have respect for myself regardless of when I am in or out of a relationship. I know how to conduct myself and am confident in the situations I put myself in. If I wanted to cheat I could and would have done it months if not years ago. But I didn't and don't. Why? Because Mr. Warehouse and I have a strong relationship which means he can go out, chat with other girls, dance with other girls and even mildly flirt with them if he so wishes just as I can and did on Friday night, but the difference between us and other couples is that we trust each other and that each night one or both of us goes out on the piss, we know we're coming home to something much, much more special, meaningful and precious than some twenty-something in "Da Club"!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 17 August 2015
Teenage Dreams!
Hello Fellow Humans,
I have finished with my Googling of Teeth Fetish's and Horny Dental Nurse Porn. Instead I have set my sights the bookshelf of my youth. Ahh yes, my teenage diaries!
I shall invite you this evening into the world of Pre-TATOATS. A universe before the wonderment of college and complicated-ness of adult life as I know it now. First entry is from 2008, a year I remember for all the wrong reasons; Turning seventeen, getting my first boyfriend, first girls holiday abroad with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Prom, Finishing School, Exams and my parents divorce, not to mention what the subsequent months entailed ...
---
01 January 2008
Dear Diary,
OMG! First day of 2008 and I sat on my bum and did nothing all day. Well not all day but hey-ho! I made a video for Miss Tweedle-Dee (yes I have known her that long!) about Miss Tweedle-Dee. I also watched The Mighty Boosh (of which I am still an avid fan!) and wow it is actually amazzzzing! I love The Mighty Boosh and I love Noel Fielding. He is fit! Noel Fielding is the best thing ever and I want his babies! Anyway, as I was saying. January. I have lots of things planned already like seeing Elliot Minor (some unknown, unsigned student emo-band I used to be into that apparently made it big!?). So New Years Day means New Years Resolutions which in turn mean that I will make stupid, pathetic little rules about life that I will attempt to follow and yet after two weeks fail miserably and be found in the corner of my music class scoffing galaxy chocolate and lusting after Mr. Woof (yes and him!) as per usual! OMG! that first sentence was so gay?! LOL! (my twenty-year-old self is still impressed with how much Sass I had back then!)
9pm - OK so now I am upstairs and upset. I am so fucked off right now! Stupid brother and his provoking attitude. Little dick splash. Who does he think he is winding me up like that. Needs to grow some pubes the little Knob Stain! Grrrr!
---
13 February 2008
Dear Diary,
So right now I am sitting on my bed listening to my devil of a brother sing The hills are alive. Well I wish they were alive so they would swallow you whole you pathetic little worm. Also went to town today with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I am really glad as I think I unearthed some home-truths. She said that I bounce from Guy to Guy and am a bit of a pinball when it comes to boys, latching myself onto them and getting hurt. Maybe this is because I have never had a proper boyfriend before or been in a real relationship. I hate to say it but I think she is right. (safe to say that my teenage years only reflected directly onto my twenties love-life)
---
14 April 2008
Dear Diary,
Well today has been boring! Although it has gone rather fast and unusually exciting! OMG! LOL! PMSL! ROTFL! LMAO! OK so I am walking home from school and I glance over and see Mr. Prom (a guy I fancied in the first year of High school, went off him for a while and then fell in love with him just before Prom, asked him to be my date at prom, he agreed, we flirted for a while but he never came Prom shopping with me and we didn't get round to sorting anything out for the big night so we never went to Prom together. He became Prom King, some bitch became Prom Queen and I think he is now studying Fitness and playing Rugby at University somewhere in Kent!). Then I hear as I turn away and smile subtly him sing beautifully that song from Pretty Women. I mean Wow! I'm in love! I heart R.C!
---
02 June 2008
Dear Diary,
Nicola (whoever she was) is such a bitch-whore! (at this point teen-me has drawn a picture of a stick man with a hairy bearded fact and wearing a skirt with a dick popping out) God I hate her so much! Apparently I am doing my new job as a school cleaner all wrong and not doing it properly! Well fuck you shit head! (Ahh yes now I know who Nicola was. She was my boss at the time. Large lady with Ginger frizzy hair like Merida from Disney's Brave. We all have those days at work don't we, even now I call people Bitch-whores in my head!)
---
25/26 July 2008
Dear Diary,
So off on holiday today to fucking France yet again (Despite me booking a holiday to Lyon in August this year with Mr. Warehouse - Clearly wasn't that bad!?) but at least this time I am with my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dumb. So once we were on the Ferry and Mom, Dad and Brat Brother had pissed off to find some crappy-shitty reclining chairs, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I thought we would do an all nighter. As we were on the deck though. Haha Poop Deck - LOL. Yeah so as we were on Deck watching the ocean we saw these two guys. Daring Dan and Magic Marc were their names. After stalking them for a while we got chatting. OMG! Dan is so cute (at later glances though I can assure you he was not!) and I think he is well into me (Definitely wasn't as I later found out through Myspace.com that he had a girlfriend)! What could possibly prepare Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I for what happened next. No we didn't have sex! Although I was so ready! (Haha, no I wasn't I was like sixteen and couldn't spell sex if I tried) Once we had stalked and captured our prey Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I took them to a secluded, dark and derelict part of the ship (No, not a ship, a ferry). Then IT happened! Dan was spewing some shit about how he gave free hugs (a Japanese thing that I think we all did at school as an excuse to let off some steam and grope one another) but also kisses for a pound. But me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were "Skint" so we were allowed free ones. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was pounced upon with no warning. I was given a more gentle and slow passionate snog! OMG! He was a good kisser. Top five maybe! He was sooo cute about it. "Hair" he said to me as he pulled the hairs from my face and went in for the kill (as if this bloke was some kind of fucking vampire!?). Not gonna lie I have a super big crush on him and his Stars and Straps Hi-Tops! OMFG! He is so scene! Best Holiday ever! (Until years later we went on the first holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in Fuerteventura)
---
Ahh What I didn't know was round the corner was yet more heart ache, but also fun and frivolous times ahead. As if there wasn't enough already!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
I have finished with my Googling of Teeth Fetish's and Horny Dental Nurse Porn. Instead I have set my sights the bookshelf of my youth. Ahh yes, my teenage diaries!
I shall invite you this evening into the world of Pre-TATOATS. A universe before the wonderment of college and complicated-ness of adult life as I know it now. First entry is from 2008, a year I remember for all the wrong reasons; Turning seventeen, getting my first boyfriend, first girls holiday abroad with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Prom, Finishing School, Exams and my parents divorce, not to mention what the subsequent months entailed ...
---
Dear Diary,
OMG! First day of 2008 and I sat on my bum and did nothing all day. Well not all day but hey-ho! I made a video for Miss Tweedle-Dee (yes I have known her that long!) about Miss Tweedle-Dee. I also watched The Mighty Boosh (of which I am still an avid fan!) and wow it is actually amazzzzing! I love The Mighty Boosh and I love Noel Fielding. He is fit! Noel Fielding is the best thing ever and I want his babies! Anyway, as I was saying. January. I have lots of things planned already like seeing Elliot Minor (some unknown, unsigned student emo-band I used to be into that apparently made it big!?). So New Years Day means New Years Resolutions which in turn mean that I will make stupid, pathetic little rules about life that I will attempt to follow and yet after two weeks fail miserably and be found in the corner of my music class scoffing galaxy chocolate and lusting after Mr. Woof (yes and him!) as per usual! OMG! that first sentence was so gay?! LOL! (my twenty-year-old self is still impressed with how much Sass I had back then!)
9pm - OK so now I am upstairs and upset. I am so fucked off right now! Stupid brother and his provoking attitude. Little dick splash. Who does he think he is winding me up like that. Needs to grow some pubes the little Knob Stain! Grrrr!
---
Dear Diary,
So right now I am sitting on my bed listening to my devil of a brother sing The hills are alive. Well I wish they were alive so they would swallow you whole you pathetic little worm. Also went to town today with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I am really glad as I think I unearthed some home-truths. She said that I bounce from Guy to Guy and am a bit of a pinball when it comes to boys, latching myself onto them and getting hurt. Maybe this is because I have never had a proper boyfriend before or been in a real relationship. I hate to say it but I think she is right. (safe to say that my teenage years only reflected directly onto my twenties love-life)
---
Dear Diary,
Well today has been boring! Although it has gone rather fast and unusually exciting! OMG! LOL! PMSL! ROTFL! LMAO! OK so I am walking home from school and I glance over and see Mr. Prom (a guy I fancied in the first year of High school, went off him for a while and then fell in love with him just before Prom, asked him to be my date at prom, he agreed, we flirted for a while but he never came Prom shopping with me and we didn't get round to sorting anything out for the big night so we never went to Prom together. He became Prom King, some bitch became Prom Queen and I think he is now studying Fitness and playing Rugby at University somewhere in Kent!). Then I hear as I turn away and smile subtly him sing beautifully that song from Pretty Women. I mean Wow! I'm in love! I heart R.C!
---
Dear Diary,
Nicola (whoever she was) is such a bitch-whore! (at this point teen-me has drawn a picture of a stick man with a hairy bearded fact and wearing a skirt with a dick popping out) God I hate her so much! Apparently I am doing my new job as a school cleaner all wrong and not doing it properly! Well fuck you shit head! (Ahh yes now I know who Nicola was. She was my boss at the time. Large lady with Ginger frizzy hair like Merida from Disney's Brave. We all have those days at work don't we, even now I call people Bitch-whores in my head!)
---
25/26 July 2008
Dear Diary,
So off on holiday today to fucking France yet again (Despite me booking a holiday to Lyon in August this year with Mr. Warehouse - Clearly wasn't that bad!?) but at least this time I am with my bestie, Miss Tweedle-Dumb. So once we were on the Ferry and Mom, Dad and Brat Brother had pissed off to find some crappy-shitty reclining chairs, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I thought we would do an all nighter. As we were on the deck though. Haha Poop Deck - LOL. Yeah so as we were on Deck watching the ocean we saw these two guys. Daring Dan and Magic Marc were their names. After stalking them for a while we got chatting. OMG! Dan is so cute (at later glances though I can assure you he was not!) and I think he is well into me (Definitely wasn't as I later found out through Myspace.com that he had a girlfriend)! What could possibly prepare Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I for what happened next. No we didn't have sex! Although I was so ready! (Haha, no I wasn't I was like sixteen and couldn't spell sex if I tried) Once we had stalked and captured our prey Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I took them to a secluded, dark and derelict part of the ship (No, not a ship, a ferry). Then IT happened! Dan was spewing some shit about how he gave free hugs (a Japanese thing that I think we all did at school as an excuse to let off some steam and grope one another) but also kisses for a pound. But me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were "Skint" so we were allowed free ones. Miss Tweedle-Dumb was pounced upon with no warning. I was given a more gentle and slow passionate snog! OMG! He was a good kisser. Top five maybe! He was sooo cute about it. "Hair" he said to me as he pulled the hairs from my face and went in for the kill (as if this bloke was some kind of fucking vampire!?). Not gonna lie I have a super big crush on him and his Stars and Straps Hi-Tops! OMFG! He is so scene! Best Holiday ever! (Until years later we went on the first holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in Fuerteventura)
---
Ahh What I didn't know was round the corner was yet more heart ache, but also fun and frivolous times ahead. As if there wasn't enough already!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 15 September 2014
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
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
Monday, 18 August 2014
The Irish Experiance
Top 'o the marning to ya',
Or at least that's what they say in Ireland. Haha. Anyhoo I hope all is well and good with everyone and it is safe to say that I am fully recovered and rejuvenated from my adventures of the lactose variety. I am now back home safe and sound and ready for a fresh new chapter ahead. Well Kinda!
So after I left the House of Cheese last Sunday I whizzed back home, up my apartment stairs still dressed in the outfit from the night before, suspenders and all and rallied around my penthouse for my bag and all the other bits I would be taking away with me to Ireland. After making several trips up and down those god awful stairs many more times as a result of leaving something important behind I finally left in good time to make my train and grab a good old Starbucks before heading to the departure lounge. I was hoping to find a nice Irish fellow, maybe works in something fun like marketing or advertising to chat with on the journey. Maybe we would fall in love and he would invite me to stay in Dublin for ever and ever and live happily ever after under the shadows of the Guinness factory. Alas though this was not the case and after taking off late due to a delay I began to feel nauseous. Maybe my last night of passion had caught up with me? Nevertheless I tucked into my hearty breakfast bap from Starbs and let the oxygenated air knock me out for six.
Landing in Dublin I knew I was already going to be pushed for time catching my coach from the airport to the village closest to my Aunt and Uncles cottage in Callan, County Kilkenny. Rushing past fellow flyer's and nearly pushing a small Spanish boy onto the luggage carousel in a mad dash to get through security I managed to get outside into the Irish air but missed my coach by mere minutes. 'Damn Spanish kids' I thought to myself as I begged for a Irish driver to detour and take me to where I needed to go. Thankfully a nice man let me on his bus and I headed for the city centre hoping I could make my connection there. As the city lit up with the evenings lights under a dark rain cloud it began to pour and the heavens opened over the home of the leprechaun. Just as I thought it was too late my trusty bus driver pulled into the coach yard and yelled at the now leaving coach bound for what I would call home for the next week or so to stop and allow me to board. The luck of the Irish 'eh?
After a long and winding journey through the Irish hills that seemed to roll on forever and countless attempts to get my phone to work in what appeared to be a completely foreign country (Thanks T-Mobile) I finally arrived at my destination. A local farmer friend of the family came to collect me and we made small talk most of the journey home. Letting myself into the small cottage I breathed a sigh of relief as I took in the sights that had comforted me so many times before. Somehow I always feel like I am at home in Ireland.
Settling in I unpacked and threw on some pyjamas in the hope that there might be something decent on TV like a film or such. Casting my phone aside and telling myself that I would deal with it tomorrow I flopped into the leather couch and prepared for my first night alone. In the middle of nowhere. Miles from the nearest neighbour. Where you can scream and no one will hear you. With no protection other than a blunt letter opener. 'Yes, I think I fancy watching My Little Pony tonight!' I thought to myself as I made sure that the front door was locked. Luckily I didn't have too long to enjoy my own company as I was joined the following morning by my Aunt and Uncle's dogs arriving back from the kennels. I was hoping that maybe now would be my chance to meet a handsome Irish man. No. This one I am sad to say was old and had a white beard to rival Captain Bird's Eye. Taking hold of the leads the large dogs, one a Pitbull type and the other a slobbery Dog Bordeaux, I could feel how strong they were. Pulling on the chains I shoved them into the house whilst I waved off my only communication for that day and collected the rest of the dog stuff.
Snuggled up on the leather settee was where myself and my furry friends spent most of the next few days, watching reruns of Friends (In which I had never really seen before but now I am hooked and feel I now need to spend the next few weeks catching up on everything between 1994 and 2004). I did however venture out most days, oddly going for a run a couple of times. I know - I must have been bored. I did venture into the city of Kilkenny one day to see the sights and to have a cheeky shop in the knowledge that my bags had plenty more room to fill with clothes and shoes. Sad to say though by this point (Tuesday Afternoon I might add) I was already missing work and so this reflected in my shopping habits with me picking up several new shirts and a pencil skirt I shall no doubt return once home. Exhausted I headed for a bearded gentleman manning the information desk to call me a cab back home since my driver was unavailable for the week. After dialling for a taxi and trying with no avail to tell him where I needed to go I sat in the back of the large silver tin can hoping and praying that he wouldn't turn down a dirt track and try to grope me.
Thankfully I made it home in one piece although robbed of forty-euros for the cab fare. The cheek! Apparently I found out at a later date that the journey in total shouldn't have cost no more than about twenty but how was a pretty little English girl to know that? Disregarding the incident I went about my usual duties for the week feeding all the animals on my Aunties increasingly growing collection of farm yard creatures. In total I was sharing my Irish retreat with four goats - One of them pregnant, a horse, several chickens, a rooster, a couple of guinea fowl and three dogs. Snuggling down under the blankets and with the warmth of the hounds we watched a film and then headed to bed. Soon enough though the weekend was upon us and I was greeted by the local farmer again offering to take me to the local pub up the road for a proper Irish knees up and a few pints. Obviously I obliged but had to clear myself of dog hair and the smell of oats.
Donning my boots and 'Big-Boob-Bra' I headed out for a night out with the local lads. Lads however may have been an extreme use of the word. I think maybe the phrase I was looking for was of the more mature variety. Stepping into the quaint little public house I could tell how it once used to be someones front room. Warm and cosy though I stood at the bar and soaked up the surroundings. It was far from busy and I took shelter with my 'date' for the evening until I found some company. Looking around my thoughts were confirmed. I was not only the youngest in the joint but also the only female! Now most people would have thought 'Oh dear god no! They will harass me and try all there best 1974 chat-up lines on me?!' but not me. I revelled in the conversation about cow's and farming, even dropping in about my blog once or twice. 'I knew I would be a hit' I thought to myself as I spurred out all the old tales of bad dates and naughty escapades of a younger, less informed self. Rounding off the night I thought I might have to carry my farmer friend home but thankfully his wonderful wife came to collect us and saved me from a good four-mile trek home in the scary darkness of the Irish wilderness.
Being woken up at the crack of dawn by the rooster "Cock-a-doodle-dooing" is something I shall never become accustomed to however on the morning following the Irish night out my head was craving for more time with the pillow. I reluctantly rolled out of bed, fixed my curls into pigtails and began the feeding of horse, goats and poultry. I did fancy picking one of the chickens up and just whispering to it "Nando's" but I thought that would just make me hungry so went back inside to find the CoCo Pops. Rounding off my week away I rose early this morning to make sure that all the animals were fed and watered and that the dog man collected the pooches before I headed off back to Dublin and to catch my flight later on that afternoon. And after all my in-vain searching for an Irish fellow I finally found one in the Kennel-boy.
Pulling up in the silver van I could hear the Pitbull and Dog Bordeaux going mental. Not evening thinking twice I nearly ran outside to see what all the commotion was all about minus my top. Bare breasts to the guy that collects Mutts for a living is not the best first impression to give someone not to mention probably making the poor boy vomit and causing mental scarring. Huffing on a vest and joining the barking two-some outside I could see what they were barking at ... Woof Woof! Talk with wispy curly hair and a thick Southern Irish accent and I was sold. On top of all that (Yes please!) he worked with dogs for a living so no more bow-wow bashing. Handing them over to him I thought about crawling into the cages next to them and asking the young chap to take me for a walk!
After watching my Irish farmer boy drive off up the lanes I waited next for my carriage to whisk me away to Kilkenny so I could grab a much needed coffee and some breakfast before boarding the coach again back to Dublin. Waiting at the station I helped out a African man struggling with a folding bike, unbeknown to me however it turns out I had made a friend. When questions surrounding my love-life arose I remembered how Mr. Cheese had said that African men always see a girl with no ring on her finger as a potential wife. Reacting quickly and not wanting my love-life to seem as tragic as it actually is I made up a story that I was engaged and that my fiancée whom I have lived with for several years after meeting at University in London, was buying the ring this weekend. It seemed to throw him off but left me feeling deflated and wondering when or even if I will ever get to that point in life.
Trundling through the city streets of Dublin flooded my head with wondrous fantasies about one day living over there. Not permanently of course, I can barely leave my Tweedles for a week let alone a lifetime! No maybe just a year or less. You know, living in a hostel, working in a bar, making new friends and chatting up nice Irish men! What could be better. It got me thinking and I am now seriously considering a sabbatical from work to live out an Green Isle adventure. Finally connecting to Airport WiFi I completely miss read the departure gate for my flight and instead of being at gate 107 I was at 307. 'Im not going to Manchester?' I thought. Then it hit me and my Caramel Frappachino like a tonne of bricks - 'Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!'
Running through the airport as they were making the call for final boarding I realised that not only do I probably look like a twat running but that I may become one of the disgruntled passengers I always laugh at on my favourite TV programme of all time 'Airline'. Finally arriving at the correct gate I flew through the check in and boarded the plane home. And so here I am now. At my trusty window in my apartment writing to you fine people! Safe to say though that my feet themselves will barely be touching the ground this week as I have to go into work tomorrow to sort some stuff out, I have the UnDate that we spoke of that I may have to reschedule as well as all the washing and packing for the weekend ahead. Weekend ahead you ask? Well I most certainly will not be going to Tiffany's to pick out an engagement ring with my future husband (Or maybe I will?!) No I will be crowning myself as an Indian Chief and getting down and dirty with the best of them. Mallet, mud-fights and cagoule at the ready - Next weekend is Reading Festival 2014!
'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
Or at least that's what they say in Ireland. Haha. Anyhoo I hope all is well and good with everyone and it is safe to say that I am fully recovered and rejuvenated from my adventures of the lactose variety. I am now back home safe and sound and ready for a fresh new chapter ahead. Well Kinda!
So after I left the House of Cheese last Sunday I whizzed back home, up my apartment stairs still dressed in the outfit from the night before, suspenders and all and rallied around my penthouse for my bag and all the other bits I would be taking away with me to Ireland. After making several trips up and down those god awful stairs many more times as a result of leaving something important behind I finally left in good time to make my train and grab a good old Starbucks before heading to the departure lounge. I was hoping to find a nice Irish fellow, maybe works in something fun like marketing or advertising to chat with on the journey. Maybe we would fall in love and he would invite me to stay in Dublin for ever and ever and live happily ever after under the shadows of the Guinness factory. Alas though this was not the case and after taking off late due to a delay I began to feel nauseous. Maybe my last night of passion had caught up with me? Nevertheless I tucked into my hearty breakfast bap from Starbs and let the oxygenated air knock me out for six.
Landing in Dublin I knew I was already going to be pushed for time catching my coach from the airport to the village closest to my Aunt and Uncles cottage in Callan, County Kilkenny. Rushing past fellow flyer's and nearly pushing a small Spanish boy onto the luggage carousel in a mad dash to get through security I managed to get outside into the Irish air but missed my coach by mere minutes. 'Damn Spanish kids' I thought to myself as I begged for a Irish driver to detour and take me to where I needed to go. Thankfully a nice man let me on his bus and I headed for the city centre hoping I could make my connection there. As the city lit up with the evenings lights under a dark rain cloud it began to pour and the heavens opened over the home of the leprechaun. Just as I thought it was too late my trusty bus driver pulled into the coach yard and yelled at the now leaving coach bound for what I would call home for the next week or so to stop and allow me to board. The luck of the Irish 'eh?
After a long and winding journey through the Irish hills that seemed to roll on forever and countless attempts to get my phone to work in what appeared to be a completely foreign country (Thanks T-Mobile) I finally arrived at my destination. A local farmer friend of the family came to collect me and we made small talk most of the journey home. Letting myself into the small cottage I breathed a sigh of relief as I took in the sights that had comforted me so many times before. Somehow I always feel like I am at home in Ireland.
Settling in I unpacked and threw on some pyjamas in the hope that there might be something decent on TV like a film or such. Casting my phone aside and telling myself that I would deal with it tomorrow I flopped into the leather couch and prepared for my first night alone. In the middle of nowhere. Miles from the nearest neighbour. Where you can scream and no one will hear you. With no protection other than a blunt letter opener. 'Yes, I think I fancy watching My Little Pony tonight!' I thought to myself as I made sure that the front door was locked. Luckily I didn't have too long to enjoy my own company as I was joined the following morning by my Aunt and Uncle's dogs arriving back from the kennels. I was hoping that maybe now would be my chance to meet a handsome Irish man. No. This one I am sad to say was old and had a white beard to rival Captain Bird's Eye. Taking hold of the leads the large dogs, one a Pitbull type and the other a slobbery Dog Bordeaux, I could feel how strong they were. Pulling on the chains I shoved them into the house whilst I waved off my only communication for that day and collected the rest of the dog stuff.
Snuggled up on the leather settee was where myself and my furry friends spent most of the next few days, watching reruns of Friends (In which I had never really seen before but now I am hooked and feel I now need to spend the next few weeks catching up on everything between 1994 and 2004). I did however venture out most days, oddly going for a run a couple of times. I know - I must have been bored. I did venture into the city of Kilkenny one day to see the sights and to have a cheeky shop in the knowledge that my bags had plenty more room to fill with clothes and shoes. Sad to say though by this point (Tuesday Afternoon I might add) I was already missing work and so this reflected in my shopping habits with me picking up several new shirts and a pencil skirt I shall no doubt return once home. Exhausted I headed for a bearded gentleman manning the information desk to call me a cab back home since my driver was unavailable for the week. After dialling for a taxi and trying with no avail to tell him where I needed to go I sat in the back of the large silver tin can hoping and praying that he wouldn't turn down a dirt track and try to grope me.
Thankfully I made it home in one piece although robbed of forty-euros for the cab fare. The cheek! Apparently I found out at a later date that the journey in total shouldn't have cost no more than about twenty but how was a pretty little English girl to know that? Disregarding the incident I went about my usual duties for the week feeding all the animals on my Aunties increasingly growing collection of farm yard creatures. In total I was sharing my Irish retreat with four goats - One of them pregnant, a horse, several chickens, a rooster, a couple of guinea fowl and three dogs. Snuggling down under the blankets and with the warmth of the hounds we watched a film and then headed to bed. Soon enough though the weekend was upon us and I was greeted by the local farmer again offering to take me to the local pub up the road for a proper Irish knees up and a few pints. Obviously I obliged but had to clear myself of dog hair and the smell of oats.
Donning my boots and 'Big-Boob-Bra' I headed out for a night out with the local lads. Lads however may have been an extreme use of the word. I think maybe the phrase I was looking for was of the more mature variety. Stepping into the quaint little public house I could tell how it once used to be someones front room. Warm and cosy though I stood at the bar and soaked up the surroundings. It was far from busy and I took shelter with my 'date' for the evening until I found some company. Looking around my thoughts were confirmed. I was not only the youngest in the joint but also the only female! Now most people would have thought 'Oh dear god no! They will harass me and try all there best 1974 chat-up lines on me?!' but not me. I revelled in the conversation about cow's and farming, even dropping in about my blog once or twice. 'I knew I would be a hit' I thought to myself as I spurred out all the old tales of bad dates and naughty escapades of a younger, less informed self. Rounding off the night I thought I might have to carry my farmer friend home but thankfully his wonderful wife came to collect us and saved me from a good four-mile trek home in the scary darkness of the Irish wilderness.
Being woken up at the crack of dawn by the rooster "Cock-a-doodle-dooing" is something I shall never become accustomed to however on the morning following the Irish night out my head was craving for more time with the pillow. I reluctantly rolled out of bed, fixed my curls into pigtails and began the feeding of horse, goats and poultry. I did fancy picking one of the chickens up and just whispering to it "Nando's" but I thought that would just make me hungry so went back inside to find the CoCo Pops. Rounding off my week away I rose early this morning to make sure that all the animals were fed and watered and that the dog man collected the pooches before I headed off back to Dublin and to catch my flight later on that afternoon. And after all my in-vain searching for an Irish fellow I finally found one in the Kennel-boy.
Pulling up in the silver van I could hear the Pitbull and Dog Bordeaux going mental. Not evening thinking twice I nearly ran outside to see what all the commotion was all about minus my top. Bare breasts to the guy that collects Mutts for a living is not the best first impression to give someone not to mention probably making the poor boy vomit and causing mental scarring. Huffing on a vest and joining the barking two-some outside I could see what they were barking at ... Woof Woof! Talk with wispy curly hair and a thick Southern Irish accent and I was sold. On top of all that (Yes please!) he worked with dogs for a living so no more bow-wow bashing. Handing them over to him I thought about crawling into the cages next to them and asking the young chap to take me for a walk!
After watching my Irish farmer boy drive off up the lanes I waited next for my carriage to whisk me away to Kilkenny so I could grab a much needed coffee and some breakfast before boarding the coach again back to Dublin. Waiting at the station I helped out a African man struggling with a folding bike, unbeknown to me however it turns out I had made a friend. When questions surrounding my love-life arose I remembered how Mr. Cheese had said that African men always see a girl with no ring on her finger as a potential wife. Reacting quickly and not wanting my love-life to seem as tragic as it actually is I made up a story that I was engaged and that my fiancée whom I have lived with for several years after meeting at University in London, was buying the ring this weekend. It seemed to throw him off but left me feeling deflated and wondering when or even if I will ever get to that point in life.
Trundling through the city streets of Dublin flooded my head with wondrous fantasies about one day living over there. Not permanently of course, I can barely leave my Tweedles for a week let alone a lifetime! No maybe just a year or less. You know, living in a hostel, working in a bar, making new friends and chatting up nice Irish men! What could be better. It got me thinking and I am now seriously considering a sabbatical from work to live out an Green Isle adventure. Finally connecting to Airport WiFi I completely miss read the departure gate for my flight and instead of being at gate 107 I was at 307. 'Im not going to Manchester?' I thought. Then it hit me and my Caramel Frappachino like a tonne of bricks - 'Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!'
Running through the airport as they were making the call for final boarding I realised that not only do I probably look like a twat running but that I may become one of the disgruntled passengers I always laugh at on my favourite TV programme of all time 'Airline'. Finally arriving at the correct gate I flew through the check in and boarded the plane home. And so here I am now. At my trusty window in my apartment writing to you fine people! Safe to say though that my feet themselves will barely be touching the ground this week as I have to go into work tomorrow to sort some stuff out, I have the UnDate that we spoke of that I may have to reschedule as well as all the washing and packing for the weekend ahead. Weekend ahead you ask? Well I most certainly will not be going to Tiffany's to pick out an engagement ring with my future husband (Or maybe I will?!) No I will be crowning myself as an Indian Chief and getting down and dirty with the best of them. Mallet, mud-fights and cagoule at the ready - Next weekend is Reading Festival 2014!
'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 4 August 2014
The Drought!
Morning All,
So with last week melancholy nature well and truly put to rest (no pun intended) and with my addiction to boys slightly scarred by the previous few date I have been on I have officially picked myself up and am ready to start again with dating - In more ways than one!
More than six-weeks have passed since I was last laid. Six Weeks! I didn't even know such a drought could happen like this. But whilst I wonder every night laying there drifting off listening to cats killing themselves or my middle-aged neighbours (whom I am pretty sure are swingers) my thoughts turn to why I am not hanging off the end of my black iron bed-frame. I am single. Still. Now this would not be such a bad thing but I feel that in some respects I am more highly sexed than your average female and as a result when I don't get it I end up tense, achy and stressed constantly. The effects of not having regular bodily stimulation takes on a physical as well as mental toll on my gorgeous body (Ironic there you see! Aha). Like today at work. I nearly hid under my desk from all my problem emails and phone-calls but instead I took my lunch and ate Cous Cous to which everyone from the office and adjacent warehouse now thinks I am a Toff! Mental note for future - You know you need to get some when you are reaching for the Ainsley Harriott Red Pepper Couscous in the supermarket. Step away from the freeze-dried goods aisle and hit me up someone on Tinder! And yes I am still addicted ...
Now whilst being single is definitely not a problem, in fact I think I much prefer myself out of a relationship, at least one that was as stifling as the last one I encountered; I still find that my needs are not being met. You see I am unfortunately a girl whom is unable to satisfy herself. Odd as it sounds and as strange as it may be I have never taken much pleasure in twilight antics of a lone nature. I find it tedious and boring. Its not that I don't like it, its just I don't see the point if I am alone. Besides, for moi, it is so much more thrilling and exciting when it is with someone else. Especially when you have been with that person a fair amount of time and you know that they have the history and skills to bring you there but sometimes just choose to keep you just beneath the peak for pure torturous pleasure until you beg them to stop. Even when your begging it doesn't always have to end. If you have a strong partner who can keep his (or her) cool then asking for something and not getting it is almost as exhilarating sending you into a wild frenzy, just itching for that release. I also have never experienced 'The Big O' yet. Now many men have tried, but most I feel have failed in there quest to bring me that wave of heat and excitement. Disappointing as it is I know that I may be one of the many women of this wonderful planet that never ever get to feel what it is like. But then again a question I always ask my friends - How do you know? I may well have had one and never even known about it. The annoying thing about all of this is that if anyone was even close to getting me there it would have been Mr. Workaholic or Mr. Cheese both of which are slightly absent right now!
Frustrating as this all is I know that I cannot wholly become fixated on what happens between the sheets. Whilst sex is a fairly sizable part of my relationship with someone, I understand that it isn't for everyone. I need someone who I can have fun with. Something fresh and new, exciting and clean (or filthy). I want to feel giddy and woozy as well as the horn. Am I looking for Love or am I just looking for a good time? This is the question that has been battling me for several weeks now and I feel that now is the time to decide. A boyfriend is just scary and not a necessity I really can deal with right now. A relationship (of sorts) that can be loose and free within reason is something I am tempted by. It intrigues me and teases me with all the possibilities it entails. As time passes by and the longer the dry spell continues the less my 'Number' seems to matter to me. I mean, I could always lie about how many people have seen the downstairs. I remember someone telling me a rule of thumb once - Divide your 'Number' by three and then add one?! That brings me out to 3.33 recurring. How does that work?
Maybe I need to work backwards rather than forwards with this whole dating thing! Start with the sex and see if it leads anywhere good. And whilst I like the idea of a NSA (No Strings Attached) set up I know it would be unlikely to work for both parties. An NSA programme is good in theory but it can never work when you live somewhere like Bedford where men that are pleasing to the eye are scarce. Plus I think that in the long run it would make me unhappy stuck with someone who I will inevitably fall head over heels for only to realise they like the back of my head rather than the front. If I wanted just sex I would have found that weeks ago but I am not. So what the hell am I looking for? Maybe I am therefore looking for a friends with benefits thing. The two are very different as I have come to discover. Where NSA sex is very much what it says on the tin - wham bam thank you ma'am; a friends with benefits situation is much more pleasant I feel. A place whereby if left long enough and seeds planted a fruitful, loving, nurturing relationship could blossom. The thing that I probably enjoyed most about the first few months with Mr. Cheese was simply having the freedom to do as a single girl can whilst having someone to snuggle up with and go on dates to the local ice-cream parlour. I want the cuddles at night, the spooning, the curled up TV days and the giggles and play-fights that turn into lazy but mind-blowing weekend afternoon sex. Yes, that is where I want to be.
Naturally I invest too much in people. even in dates that are not dates. It was only just this last weekend I spoke to Miss Tweedle-Dumb of a few dates lined up in the coming weeks jokingly mentioning how Abbey *Insert Last Name* sounds blissfully better than the last few. And as my dear best friend looked at me oddly I secretly envisioned our entire wedding day together like something from a girlie Rom-Com! I seem to start making the omelette before I have even loaded up my egg basket never mind how much is in it. Always thinking far too much into stuff and not letting things go with the flow. As my father said to me the other day after nearly an hour of showing him how to use Tinder that I should slow down and stop hunting for something that will make itself known when it is ready. Pappa Bear explained that I should take a moment for myself and remember that although I am nearly twenty-three, my clock still has a lot of tick left in it. Throughout what he was saying I knew he was being truthful but it still didn't silence that little part of me that thinks that if I reach thirty and am not at least married then I will defiantly be eaten by Alsations by the time I reach thirty-two. He told me I should be young and free, making mistakes and cringingly laughing about them with friends over a bottle of wine or two. I think he was talking about Love, but it could well have been a moment of insanity in which I seem to indulge in - Alot!
And with this in mind I my thoughts immediately turn to a naughty little thing I did the other day. An UnDate - Basically Date that is not a Date or whereby one of the attendees does not acknowledge the alterer motives of such a meeting with said other party. Make sense? Probably not. But not too worry all will be revealed soon after my trip to Ireland but for the time being I can't spill too much, but all I can say is that I better get some oven mittens because I could quite well get burnt by this one ...
''Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
So with last week melancholy nature well and truly put to rest (no pun intended) and with my addiction to boys slightly scarred by the previous few date I have been on I have officially picked myself up and am ready to start again with dating - In more ways than one!
More than six-weeks have passed since I was last laid. Six Weeks! I didn't even know such a drought could happen like this. But whilst I wonder every night laying there drifting off listening to cats killing themselves or my middle-aged neighbours (whom I am pretty sure are swingers) my thoughts turn to why I am not hanging off the end of my black iron bed-frame. I am single. Still. Now this would not be such a bad thing but I feel that in some respects I am more highly sexed than your average female and as a result when I don't get it I end up tense, achy and stressed constantly. The effects of not having regular bodily stimulation takes on a physical as well as mental toll on my gorgeous body (Ironic there you see! Aha). Like today at work. I nearly hid under my desk from all my problem emails and phone-calls but instead I took my lunch and ate Cous Cous to which everyone from the office and adjacent warehouse now thinks I am a Toff! Mental note for future - You know you need to get some when you are reaching for the Ainsley Harriott Red Pepper Couscous in the supermarket. Step away from the freeze-dried goods aisle and hit me up someone on Tinder! And yes I am still addicted ...
Now whilst being single is definitely not a problem, in fact I think I much prefer myself out of a relationship, at least one that was as stifling as the last one I encountered; I still find that my needs are not being met. You see I am unfortunately a girl whom is unable to satisfy herself. Odd as it sounds and as strange as it may be I have never taken much pleasure in twilight antics of a lone nature. I find it tedious and boring. Its not that I don't like it, its just I don't see the point if I am alone. Besides, for moi, it is so much more thrilling and exciting when it is with someone else. Especially when you have been with that person a fair amount of time and you know that they have the history and skills to bring you there but sometimes just choose to keep you just beneath the peak for pure torturous pleasure until you beg them to stop. Even when your begging it doesn't always have to end. If you have a strong partner who can keep his (or her) cool then asking for something and not getting it is almost as exhilarating sending you into a wild frenzy, just itching for that release. I also have never experienced 'The Big O' yet. Now many men have tried, but most I feel have failed in there quest to bring me that wave of heat and excitement. Disappointing as it is I know that I may be one of the many women of this wonderful planet that never ever get to feel what it is like. But then again a question I always ask my friends - How do you know? I may well have had one and never even known about it. The annoying thing about all of this is that if anyone was even close to getting me there it would have been Mr. Workaholic or Mr. Cheese both of which are slightly absent right now!
Frustrating as this all is I know that I cannot wholly become fixated on what happens between the sheets. Whilst sex is a fairly sizable part of my relationship with someone, I understand that it isn't for everyone. I need someone who I can have fun with. Something fresh and new, exciting and clean (or filthy). I want to feel giddy and woozy as well as the horn. Am I looking for Love or am I just looking for a good time? This is the question that has been battling me for several weeks now and I feel that now is the time to decide. A boyfriend is just scary and not a necessity I really can deal with right now. A relationship (of sorts) that can be loose and free within reason is something I am tempted by. It intrigues me and teases me with all the possibilities it entails. As time passes by and the longer the dry spell continues the less my 'Number' seems to matter to me. I mean, I could always lie about how many people have seen the downstairs. I remember someone telling me a rule of thumb once - Divide your 'Number' by three and then add one?! That brings me out to 3.33 recurring. How does that work?
Maybe I need to work backwards rather than forwards with this whole dating thing! Start with the sex and see if it leads anywhere good. And whilst I like the idea of a NSA (No Strings Attached) set up I know it would be unlikely to work for both parties. An NSA programme is good in theory but it can never work when you live somewhere like Bedford where men that are pleasing to the eye are scarce. Plus I think that in the long run it would make me unhappy stuck with someone who I will inevitably fall head over heels for only to realise they like the back of my head rather than the front. If I wanted just sex I would have found that weeks ago but I am not. So what the hell am I looking for? Maybe I am therefore looking for a friends with benefits thing. The two are very different as I have come to discover. Where NSA sex is very much what it says on the tin - wham bam thank you ma'am; a friends with benefits situation is much more pleasant I feel. A place whereby if left long enough and seeds planted a fruitful, loving, nurturing relationship could blossom. The thing that I probably enjoyed most about the first few months with Mr. Cheese was simply having the freedom to do as a single girl can whilst having someone to snuggle up with and go on dates to the local ice-cream parlour. I want the cuddles at night, the spooning, the curled up TV days and the giggles and play-fights that turn into lazy but mind-blowing weekend afternoon sex. Yes, that is where I want to be.
Naturally I invest too much in people. even in dates that are not dates. It was only just this last weekend I spoke to Miss Tweedle-Dumb of a few dates lined up in the coming weeks jokingly mentioning how Abbey *Insert Last Name* sounds blissfully better than the last few. And as my dear best friend looked at me oddly I secretly envisioned our entire wedding day together like something from a girlie Rom-Com! I seem to start making the omelette before I have even loaded up my egg basket never mind how much is in it. Always thinking far too much into stuff and not letting things go with the flow. As my father said to me the other day after nearly an hour of showing him how to use Tinder that I should slow down and stop hunting for something that will make itself known when it is ready. Pappa Bear explained that I should take a moment for myself and remember that although I am nearly twenty-three, my clock still has a lot of tick left in it. Throughout what he was saying I knew he was being truthful but it still didn't silence that little part of me that thinks that if I reach thirty and am not at least married then I will defiantly be eaten by Alsations by the time I reach thirty-two. He told me I should be young and free, making mistakes and cringingly laughing about them with friends over a bottle of wine or two. I think he was talking about Love, but it could well have been a moment of insanity in which I seem to indulge in - Alot!
And with this in mind I my thoughts immediately turn to a naughty little thing I did the other day. An UnDate - Basically Date that is not a Date or whereby one of the attendees does not acknowledge the alterer motives of such a meeting with said other party. Make sense? Probably not. But not too worry all will be revealed soon after my trip to Ireland but for the time being I can't spill too much, but all I can say is that I better get some oven mittens because I could quite well get burnt by this one ...
''Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 7 July 2014
The Vagina Crusade!
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
Heyy,
I don't know quite what I expected from life as a newly singleton. Lonely nights in front of the TV. Declining invites to events for fear of loved-up couples making me barff. Rekindling a love affair with my bedsheets, penguin pyjamas and re-run's of Attenborough whilst crying into tissues thinking about the times I used to spend cuddled up to what was after having great sex which is now impossible since I don't have a boyfriend! All things and many more sad traits I expected life in Loosersville to be like. Life has almost been quite the opposite I must say and I can only see it getting better as Summer rolls on. So roll on Thursday this week and pin a notice on your board of Abbey-Awesomeness because I have a date this week!
Impromptu nights out in rainy beer gardens, tank-top etiquette and waxing were all on my unplanned and spontaneous weekend agenda. It started with Friday night whereby after finishing early from work I decided to hit up the local off-licence for a bottle of rose wine and chocolate with the plan to spend the evening hoping work colleagues would invite me to the pub whilst watching yet another chick-flick only to end Friday night in either tears or women-empowerment. Neither of those happened. Instead after getting home to my flat, ignoring the washing up and cooking dinner I was questioned by my dear old friend Miss Chocolate why I was single. It suddenly dawned on me as I sat watching my social network conversation take a-hold that I hadn't spoken to her in over a month, and in that time things between Mr. Cheese and I had gone from butterflies to breadcrumbs (and not the posh kind you find in Waitrose). I thought that an explanation was due in person and so I donned some mascara and red lippy and headed to a pub down the road for some drinks and a natter.
Several hours later and in the small hours of Saturday morning I was returning from my unanticipated pub excursion however I failed to get into bed until gone 3am. Why? I was talking to a boy. Yes. A real one. Well I hope anyway. I shall not divulge any more as I don't want to ruin anything before it is even started but he is lovely and cute and sweet and funny and clever and fun and entertaining in every way I could wish for! We have been in contact for a few weeks now but still have yet to meet in person but I am sure that when we do there will be a tale to tell! Waking up Saturday I had high hopes for tackling that monstrosity in the kitchen sink, doing some banking and maybe even the shopping. Unfortunately that was all planned with the idealism that I would not wake at three in the afternoon. Yes, I had indeed slept for nearly twelve-hours. As I peered through bleary eyes I noticed through my notifications that Miss Tweedle-Dee had tried calling. Phoning her back we arranged for a girlie sleepover that evening. Wine, Cake and snack shall all be laid on with the accompaniment of a film to pass the time. However after recent events, Hollywood drama was replaced by the real life drama's of two girls in their early twenties discussing everything from stupid boys to new boys, surrogacy, marriage and even politics at one point! After swigging down a few bottles we decided to head out for a cigarette.
Entering the blackness of my quiet street in a Bedford suburb we heard nothing but a cat meowing and maybe the distant hum of a car engine. Laughing and giggling about our up coming Summer venture to Reading Festival 2014 we puffed away on menthol's in between getting deep in conversation about who will sleep with who in our luxurious tent. The from out of no where came a blood-curdling noise. Ripping through the night air like a beast. Looking up to the window that occupied the flat beneath mine we both took turns to peer round the wild hedgerow to seek out where the ghastly noise was coming from. Miss Tweedle-Dee looked concerned and asked if maybe the noise was a man nearing the finishing line. Silence was broken as I broke into laughter. I knew that my best friend was into girls, but was it really that long since she knew what a man experiencing orgasm sounded like. Watching her face crack too we laughed uneasily as the groans, grunts and heavy breathing continued. What was that? Was he choking? Dying even? Was my neighbour dying as my best friend and I guffawed about the male climax? No. It was fine we told ourselves, returning to my flat upstairs only to hope that the elderly gentleman had not cum and died within the space of our four-minute cigarette break. Current update is that all is well and good and only just this evening as I returned from a hard day at work I saw him trundle up the stairs with his trusted bottle of White Ace and a beard to match.
Sunday morning was a welcome surprise when I entered my living room to find Miss Tweedle-Dee already awake and scrolling through her Tumblr, a usual morning ritual for her. After discussing plans for the day we decided to head into the town centre for some procrastination and bargain hunting, but not before wandering round a shit car boot on the way. Same old things sold at boot-sales isn't it; Old baby clothes and dodgy ornaments even your Nan wouldn't tolerate! After some deep and meaningful conversing over breakfast and oddly cake and ice-cream at just gone 11am we took a stroll round some shops and picked up some stuff I was looking for to spruce up my flat. I am thinking shabby chic. I suppose you could call it Sh-Abbey Chic! Sunday afternoon ended with both us girls lounging on the couch watching VegTV (AKA only the kind of TV you watch when your Hungover, Tired or just plain simple) following some serious shopping. Then came a wonderful idea to wax however I declined for fear that my double-chin, whilst not hairy in the slightest, would not only be ripped off by molten lava but that dearest Miss Tweedle-Dee would put me on YouTube for all to see and for entertaining herself greatly.
Waving goodbye to Miss Tweedle-Dee a few hours later, double-chin still fully intact, I pottered around my flat for what I had left of the weekend, chatting in between to my new found male friend! You see part of me still wonders, and I know its silly, weather I am the problem in all this? Am I the one who actually has something wrong with them? Is that why this is happening? And then I think 'No'! I am a wonderful human being who whilst only being established in 1991 has experienced more than most and has impacted on many peoples lives for the greater good! I make people weep and wheeze with laughter until they can't take no more. I bring a brightness and colourfulness to the people around like a sun to a Winter's day. I hope that one day I can be someones sunshine. There very existence and being. And whilst every day a little voice inside my head reminds me of all that is wrong with my love life, the arrogance of me speaks out louder, telling me of how beautiful I am of a person, my witty banter, my laugh and my personality that shines through, even when my confidence fails. Men of my past, you may have bruised me, but I am coming back bigger and better than before! Female empowerment level: 100!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Heyy,
I don't know quite what I expected from life as a newly singleton. Lonely nights in front of the TV. Declining invites to events for fear of loved-up couples making me barff. Rekindling a love affair with my bedsheets, penguin pyjamas and re-run's of Attenborough whilst crying into tissues thinking about the times I used to spend cuddled up to what was after having great sex which is now impossible since I don't have a boyfriend! All things and many more sad traits I expected life in Loosersville to be like. Life has almost been quite the opposite I must say and I can only see it getting better as Summer rolls on. So roll on Thursday this week and pin a notice on your board of Abbey-Awesomeness because I have a date this week!
Impromptu nights out in rainy beer gardens, tank-top etiquette and waxing were all on my unplanned and spontaneous weekend agenda. It started with Friday night whereby after finishing early from work I decided to hit up the local off-licence for a bottle of rose wine and chocolate with the plan to spend the evening hoping work colleagues would invite me to the pub whilst watching yet another chick-flick only to end Friday night in either tears or women-empowerment. Neither of those happened. Instead after getting home to my flat, ignoring the washing up and cooking dinner I was questioned by my dear old friend Miss Chocolate why I was single. It suddenly dawned on me as I sat watching my social network conversation take a-hold that I hadn't spoken to her in over a month, and in that time things between Mr. Cheese and I had gone from butterflies to breadcrumbs (and not the posh kind you find in Waitrose). I thought that an explanation was due in person and so I donned some mascara and red lippy and headed to a pub down the road for some drinks and a natter.
Several hours later and in the small hours of Saturday morning I was returning from my unanticipated pub excursion however I failed to get into bed until gone 3am. Why? I was talking to a boy. Yes. A real one. Well I hope anyway. I shall not divulge any more as I don't want to ruin anything before it is even started but he is lovely and cute and sweet and funny and clever and fun and entertaining in every way I could wish for! We have been in contact for a few weeks now but still have yet to meet in person but I am sure that when we do there will be a tale to tell! Waking up Saturday I had high hopes for tackling that monstrosity in the kitchen sink, doing some banking and maybe even the shopping. Unfortunately that was all planned with the idealism that I would not wake at three in the afternoon. Yes, I had indeed slept for nearly twelve-hours. As I peered through bleary eyes I noticed through my notifications that Miss Tweedle-Dee had tried calling. Phoning her back we arranged for a girlie sleepover that evening. Wine, Cake and snack shall all be laid on with the accompaniment of a film to pass the time. However after recent events, Hollywood drama was replaced by the real life drama's of two girls in their early twenties discussing everything from stupid boys to new boys, surrogacy, marriage and even politics at one point! After swigging down a few bottles we decided to head out for a cigarette.
Entering the blackness of my quiet street in a Bedford suburb we heard nothing but a cat meowing and maybe the distant hum of a car engine. Laughing and giggling about our up coming Summer venture to Reading Festival 2014 we puffed away on menthol's in between getting deep in conversation about who will sleep with who in our luxurious tent. The from out of no where came a blood-curdling noise. Ripping through the night air like a beast. Looking up to the window that occupied the flat beneath mine we both took turns to peer round the wild hedgerow to seek out where the ghastly noise was coming from. Miss Tweedle-Dee looked concerned and asked if maybe the noise was a man nearing the finishing line. Silence was broken as I broke into laughter. I knew that my best friend was into girls, but was it really that long since she knew what a man experiencing orgasm sounded like. Watching her face crack too we laughed uneasily as the groans, grunts and heavy breathing continued. What was that? Was he choking? Dying even? Was my neighbour dying as my best friend and I guffawed about the male climax? No. It was fine we told ourselves, returning to my flat upstairs only to hope that the elderly gentleman had not cum and died within the space of our four-minute cigarette break. Current update is that all is well and good and only just this evening as I returned from a hard day at work I saw him trundle up the stairs with his trusted bottle of White Ace and a beard to match.
Sunday morning was a welcome surprise when I entered my living room to find Miss Tweedle-Dee already awake and scrolling through her Tumblr, a usual morning ritual for her. After discussing plans for the day we decided to head into the town centre for some procrastination and bargain hunting, but not before wandering round a shit car boot on the way. Same old things sold at boot-sales isn't it; Old baby clothes and dodgy ornaments even your Nan wouldn't tolerate! After some deep and meaningful conversing over breakfast and oddly cake and ice-cream at just gone 11am we took a stroll round some shops and picked up some stuff I was looking for to spruce up my flat. I am thinking shabby chic. I suppose you could call it Sh-Abbey Chic! Sunday afternoon ended with both us girls lounging on the couch watching VegTV (AKA only the kind of TV you watch when your Hungover, Tired or just plain simple) following some serious shopping. Then came a wonderful idea to wax however I declined for fear that my double-chin, whilst not hairy in the slightest, would not only be ripped off by molten lava but that dearest Miss Tweedle-Dee would put me on YouTube for all to see and for entertaining herself greatly.
Waving goodbye to Miss Tweedle-Dee a few hours later, double-chin still fully intact, I pottered around my flat for what I had left of the weekend, chatting in between to my new found male friend! You see part of me still wonders, and I know its silly, weather I am the problem in all this? Am I the one who actually has something wrong with them? Is that why this is happening? And then I think 'No'! I am a wonderful human being who whilst only being established in 1991 has experienced more than most and has impacted on many peoples lives for the greater good! I make people weep and wheeze with laughter until they can't take no more. I bring a brightness and colourfulness to the people around like a sun to a Winter's day. I hope that one day I can be someones sunshine. There very existence and being. And whilst every day a little voice inside my head reminds me of all that is wrong with my love life, the arrogance of me speaks out louder, telling me of how beautiful I am of a person, my witty banter, my laugh and my personality that shines through, even when my confidence fails. Men of my past, you may have bruised me, but I am coming back bigger and better than before! Female empowerment level: 100!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)