Beer is made by men, wine is made by God!

Hello Dears!

Following last weeks critical and only slightly harsh take on life living with the male species, things have taken a turn for the better, and no, I have not won the lottery. Do you honestly think I would still be writing to you now if I was a millionairess? Pfft, I would be off drinking peachy champagne cocktails and hanging out with Cara Delevingne and trying to tell Evan Peters for the last time I am already taken - But meet me in the disabled loo's in five and I'll show him a real Freak Show!

Anyways I have not hit the big time, but the weather this weekend in the majority of the UK was like being in the Bahamas. So after heading to the doctors in the morning I had arrived back to the flat, changed into some shorts and headed out with Mr. Warehouse and the dog for an long walk in the afternoon sun. After walking near to ten miles to a local nature reserve and back again, puppy in toe exhausted as us from playing in the lake with all the other dogs I was well in need of a comfy Saturday night in front of the telly. With Sunday roast an absolute knock out of the park with everything home-made right down to the Yorkshire Puds and gravy I was well and truly done for the weekend. 

With all of that excitement though I was busy at work when I started to get some very strange emails from Mr. Warehouse. "I can't believe I am doing this" was the first email, next came "Can you bring me a pen and piece of paper when you meet me for lunch" and when I asked what was going on all I got in reply was "I'm outside come and meet me". Scared for what might happen in the next few moments and fearing the worst I made my way from my desk, down stairs and into the canteen where a smug-faced Mr. Warehouse was stood waiting for me. Upon opening up his bag as instructed I pulled out a piece of paper folded neatly and read through the black and white writing and occasional lemon-yellow highlighter pen. It read:
"I can now confirm that we would like to offer you a contract with the Brewery and look forward to seeing you on Monday for your first day with us"

Overjoyed and so proud of my little Pooh Bear I ran over to my beloved boyfriend and gave him a big congratulatory hug and a big kiss. Finally this was the start of something new for us. No more low wages desperately trying to make ends meet for his bills and financial obligations. No more lengthy planning for birthdays and Christmases and holidays. No more horrible shift patterns. Finally life could slot into a more harmonious order for Mr. Warehouse and I. 

Thinking back to last week, and the conversations that followed the uploading of said post, maybe now he can grown more confident within himself. Saying up-yours to his shitty co-workers he has had to deal with the past six years and choosing who he spends his time with will be a blessing. Its time for my Mr. Warehouse to branch out into the big wide world, making new friends and learning new skills. Confidence and being a newbie in the workplace always brings about new friendships and hopefully this will be the time Mr. Warehouse can make some new and more solid friendships outside of me and his family. I can already see him and his new work mates pratting around in the pub or having banter about the footy from the weekend on a Monday morning. We could finally have our own lives whereby he goes out after work with the lads and I wouldn't have to feel so guilty about spending the night in with the girls. 

Yes, I acknowledge that this may not be perfect in the long run as the new job for him will still be shift work but it will also mean more time for us as a little team. With a little more money coming in he won't have to worry about things he is constantly fretting about financially and can relax, maybe even taking a holiday later on in the year. 
I am so very, very proud of my wonderful boyfriend for making such a couragous step and leaving a company he joined when he was just a teenager and the fact that he has done this not for me, or the dog or anyone - But for himself. Besides he can still pop into see me and all his old work colleagues (most of them family mind) if he so wished and we would still be inviting him on the habitual night-outs.Speaking of which ... Whose up for a leaving do!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Rediscovery Of A Broken Fairytale ...

Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx

Evening to you, 

Throughout this journey I lost myself but in the space of a few days since last week and with a few tiny changes I am beginning to find myself again. Happy and content. Young and free. After downloading a few apps and being invited out on a work's night out I felt a little piece of me return every morning I opened my eyes. I anticipated that the work's 'do' would just be some quiet drinks down a local bar in the Town Centre, little did I know how much of an impact I could have. Even as I walked into the office this morning I was inundated with questions about who I left the bar with and what happened when I got home in the early hours of Saturday morning. Yes, everyone in the office seems to have me on their lips! But nothing happened as I was not in search of a lay that night, but simply the knowledge that I am not wholly repugnant and distasteful to all of the male population! I think I succeeded. 

Deciding that that my confidence needed boosting after recent events I donned a floaty skirt and heels to join my office bod's for a night on the tiles. And boy was it! Not having been out since Halloween last year (dressed as a Little Dead Riding Hood no less) I figured that I would go easy. That was until I joined those pesky lads from the warehouse downstairs from my office! Cute but not quite my type we began the evenings debauchery by knocking back an old favourite of mine - Sambuca shots! After perching myself on a bar stool, skirt billowing over my smooth legs, the conversation progressed fast and soon the boys and I were discussing sexual habits like how to go down on a girl, porn, bedroom activities and chat-up lines. The cheesiest of lines were put upon me Friday night and in all honesty I was outwardly and outrageously flirting, but with all this male attention and after recent events of the male variety, who could blame me ... 

---

Stairs. Something about them isn't there that is slightly foreboding. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always foreboding. And so as I stood at the bottom of a narrow, brown stairwell in the centre of The Big Smoke I wondered how I would feel coming down them in a few hours time. The anticipation was killing me. I wanted to step onto them but I just couldn't. All around me I must have looked like an idiot just stood there having a face-off with some simple steps. Part of me wanted to climb - Climb up there to a better life in the clouds from one down here. But the reality in my heart told me that what I could face could be down yet another very dark and lonely staircase. Breaking through the barrier of my bodies unwillingness to make the first steps, and pulling my thoughts together I finally made my ascend. Stomach flipping and body beginning to shake I told myself to stay calm and collected. Reaching the last step my shoe slipped off. Like a child I saw it as an omen from a fairytale, but alas there was to be no Prince Charming to make me Happily Ever After. I knew how this story ends, I had read it before. I had to be the knight in shining armour and save myself from tragedy yet again. 

After speaking to the waiter I was being escorted to my table where my dinner date was already seated. Winding through tables and past massive gaping windows looking out to the city beneath me I knew in my heart that this was it. Once seated and reintroduced to my company for the evening I took charge immediately of the situation in hand for failure of being made a fool which was at this point inevitable. Not saying a word to my date and disregarding everything I ordered a bottle of the rose. A scene played out in my head that at some point this evening I would rise from the table and scream "Champagne! Champagne for everyone" and the whole restaurant would too join me in a celebration. This was to stay as a fantasy for this evening was one of a melancholy mood. Ordering from a menu I had been scanning all week not knowing if I would even attend this event I made a choice and stuck by it, something that is rare in my world. Making idle small talk we danced around the real reasons we were both in the beautiful surroundings of Covent Garden. Staring into my dates eyes, bright and shiny as they had ever been I wondered which one of us would bring up the question. It had taken a while to get that moment but soon enough it was upon us. With the staff being overtly attentive and the beating evening sun glaring down on us as glanced at our surroundings on the terraced restaurant in the West End of London, I knew it would be me to break the ice once more. Becoming agitated by the lack of urgency in the debate I started. Mr. Cheese in the dock first please!

"So ... As beautiful as a surrounding this all is and as wonderful as to the views; Why are we here?" I beckoned. Heart breaking, I knew the answer before I had even asked the question. A solemn look had replaced an otherwise forced smile and so the evening commenced. Conversation spilling we yet again trudged the same old muddy ground covered like so many times before and one that I refused to put myself through any more. I had enough of going round in circles. It wasn't fun any more. But then again was it ever fun in comparison to the happiness experienced? The lack of passion and fight and energy all lost to somewhere I could not find any more. I was with a man who had no want to carry on trying. Mr. Cheese had lied to me, promising that everything would get better and that he too like me wanted to make it work. Yet again the promise along with a piece of my heart was shattered. I couldn't believe that given the opportunity to make things better and faced with loosing me all together that my boyfriend failed to take such simple steps to make it better. Affection. That's all I wanted. Not just an increase in sex drive on his part but more of the little things. Flowers, presents, cuddles, kisses and anything lovely. I want to be kissed in the pouring rain and surprised at work with a visitor. I want to be swept off my feet and feel butterflies in my belly. I want to have a smile on my face seeing his caller ID and to know that I am the only one my boyfriend needs; Maybe not forever but just to live and feel right in the moment with him. I don't think it is something that I should have to even think about asking from someone that says they love you. But even that I am failing to believe any more. 

During this past year, as most of you know, I have experienced everything a human being could ever experience. From the highest highs to the lowest lows. I was tired and exhausted. Unloved and unappreciated. I wanted to get off this ride now. I wanted to go home. As sad as it was I knew that this was the best thing for us. Things were so easy in the beginning. And then I fell. I fell before him and didn't stop until I hit the ground. Hard. I hated how I fell in love with him. His smile. His eyes. His kooky little ways. I hate how I fell for him and despite everything, he never truly fell for me. I wanted to believe anything other than what Mr. Cheese was telling me over that dinner table in London on Wednesday. Anything. I thought up scenario's of him not being happy and wanting to call Ghana off just to make things better between us. Of being gay - which wouldn't have been the first time something has happened like that. Or worst, cheating on me with someone who is much prettier and slimmer and hotter than me, which in all honesty with the way I had felt of late, would not be entirely untrue. But no, none of those things happened. It was simply the end. 

And so this concludes the chapter. A tale of wrong bridges and of falling in love. A story I hoped might never end no matter how much I told myself it would. Maybe somewhere beyond Ghana we can rekindle our infatuation with each other, making sure that we spend the time to nurture what we have together. After all, we did have a love story to rival Disney. But alas, the story of Cheese and I must come to an end, at least for now ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Torn Between the Devil and The Deep Blue Sea

Evening everyone, 

So last week I spoke of my tales of old in which I relived some memories from college, not all of them lovely ones mind? But I hope you enjoyed them as much as I did writing them. Its nice to see sometime how much you have grown up since then, even if it was only a few years ago. This week has been a ball breaker at work, slogging it out trying to catch as much money as possible before the year end and what with loosing a couple of weeks in December already down to Christmas and New Years you can imagine how manic everyone offices are. Nevertheless I know you all well enough by now to know that you don't tune in every week to hear about how spiffing my job in finance is. You wanna know about the sex, scandal and slip-ups and I don't blame you.

Now after our conversation a few weeks ago with Mr. Cheese and I, I felt comfortable about my place within our 'relationship-that's-not-a-relationship' and was confident about the direction my life was taking. Although I have felt as though life in general has become a bit humdrum since I'm not partying as much due to the colder climate and as a result becoming a bit of a boring arse! So knowing fully my position in life I decided to go on another adventure and back to a time before Cheese and Butterfly bridges. I have reinvented myself and popped myself back on the shelf again like an adorable fluffy teddy-bear. Although this time I don't know how I entirely feel about being on the market again for the second time this year; Especially when I feel someone else has already invested a fair bit into me.

On the one hand I feel like life is lagging a bit of late and for someone whom only just this time last year was embarking on their first taste of the dating world after being out of the game for so long I can hardly blame myself for wanting more. I'm young and need to act as such. I hate the fact that when I get in a relationship I turn into a little timid housewife from 1954 whereby I do all the stuff a lady should do and answer to every man's want, need, wish and desire. Now don't get me wrong a part of me loves being that person in a relationship but lets be honest I will have my whole life (once married and trapped) to make my husband feel that regal and empowered. Right now I need to find myself more than I have already and have fun not worrying about what lies beyond the following year. I need to party and enjoy life because before long I will have children tugging at my ankles and a sex-deprived caveman whom deserves all the praise in the world for putting up with an accident-prone bimbo like me. Its nothing to do with Mr. Cheese at all, I just feel that I should take advantage of the opportunities now so I don't regret anything when I'm cleaning dried baby-milk-puke off my new blouse. 

After posting up some new pictures and trawling through all those frogs, Ive found a few good looking fellas and already have several dates lined up for the rest of the year and even a few into next. One gentleman I have made acquaintances with has already booked me for next Sunday afternoon/evening and we are going Rock-Climbing. Now I know my profile says ''think outside the box'' when it comes to going on a date but I must admit I was a little taken aback and surprised when I was told we would be getting to know each other when my derrière will be scaling a Faux Everest. Nevertheless, with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's persuasion I have obliged and this time next week I can assure you I will have another embarrassing narrative for you all. Another male I met was a rather forward chap from Northamptonshire which already had set alarm-bells ringing since I used to co-habit there with Mr. Workaholic. He suggested a movie night, snuggled up. Sounds blissful until you realise that he only has a telly in his room, has no sofa - just a bed and he like to spoon. No problems with any of those things, but for a first date. Maybe not. 

I am sure though that whilst I have the free-range to do anything as and when I please with who I please (or pleases me as the case may be) that I shall make full use of it. But on the other hand I feel that maybe it would be nice to settle down and have some stability for once. Next April it will have been two-years since Mr. Workaholic left and I am glad to say that I feel that if I wanted it that bad that I could deal with a relationship. Mr. Cheese is a wonderful person. So kind and caring; considerate and thoughtful. Heck he even turned up at mine on Saturday afternoon with a bunch of Christmas flowers. The reason? Simply answered with a smile and a "Just because". He likes me and I like him. When we lye together and laugh about all the silly things in life like call-centre's and peoples names I realise that I might already be searching for something that could be right under my snozzer! But this then poses a big question. One that my dear friend's Miss Tatts and Miss Chocolate asked me in detail over coffee on a catch-up in London this weekend. She asked me to answer it truthfully. "Is he 'The One?" 

What a monumental question that is. The over-bearing question could only be answered honestly and for a girl who thought she had fallen in love with a guy she wasn't even exclusively in a relationship with it was hard. Mr. Cheese and I have only been seeing each other for five months, and that sort of question is almost unanswerable at this stage. I do care for Mr. Cheese alot. A hell of alot. But whether he will be 'The One' who I see my fairytale life with is still questionable. I mean I'm not going to lie. I have thought about it. Maybe every time I pass a wedding shop, be it with or without him the idea catapults into my mind. But unlike all the other times I push them aside, accepting that it may not be that face that I see when my veil finally goes up. As time has gone by over the past few months I have thought about all manner of things, not just weddings. I have thought about the before's and after's. The living together and moving in, the family life and raising of children. But all of it is trivial because I know it may well not be with Mr. Cheese. Its nice to think about it, but reality has taught me in the past and if I have ever learnt anything from Mr. Workaholic it was to never trust anyone with your hopes and dreams because you may have thought that you have found everything you have ever been looking for, but you may not be what they have been looking for ...

All in all Mr. Cheese is a fantastic guy and I do honestly mean it from the bottom of my heart that I can see myself spending many an afternoon frolicking in each others company bumbling along from months, maybe even years to come. But do I want that? Because lets be honest we are all guilty of hurrying things along once they are official. After two people meet its "So when are you two going to hook up?" After that its the dilemma of "When are you two going to move in together?" Then its the proposal, marriage, kids, house, dog, schools, cars and who is included on the joint Christmas list. Whereas I enjoy partying and having a cheeky kiss and a dance with randomer's I don't know the names of, whenever I am exhausted, lying on those tee-pee moobs playing with the chest wig, I can imagine it being anyone else I would want to be with. The one and only. Mr. Cheese. But I like things as they are; Freedom if and when I want it but with the knowledge that in the background, something beautiful is growing.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Week In Paradise With The Tweedles

Afternoon guys, 

So, last time we spoke I was on my balcony looking out towards the beach and anticipating the next seven days with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee. And what an amazing way to spend those seven days. Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I have not spent a single day away from the beach and have indulged in some of our favourite holiday activities including getting so tanned we look like locals and the girls dragging me out to sea so far I can't touch the floor and freak out. 

Miss Tweedle-Dee has now got an arm the size of Jupiter as she has been bitten by Mosquito's so much and as a result has an arm the would resemble something from the plague. I however have not been cursed and for some odd reason the Mozzies prefer her blood, which I'm not complaining at. In fact one evening just before I tucked Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee in bed they alerted me to a speck on our ceiling which was indeed a Mosquito. Without a seconds thought and wanting to protect my friends from the blood-thirsty fiend I took a magazine, jumped on the bed and whacked him so hard I nearly went flying. After finding my balance again I realised that there was screams and laughter erupting from where the girls lay. Looking up to the ceiling I found out why. I had hit the poor insect so hard he had exploded a beautiful blood splat right in his place. Worried that our cleaner may notice I explained how it wasn't noticeable, although we all new it was there for the remainder of our holiday. 

Along with the odd insect murder on our hands we also lived out some childhood dreams. As Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I have known each other for years we knew what sort of upbringings we have had, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I especially. So on the first day we bought a Lilo each and never looked back. We rode the waves and even attempted to surf on the inflatables, that is until Miss Tweedle-Dumb's died of deflation. All three of us turned into kids for the majority of the week often having more than one ice-cream a day and sometimes even for brunch! We got on a Pedalo and rode out to see and even went on a boat trip which was lots if fun. 

Playing a game of 'Inuendo Bingo' also provided a source of entertainment when Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I sat down with a mouth full of water and waiting to see who would crumble first at the sound of something funny from Miss Tweedle-Dee's holiday read. Lets just say that we both got very, very wet. Thankfully though no arguments apart from something trivial which ended up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb throwing water at me, I squirted sun cream at her and before we knew it we had coated the whole apartment in sun lotion and water which made for a very slippery surface as Miss Tweedle-Dumb found out. Attempting to chase me into the bedroom to get me with the water she slipped on the creamy floor and fell right onto her bottom. Definately the top highlight of my holiday. 

There was some serious stuff too. I have had a lot to think about and have come to the conclusion that whilst I love Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee, as well as my family and other friends; I am ready for a change in scenery. I have thought for a long time about moving away and maybe spending a few months living somewhere different. Dublin, Ireland maybe or somewhere closer like Cardiff, Wales. I want to do it over this coming Winter, maybe October 'til March next year - Just some time to find myself and gain some experience of the world. Wherever I go though I am sure I shall have some tales to tell. And who knows I may even find 'The One'.

Speaking of which I have been thinking about the scary world that is dating for a while now and I think it's about time to get back out there. So after a year of being single after the train-wreck that was my last relationship I am finally ready to meet someone new - And Miss Tweedle-Dee is too! As soon as we get back from sunny Majorca I plan on looking into speed dating for Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Chocolate and I. We all need to find our Prince Charming and he won't come looking for us, despite how much we want him to arrive at our workplace one day on a white steed carrying a large bouquet of flowers and a box of fine chocolates. I am positive that Mr. Right is out there for me and all my friends, they just need hunting down and capturing. 

And so we come to the end of another week, this time it was in the sun. Sadly though our flight back home to a drizzly Blighty is tonight. Speaking of which I best go and find Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee. I left them outside to catch some rays again. I hope they haven't been cremated ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Termination And A Flirtation ...

Hi,

Following a roller coaster of a weekend last week with Miss Chocolate things have slowed down a bit, almost to a halt. This past week I have been thinking 'Isnt it funny how things turn out sometimes?' - You put so much of your time and energy into working and then realise that its all in vain, particularly when it comes to the termination of employment. Weather it be on good terms or not, the feelings are still the same and ones that I am familiar with, but strangely not as much this time around. If you haven't already cottoned on to what I'm trying to say then I shall explain how I have become newly unemployed.

After a few months working in the offices of a flooring company and weeks of knowing that I will probably not be continuing my career there I am finally out of the job. The explanation was simple. The last lady that worked there had done so for more than fifteen years and was at the top of her game before leaving just before Christmas last year. I was to replace her and with that my employers presumed that I would quickly be able to match her standards of working, which obviously is impossible in such a short amount of time. Like I said it was a long time coming and so don't feel completely awful about the situation as I have had some time to prepare for it. The two office staff that I work with explained that it wasn't anything personal and that they would be more than happy to give me a good reference. I knew that they were being honest as we all got along very well; I just think that maybe they had underestimated the job and its duties. Regardless, its not the end of the world. I finish there officially yesterday but am choosing to keep working for another fortnight to get some extra cash for my holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in just over a month's time.

Speaking of Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, we have patched things up and are learning that we are all different and think differently too. We met last Wednesday at a local pub after I briefly hosted them in last weeks post. There were tears and laughter but essentially we sorted it all out and after which we started discussing our up and coming holiday to Mallorca, Spain in a few weeks time. The night was wearing to the end and graciously Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me a ride to the station. I obliged and we walked to the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tipsily singing our way down the street. However what we found when we located the small blue car was like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. flashing lights, the rev of car engines and youths stood around watching the Hundreds of cars parade up and down the car-park. My dear friend had only parked where a car rally was due to be hosted that night. Probably drawn up on some social networking site and with lost of scary noises and faces about we tried to search for the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggling to keep our giggling under control. 'Call the police' I thought, whilst we bundled into the small vehicle, an idea that both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb agreed with. My reasoning not to call them was that there was not trouble and we would be safe. In fact I had noticed a few faces I had attended high school with some years ago. After what seemed like an eternity we were finally let out of our small parking spaced and allowed to go on our way, but not with some heavy persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to make Miss Tweedle-Dumb drive round the car park and join in with the hooded youngsters. As we sped away the sounds of banging exhausts and bouncing bass faded into the distance along with the city noises that I was already familiar with.

As a matter of fact I have just come back from an evening spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and a rather amorous friend of theirs. An impromptu trip to a nearby house-ware shop was this evening s entertainment, followed up by a side helping of guilt and awkwardness. So after I had told them both of the recent job situation, they had invited themselves round and said that later we would hit the pub for a few. Subsequently a few hours into my work day I get a phone call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb asking if I would prefer to hit the shops instead. And, as a red-blooded female whose just been paid of course I'm not going to turn down a bit of retail therapy, even if I don't buy anything. A work colleague of Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's, Miss Lace, tagged along for the ride too. Now, my 'relationship' with Miss Lace is slightly awkward I feel. Ever since we met on a cold, blustery night in November ready to watch the fireworks back home, I have always felt something that's not quiet right between us. Its not because we didn't hit it off or didn't get on well, in fact I feel that's its quiet the opposite.

What with it being the first time I had met Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work friends (Miss Lace included) I tried to make an effort to impress and make them comfortable in my presence. But something was different between Miss Lace and I. I didn't mention this to the girls and kept it to myself, thinking that I was just being silly, but in late December I confessed what I thought might be true. "Now, I don't want to blow my ow trumpet" I started once the conversation had been brought up. ''But I think that maybe she fancies me?!'' I couldn't quite believe I had just said that. It sounded so egotistical and pig-headed of me. I instantly brushed it off but ever since I have never been able to tell weather Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's jokes about Miss Lace and I are just that, jokes, or are they more with some sort of cryptic clues behind them. I mean, I'm all up for a laugh and a joke, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings,especially if what I think and what I'm being told is true and that Miss Lace does have a 'thing' for me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm only into men and I don't share the same feelings that Miss Lace may or may not have for me. I know that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb like to make little quips and have fun, but sometimes it goes too far. What makes it worse is that I don't really know Miss Lace that well and as a result don't know her sense of humour so going along with the rest of the gang may not be in such good taste. Naturally I am a flirtatious and friendly person, wanting to include everyone in everything and let them in with open arms but I feel myself clamming up whenever I am around Miss Lace for fear of leading her along or making her think that there is something blossoming when there really isn't. To be honest it is somewhat stressful not knowing how to deal with a situation that could or could not be.

If Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work colleague does have a soft-spot for me then I am flattered but at the same time have the uneasy conversation of not receipting those feelings and apologising for a possible false pretence - Something I don't really want to do. Regardless, I am sure its all a joke and it will work out better in the end. It always does ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx

A Story I Have Wanted To Shared For A While ...

Hi Guys,
 
What a week it has been. So, after last weekend Bank Holiday antics I have recovered quiet nicely thank you, although the fact that my ex-boyfriend otherwise known as Mr. Workaholic keeps plaguing my thoughts. I mean seriously. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I suppose it all started with a weird dream I had about a week ago including him and Miss Tweedle-Dee, but strangely no Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Unable to wake from such nightmarish slumber I was forced to relive the last scenes of our relationship in dream-state, full-blown hysterics included. But since then Mr. Workaholic seems not to have left and is there in my mind, constantly reminding me of the good times. I'm glad my conscience takes over and reminds me of the bad times though. But amongst the raging battle inside my head I try to reason with myself. Yes Mr. Workaholic was a brilliant lover, the best maybe, indulging in all manner of fantasy and wild exploits - but you have to remember that this was also the same person that left you screaming and begging in absolute turmoil as he drove away, leaving you in the home you used to share. Upon this boiling pot of emotion and memories I am able to pluck out a good tale for you all. Now I warn you it is a tad odd, especially for a man just out of a long-term relationship, but rest assured it is truth and is something I would like to share with you all, something I have wanted to pollute your minds with for a while ...
 
It was a warm summer morning when I stepped off the plane from Dublin after visiting family in Southern Ireland following the split. I had a lot of time to think it out and come to the conclusion that this was it. Since everyone I knew was working I had no-one to pick me up from the airport and take me home. All but one. I had no choice but to call Mr. Workaholic and ask him to help. Of course he obliged and picked me up, probably out of guilt that he had caused this all but regardless when I saw his girlie white car pull up to where I was standing outside the terminal I couldn't help but think that things might just go back to normal and we could make it work. After what I was about to hear nothing could be further from that statement. I attempted making small talk and avoiding eye contact with him for a good few miles down the motorway until Mr. Workaholic asked how my trip had been. I replied honestly and described it as one of the worst experiences of my life, working out how I was going to function without him. I was courteous though and returned the question, feeling anxious and not wanting to talk about myself for once. Starting normally, Mr. Workaholic stated that he had gone away for a few days to clear his head and visit his sister in the North-East of England. Watching the world whizz by on the M1 and struggling not to throw up in his presence, Mr. Workaholic told me he had gone out and had a few too many drinks. But my heart nearly stopped when he told me that he had hooked-up with someone. As Mr. Workaholic began the gut-wrenching tale I felt myself crumble inside, the car spinning and my head once clear now drowning, flooded with pictures and thoughts. He asked me if he should continue or if I needed fresh air. Stupidly or not I decided that I needed to hear this and that it would do me good, maybe even help me to move on. And so he resumed.
 
After some heavy pre-drinking at their hotel to lift Mr. Workaholic's mood (As if his mood needed lifting any further up his arse), his sister and their cousin went to a club and were continuing to drink when a young man came over and struck up a friendly conversation. As the night wore on, Mr. Workaholic needed the loo and so left in search of the 'little boys room'. Once there he relived himself and turned to leave, however, so intoxicated was my Ex that he was approached by another male whom started sizing him up. Now for any normal person you would think this wasn't unusual - You know, two men squaring up in the bathroom alcohol, women, ego's and possibly drugs involved it could get messy. But oh-no, this wasn't any old bathroom. This was a bathroom situated in a busy part of the city centres Soho district. A place where Mr. Workaholic wouldn't usually attend. His sister and cousin are both Homosexual's and Mr. Workaholic was in a bathroom of a very busy and well-known gay nightclub. Swaying from side to side, Mr. Workaholic was offered oral sex by the stranger he had bumped into. Mr. Workaholic accepted. The strange man got onto his knees, unzipped my Ex's jeans and placed him into his mouth.
 
As we flew past a service station Mr. Workaholic recoils as he remembers how the stranger's bristly beard brushed his private parts whilst his member continued to stay soft. "Your not getting hard, are you not turned on?" the knelt man asked looking up holding the still limp extension. Not saying a word Mr. Workaholic adjusted himself and walked away, leaving his dignity and his self-respect behind. A few hours later after kissing a few women, and men, Mr. Workaholic was drinking at an empty table whilst his sister and their cousin hit the dance floor. Another young man approached the lone Mr. Workaholic and asked if they could be friends. Being naive he befriended the party goer and before long more alcohol was consumed and a seedy friendship formed. By this point apparently a fight had broken out between his cousin, his sister, his sister's girlfriend and her girlfriend's ex-partner back at the hotel. Shattered, Mr. Workaholic took the invitation from his new found 'friend' to spend the night before heading back to the hotel in the morning when everything had calmed down. And so as the sun rose over Northumberland, Mr. Workaholic left, to a flat in a part of the city he didn't know, with a man he had only just met. Classy. Upon arriving at his 'friends' address, my Ex was encouraged to undress and share his bed. Consumed by fatigue and intoxicated as he was it happened and before long Mr. Workaholic was fast asleep.
 
Pulling off the motorway I was hoping that one day, Mr. Workaholic would get a rude awakening for the way he treated me. Little did I know that the story was not yet finished. Moments after slipping into a deep sleep, Mr. Workaholic was roused in a way many females are accustom too. Only this was a man. A 'friend'. And this 'friend' was now poking Mr. Workaholic in the lower back with something hard and moist. Realising what this was, my Ex, not being freaked out or disgusted at all simply rolled over and said to his 'friend' that he was not gay and did not want to have sex with him. Reluctantly the 'friend' stopped pursuing Mr. Workaholic and shortly they were both asleep again like nothing ever happened. But it wasn't long before long though that there was a loud knock on the door of the apartment, although no-one heard until it was too late. Suddenly the bedroom door flew open, and with this Mr. Workaholic jumped out of bed, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. "What the fuck are you doing in bed with my boyfriend!" Shouted the large, muscular man fizzing with anger at the rumpled sheets and a nearly naked man accompanying his partner in bed. The frightened boy that was the love of my life ran to the bathroom and locked the door. As Mr. Workaholic's hangover crept in, he searched the bathroom for a way out, but all in vain. Spotting some cash on the sink and grabbing his clothes Mr. Workaholic made a dash for the door, using the stolen cash to pay for a cab back to the hotel.
 
As we arrived at the beautiful terraced house we used to share he asked how I was. What could I say? For once I was speechless, only able to mutter something about how disgusted I was and how sick he makes me feel. For some odd moment I started to laugh. Almost uncontrollably. Crying tears of amusement, grief and shame. Pulling myself together I got out of the car, only to see a large green and yellow 'TO LET' sign next to our once happy home. I stood there. Shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked quietly. "I didn't want to upset you." was the pitiful response from Mr. Workaholic.  Unlocking the door and walking into the house I barely recognised it. Mr. Workaholic continued to explain that his cousin whose girlfriend was pregnant at the time was moving into a new home and needed some stuff so he had sold it to him. Our sofa, stuffed with memories watching TV, making love and cuddling. Our side-dresser that Mr. Workaholic's mother had given us as a moving in gift that I loved and he loathed. Gone. Upstairs our beautiful iron-posted bed had disappeared, the very bed we first slept together in and the one where our story together began. Our second, smaller bed in the spare-room was also amiss, as was the dining table and chairs. Our whole lives were just gone. No warning. No preparation. Just gone. After dropping my luggage indoors I begged him to stay and not leave me alone in the house for fear of my 'dark-cloud' returning. He didn't. He left. Mr. Workaholic just kissed me on the head (inappropriate as it was) and left.
 
That night was my lowest, but I am proud to say that the 'dark-cloud' has left now, and gladly has not been back since. I am in a much better place, with friends and family around me. I have come a long way from the girl crawled up in a ball reading and watching television as an escape from a reality she wasn't ready to face. I am stronger now. Stronger than never before. But one day he'll realise, yes, Mr. Workaholic will realise that I was the best thing he ever had ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Lucky Escape ...

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx