Is This It?

Hello again you!

So after last week's post this one is going to seem very much mundane indeed. Sorry to all those Nypho's out there but I have been far, far too busy this week to set myself up as a phone sex operator just yet. I have much bigger fish to fry you know. With Mr. Warehouse moved in and mostly settled, with his doggy joining us this weekend, we begin our lives together in harmonious bliss - That is until all hell breaks loose because he ate all my Mini Cheddars!

Who ever knew that things would end up this way huh?!  When I look back on the time I have had with Mr. Warehouse and all we have done in it, everything just seems so fast. This suddenly hit me whilst walking past a jewellers on Friday afternoon following a rather hectic but relaxed few days in the office (and considering it is coming up to the end of financial year, it says a lot about our office productivity). There I was, all twenty-four years of me, standing in the afternoon shadows of a second-hand and vintage jeweller, looking at the sparkly sapphire numbers twinkling back at me that I dream of wearing on my left hand one day. But then it suddenly dawned on me. I am twenty-four! 

Walking away I suddenly I could hear my maternal clock located somewhere in my womb ticking loudly. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock! Louder and louder as I thought about what I wanted to do and what I had planned for myself and the timescale to do it in. I mean we all have a five-year-plan right? Right? You see, I want a child before I turn thirty at least. And before all of that I want to get married and tell stories of fairytale princesses and dancing the night away with their Daddy on the happiest day of my life, next to the day that they came into my world of course. I had to get a decent paying job (or just ask for a cheeky pay rise). I would have to travel the world to several more places including Africa and the East in order to extend the stories I already hold to include riding elephants through the jungle and cuddling lions in the Savannah! I will need to buy a house to accommodate this womb-bending brood I plan, something as you all know including four-bedrooms, an en-suite to the Master and a picket fence outside on a quiet suburban street with optional neighbourhood watch. But I suppose that is a lot to do for a little person like me who is only just learning to drive and still sees a shot of Cherry Sourz a good friend on a night out!

I just want to be fully prepared for parenthood and know that I have done things the right way and inside wed-lock. I know it is not for some people; The whole getting married and then having children, and in all honesty I do try not to judge people who are in that situation, but I just know that in my heart of hearts I would be severely disappointed if my life was planned out any other way. Not of course that I would ever regret my children if that is how the winds swayed, but I would feel disappointed in myself that they were not born into something that was already legally and lustfully bound by love. 

Now I know that a huge majority of that gumph above is pressure put on by myself and that to achieve everything I want before having children and ideally speaking within the next six years, that is one heck of a shit-load to cram on in! I mean whilst I love Mr. Warehouse to the ends of the earth and back, am I really ready to become someone's wife? I just don't know?! As harsh as that sounds the whole prospect scares me slightly, but at the same time excites me with the possibilities! Is this it? Is this now my life? Is Mr. Warehouse the one I shall grow old with? Is Mr. Warehouse suddenly dawning on me as Mr. Right?

I suppose in several of my past relationships, I have queried if I could ever be with that one person for the rest of my days, eating with them, sleeping with them, living with them and raising a family with them. Will I ever get bored of them, or them of me and is there anyone else left out there better suited? But then I think about my Mr. Warehouse and to back when I was single. Reality is that even then and now it would be the same answer. No there is not someone better suited to myself. Or maybe there is but who has time to flick through countless dick-pic's on Tinder and faux profile's on PlentyOfFish.com when I have someone who is wonderful in so many ways - His ability to eat all six packets of Mini Cheddars not leaving me a single crumb being one of them, haha! 

My dearest boyfriend is ever so kind and considerate. He is very affectionate but also stands his ground when we have a barney or believes he is right (does he not know all women species are right in every way all ways?) He buys me gifts now and then, sometimes flowers, sometimes chocolate and when I have a crappy day he brightens my mood by breaking me into laughter. He is silly and stupid - Just like me. He is immature and loves giggles, pillow fights and chasing each other round the house with tickles just as much as I do (apart from I don't like being tickled). Mr. Warehouse is thoughtful, getting me things I need and helping with household chores when I ask. He looks after me when I am ill and comforts me when I am sad. He has never made me cry. Ever in fact. And he does his very best every day to make me feel like I am his absolute world. His be all and end all, and everything in between.

I suppose the next logical step for us would be for to get a dog, get a house and get engaged. But that is my plan and a relationship is about compromise, but with Mr. Warehouse holding my hand tight, I doubt I will be compromising much that I didn't already have the chance to look for! 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Shitty Stick!

Afternoon All, 

So after last weeks slight rant over religion and the tales of God and his holy tales of Easter, this week has been slightly more back to norm. Settling fully back into work and life after returning from Las Vegas and the Easter break I decided to get back in contact with some old Pals from my crazy days as a student in college. 

Dropping a few texts, a couple of WhatsApp messages and a few short hours later I was not only on time, but early to meet my dear friend Miss Chocolate. As I sipped on a Martini Espresso topped with some sort of creamy loveliness I noted all my office and life stresses melting away, thinking about how much my friend had changed in the months that we had not spoken. 

Flicking through a magazine, noting all the different trends for Spring/Summer'15 and wondering where I shall be holidaying this year I was tapped on the shoulder by a familiar face, that of Miss Chocolate's. Miss Tatt's was meant to be joining us but I think had to work late so send her best wishes and recommended the menu. As we were seated for our table at TGI Friday's we both couldn't contain our excitement, twittering on about life as we both knew it and of all the things that had happened over the past year or so. First of all there was the explanation about how fabulous Vegas was and secondly was the long, interesting and the somewhat repeated tale of my latest boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse. 

You see it's not that I don't like telling people how Mr. Warehouse and I met, I do (Besides "met at work" sounds a lot better than "met on Tinder") its just sometimes I wonder, and I am sure that Miss Chocolate and the Tweedles will vouch for me when I say this - I have never really been single. Not properly anyhow. All I seem to do is skip from one relationship to another. I mean it went from being in school where I had nobody interested in dating me to suddenly not being able to shake them off. It all started with the lovely and sweet Mr. Ginge in Sixth Form. Within a year, then along came along the heartbreakingly perfect Mr. Workaholic. After a couple of months it was the intermediate episode with Mr. Coffee. Six-months later, along came the tragically lost Mr. Cheese and exactly forty-eight hours after ending things with Mr. Cheese I finally came up to speed with the wonderfully simple Mr. Warehouse. Yes, I can safely say I don't think I have been single for more than a few months. What can I say, beating them off with a shitty stick! I think I am very bi-polar in my relationships with men and how I acted at school has pretty much replicated itself in life as a fully fledged adult, falling in love easily and getting my heart broken even easier. 

But as I sat talking away to Miss Chocolate about my new-ish addition to my life as a twenty-something I watched as she tried to twist the story making smiles and asking questions about whether he is the one or not? Babies? Or not? Four-bed detached house in Surrey somewhere with white picket fencing, a red Volvo and a Labrador called Fifi? Or not? this round of question and answer always is the same from Miss Chocolate, maybe because she knows how important it is, or maybe because she has not had a one-hundred-percent definitive answer from me since 2010 when she asked me the same interview-esk questions about Mr. Workaholic. My reaction however is always the same since then too. I have never been true to myself in saying that this probably wont work out. There is always a maybe or a hopefully. Never a certified "Yes". 

I think that Miss Chocolate is much like me, in anticipation for the day again where we will both have that conversation and once more I will be safe in the knowledge that there is a good chance my current boyfriend is going to be my husband. Maybe my search stops with Mr. Warehouse, or maybe it carries on and he becomes another Mister in a long parade of failed relationships. Who knows?

As our conversation progressed we chatted about work, friends, family, college days and future crazy nights out to come. And as I boarded the night bus back home I hoped that the night out we had planned for a few weeks time would come about as I was, and still am in a severe need for a good old messy night out with some banging banter, popping tunes and a dance-floor that has been freshly polished. Oh and a pole - Always need a pole!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An All American Adventure!

Howdy Ya'll, 

OK so maybe not my normal introduction but I am feeling so spiffingly Stateside I might have to run down to Budgens and buy me some Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and have myself a Party in the USA! Yep that's right, today the ball was set in motion and the count down can now begin officially to my once in a lifetime opportunity trip with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to fabulous Las Vegas! But this weekend wasn't all about stars and stripes, oh no, I had something bigger than Kim Kardashian's arse to contend with this weekend for it was time that said Tweedles met my thing-that's-not-a-thing ... Mr. Warehouse!

The subject came up in conversation after trying in vain all of last weekend to speak with Miss Tweedle-Dumb on the phone. After discussing a recent planned Mini-break to Berlin to visit kitsch German Christmas Markets with her boyfriend and with my envy growing at how I do not have access to such a luxury as the single life permits Bachelors to a lonely life of  misery whereby trips alone are frowned upon even by hotels - See any hotel ruling about single occupancy! Frowned upon I say! Nevertheless conversation soon lead to Mr. Warehouse and oddly I came across all coy. Now I like a good air of mystery about myself which I know for a fact I do not have as I am so god damn open about everything (I mean come on I have been spilling my life out to you every week for the last year) but strangely I quite liked Mr. Warehouse being my naughty, sordid little work-related secret. But you know since were fucking I may as well introduce him to the two people in my life that are most important to me. Ma Mama et Papa, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb!
"So. When are we going to meet him?" I was bluntly asked as I evasively avoided the questions about whether or not I was satisfied and if this satisfaction met or exceeded what I had from Mr. Cheese (Because lets be honest I don't think it would fall much beneath it?). I gave a vague idea as to sometime, maybe, possibly, if-everybody-wants-to meeting up for drinks over the weekend. With my best friend appeased and after touching on some scary gossip we ended our call. A date had been set. A time had been allocated. Four days, nineteen hours to go in counting!

Choosing a classy cocktail bar in the middle of town I thought I had picked well until that is it Saturday arrived and with it the rain. With Miss Tweedle-Dee feeling not up to it much and myself very much under the weather indeed I reluctantly but gladly changed the venue to my cosy apartment where we would sip on Rose and home-made cocktails, maybe even a cheeky Hot Chocolate with all the trimmings whilst watching the fireworks across the rooftops of Bedford from my huge skylight. Mr. Warehouse standing behind me holding my waist tightly as my best friends looked on in wonder if this was the one I had been waiting for. This however was as far from reality I think you probably could have got. I don't think even I could have predicted how entertaining and loose the evening would become and not a cocktail pineapple stick in sight!

With my girls slumped into my beloved orange couch, Miss Tweedle-Dee looking into flights to Las Vegas and Miss Tweedle-Dumb sorting out the equally important catering for the evening I suddenly got very, very nervous. Pacing the lounge I made it seem like I was nesting but I think my friends could tell I was anxious about both the arrival of Domino's and Mr. Warehouse. A few moments passed and in between British Airways hold music and discussions about meatballs (non-sexual I might add) I had a phone call. Unknown number it could only mean one thing. Pizza was here! But then I had another call - Mr. Warehouse! He was also here and as I skipped down the stairs after my Tweedles my excitement grew. Halting abruptly at the bottom of the staircase I was thrust a fist full of notes and pushed out to the poor delivery boy. 

As I opened my front door I noticed not only the bearer of feast for the evening but also a cool cucumber leaning against the Victorian brickwork of my flat's exterior. Like something straight out of 1955 dressed in denim jeans, hair a mess and a leather-esk jacket on I half imagined myself as Sandy from Grease, complete with Frenchy and Rizzo by my side. Noticing the 'Good-boy-jumper' he always wore when trying to impress me I remembered that I had guests and that since Mr. Warehouse was not my boyfriend I should not pounce on him, ravishing his lips like a horny school girl. Instead after helping Miss Tweedle-Dee for her newly acquired car keys (She recently passed her driving test last week - Well done!) I introduced him to the family. Noticing that both parties were nervous of the other ones company I proceeded to get everyone indoors and warmed up. Winter was setting in and I wasn't about to spend my Saturday Night outside when there was steaming hot takeaway on my porch table! 

With no care for dinner tables or cutlery we all dug into slices and took to establishing small talk before the conversation dried up. In a panic with what we should do or talk about Miss Tweedle-Dumb came up with a good idea of playing Cards Against Humanity to help break the ice a little. Now I don't know whether my friends were just being nice to him or if they genuinely found his answers regarding dead parents and pixalated bukkake funny but one thing is for sure and that is Mr. Warehouse has both a sickeningly good sense of humour but also a limited knowledge of all things pornographic. And so the evening ensued with a game, or five, of Cards Against Humanity whereby in-between searches on Urban Dictionary and even more glasses of wine we all ended up getting more and more comfortable with each other. And with strict instructions not to kiss me, fondle me, woo me or indeed grope me, Mr. Warehouse was doing very well considering I was now, for some odd reason, dressed in my Snow White costume (Minus the wig but with the addition of eight-inch stripper heels). I recall it was as a prize for the winner of Cards Against Humanity the person would be awarded the prize of making me do anything I asked of them. I suppose looking back on it Miss Tweedle-Dumb could have always thought outside the box with something a little more extravagantly X-rated! 

With the night slowly subduing, all four of us retired to my bedroom for a bit of a calm-down. As my friends continued in their laughter and giggles, going through weird dreams I used to have and old diary entries from a angst-ridden teenage moi, I saw in their eyes something different. Something I had never seen in them before around someone I was currently seeing. They were relaxed. At ease in Mr. Warehouse's company they thought nothing of raiding my sex-draw like crazed bears (On the hunt for what can only be described as 'My Purple Dinosaur') and stomping around my flat with the Snow White wig on like a dodgy Cher lookalike. Never before had I ever seen either of my Tweedles, My very best friends in the whole entire universe, act this way around a boy they had just met that was boning their BFF. I asked Miss Tweedle-Dumb why this was later on in the evening after Mr. Warehouse had left, enquiring as to if she liked him or not. 
"He is not a snob" Miss Tweedle-Dumb started with, adding that he "is not like all the other pompous rich arseholes you dated in the past. This one is different. He is common, and I like that".

Finally snuggled up in bed, the faint snores from Miss Tweedle-Dee in the other room as I spooned Miss Tweedle-Dumb, I thought about the evening that had just deceased. A few stolen kisses in the kitchen and when the Tweedle's were not paying attention were now not enough. I needed more. But as I reflect now on my weekend as it happened I know now what I was missing. Affection. The simplicity of having someone that wants to peck and smooch and kiss and snuggle and cuddle and nuzzle and shower you with love every waking moment until you are back in their arms asleep on their chest. I had missed that. I knew with Mr. Cheese that it was missing and for some strange reason I put up with it for so long, pretending to myself that it was OK and I would just learn to live with it. And yet I forgot how blissful it is to have it - Even if it does make you sick! 

What won't make me sick though is the amount of American food I will be consuming in Las Vegas and from now until the moment I step off that plane in the middle of the Nevada desert I shall be dreaming about eating all manner of wondrously lavish concoctions; Pancakes and Bacon, Open-All-Hours Starbucks, Captain Crunch, Donuts, Burgers, Fries and all the peanut butter flavoured shit you can think of. Book me Harley Street, I'm gonna need  gastric band when I come back!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The Game Changer

Hello There, 

Overtime. Mentally. Physically. Metaphorically. I had been at the office for over ten-hours. Now you would think that maybe I had been at my desk, desperately sifting through a never-ending pile of papers and files. But no. I had been in the canteen since I finished and as I looked out the window to the darkness I realised I should probably go home. Why was I so late in leaving. A conversation I had been having with myself for the past few weeks. Only this time it was being voiced out in the open for everyone to hear - Myself included!

Ever since our first encounter I had thought there was something about him. I couldn't, and in all honesty still can't put my finger on it. Newly single I was out with work colleagues and trying my hardest to come across in a good light as well as fitting in. The lads instantly were a life-line, offering up banter, feminist comments and crude remarks. I felt at ease in there company. Laughing along and discussing matters of the boudoir I knew that whilst I had only been with the company a matter of weeks I was fast becoming a valued and exciting member of the team. One person seemed to take more notice than most though and as we left the first bar and headed to the second I was collared by some fellow female colleagues. 

"He fancies you!" they whispered to me making excuses to the boys that we were talking about my shoes. Flattered yet unbelieving of there comments I brushed it off although thankful though for capturing the attention of someone who wasn't my most recent tragedy. I had not long been separated from Mr. Cheese, forty-eight hours to be precise. Things as I am sure you are all very aware of by now had been going down hill for a while and whereas I was willing and able to make the effort and put in the graft to make it better, I knew that it would end sooner or later. And so talking to the tall, broad guy dressed in a white and blue pin-striped shirt that kept unbuttoning by itself I soon found myself back into my old ways and realising the fun of being single. Assuming that the smart shirt would lend itself to purpose (And also being new to the company I might add) I thought that the guy who I had caught the eye of was some business man or sales representative, possibly only in town for a night or two. But oh how wrong I was. 

Waking up that Saturday morning was one of life's best epiphanies. Granted, it may have taken a bit of practise to get into the idea that me and The Cheese were over but nevertheless I got there in the end ... Somewhat! Subway crumbs scratching my chest and still dressed in the clothes from only a few hours before I recollected the memoirs. Suddenly Singlesville didn't seem so scary and I knew at that point I was going to be OK. As the weeks passed and the story continued I lay oblivious to the signals. The excuses to come into my office, the bumping into each other in the canteen and even the cheeky following on social media. It seems I couldn't escape my little admirer. I liked it though. Attention is something I am always happy to be on the receiving end of and am always trying to get myself into the spotlight. It seemed as if someone had noticed me. As time went by the messages got more and more frequent until there wasn't a moment that didn't pass with us not talking. He was the first person that had put a smile on my face in months. His comments and words made me feel not wholly repugnant to all men and that Mr. Cheese was a complete fool to have given up on let's face it everyone - Someone pretty fucking awesome!

As Mr. Cheese faded into the background, reappearing only to crack my heart a little more, I became more aware of the connection myself and the not-so-secret-admirer had. He made me bellow out loud with laughter and his cheekiness knew no bounds. Something between us had started and despite my initial reservations I am finding myself thinking about the alternative more and more. It is almost a daily occurrence whereby I lay in bed, looking out to the stars, snuggled in my duvet pondering the "What ifs" of my world. But usually my last thought as I drift off is I wonder what would happen if I just allowed this thing between myself and my partisan to blossom and grow? With thinning and ridiculously spiky gelled hair best left to 2000 and a stocky build my affections were no where near as strong as his directed towards me. I won't lie, I was not initially drawn to him for his looks and even as it stands now I know I will sound like a bitch when I state that I am not conventionally attracted to him in the way I am with others. But I have to be honest - Both with myself and also with him. The things that I like about him are more important than being sexually attractive anyway, things like his personality, charisma, likability, deep brown eyes and the cute, hippo-toothed grin. As eloquently put by both Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Mr. CWG (Otherwise known as Mr. Creepy Warehouse Guy), maybe he is not my type but this might just be what I need. Maybe I have just been so focused on looks that I forgot about substance and that he does make me smile and brightens my day. Yes he is not my type ascetically, but he is on the inside. I know in my heart that he would treat me as not just a princess but as a queen, placing me on the pedestal of which I have perched many a man in the past. Maybe he is 'a grower like mould?'

In the beginning it was all just a bit of fun and whilst I wasn't looking there has been something simmering away between myself and that mischievous Mr. Warehouse! And so as I sat balanced carefully on the wobbly, wooden table in my works canteen I began to be ground down in the quest for a solution to this problem that had plagued me for so long. My answers and excuses being analysed and dissected by Mr. CWG  I was running out of things to say. Hitting the nail on the head he burrowed into my mind, truthfully unmasking the real reasons why my dating career was such a failure. I was scared. Nothing new there I already knew that. But why was the pinpoint question. I knew the answer to that one as well. Realising this made complete sense as to why things between myself and Mr. Cheese had never worked out and the same with Mr. Coffee as well all those many moons ago. I was completely and utterly terrified of being hurt again as Mr. Workaholic had left me. Deepening conversation turned to darker matters and as I brutally opened up about mine and Mr. Workaholic's demise and I could see my make-shift therapist feel unsettled as he had both hit a nerve and also the root of my problem. 

It wasn't just me I was scared about hurting. Mr. Warehouse is such a nice guy, probably one of the nicest. Kitten-like in his manner, a timid and shy he lacks the confidence to make a move with me. Cute and sweet and as dorkily romantic as that is I know that given half a chance, a shot of Smirnoff or two and the right opportunity my pussy-cat would soon pounce like a tiger. Scared of rejection he doesn't understand that I see through all his flaws and whilst I know I could probably have him wrapped round my little finger if we were together, an idea I am not entirely as opposed to as I was a few months ago. In the long run however I don't know if our tastes match exactly. I would like to get married - He does not. I like a traditional and cosy home - He likes minimalistic and modern. I like things rough and hard and he seems to me to be the kinda guy that would run a mile if I brought out a whip and some chocolate body paint! But then we agree with many other aspects of life such as wasting Sunday's in bed watching vloggers on YouTube, our love for cheesy and frankly cringe-worthy 90's disco classics and conversation about puppies. And besides dating someone that I work with, even indirectly, causes it's own friction. As a very family orientated business, literally as well, I wouldn't just be dating Mr. Warehouse; I would also be dating the rest of the company as tongues would cease to wiggle. But then I ask myself is that any different to now being the couple of flirtatious twenty-somethings engaging fellow workers in the conversation of "will-they-won't-they". 

As I walked home I heard the bells ring out as if some sort of awakening was meant to occur but alas the saga continues, as it has done so for weeks. In my heart I have already admitted to both myself and Mr. Warehouse that we will end up in bed at some point, probably with the help of copious amounts of alcohol and the gradual grinding down from colleagues to hook-up. It will happen. I know it will. Its just a question of when and how and where! If I am honest with myself I do like him, even if only a little bit but I don't think I am ready to admit it to myself yet, let alone to an smitten and infatuated Mr. Warehouse. As for now or the future of this all I don't know. I do acknowledge one thing for sure and that is that while I detest the idea of a relationship right now I would like something more than what I have at the moment which is just nothing. I want the cuddles and spooning of someone regular but with the opportunity to meet and date others. Being truthful I know that Mr. Warehouse would not be up for sharing and I don't blame him but right now I can't do commitment. 

And just as I say this I ponder as to the mention of a 'Amis De La Advantage' NSA-relationship a familiar face makes a welcome reappearance. Mr. ToyBoy. The game just got interesting ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Age Is But A Number ...

Evening Everyone, 

So I hope you have all had a good week. I know I certainly have, well at least the weekend anyhow. After finally being reunited with my office and working all week at my desk through the mountainous region of papers and fresh leads I eventually made it to the weekend. With nothing much planned other than catching up on sleep, watching trash TV, and my last supper with Mr. Cheese before he ventures into Africa. Oh yeah, and a little thing called a first date!

So I met Mr. ToyBoy on a dating website called Plenty Of Fish several weeks ago and have been chatting ever since. We swapped numbers a few weeks ago before I went to Reading Festival and arranged for our First Date once I was back. So Saturday soon rolled round and I was shit hot as I walked out into the cool and still undecided English weather. Making my way into town I didn't feel nervous at all and was at ease with yet again another First Date that could go hideously wrong. "Can you even top a date with a clown and someone who is possibly still married to a Thai prostitute?" I thought to myself as I bumbled along the bus route. Arriving at the specified destination I waited patiently. At twenty-minutes too early I was beginning to get anxious. Would he even arrive? Has he already arrived, took one look and legged it? Will he look like him? Was it really a good idea to wear a faux leather shirt to a First Date? Nerves getting the better of me I messaged him, letting him know I had arrived. Seconds later I heard a ping. 

"I thought we were meeting at half-one? :) xxx" The message read. Checking my calender I felt like the biggest penis in the universe. Making up some excuse and face-palming myself I wandered into the town centre for some window-retail therapy to compose myself, laughing all the way. "How stupid of yourself. Gosh Abbey you are such a tool sometimes!" I silently scolded as I looked at Blanket Capes of the new Autumn/Winter 2014 collections in the high street stores. Returning to the meeting spot I anticipated the arrival of my date. At just twenty I was sceptical on his idea of what this encounter may lead to and at nearly three-years his senior (God I am so old) I worried about the compatibility. As his waltzed round the corner I swooned as his arms pulled me into his tall frame. A quick cuddle was quickly followed by a brisk walk in hunt of the coffee shop I had already picked out on my walk to work the morning before. Conversation was electric right from the get go and he was more attractive than he was on his dating profiles or his social media pages. A good and proper TDH - Tall, Dark and Handsome.  

Seating ourselves in the middle of the coffee house we sipped on hot chocolates topped with marshmallows and cream. I couldn't help but notice flecks of amber in his already deep brown eyes. "Best put on my water-wings I might fall in" I chuckled to myself. Giddy with excitement we chatted away about all manner of things from usual things like films and music to festivals and holidays. No subject I think was left untouched as we skipped from tale to tale involving everyone from family members and friends to the latest headlines. Before we knew it I felt as though I had known Mr. ToyBoy for years and with my initial concerns that my young date was not what I was looking for in this whole world of dating I soon noticed that I was having more laughs with him than I think I had in a long, long time. He was young and fresh and new and exciting. Something my life had been lacking for a few months now. Parts of my date intrigued me. Like why would he want to go on a date with me first of all? Although I may party like I was born in 1994 sometimes I am still a respectable twenty-something with a fast approaching birthday which will then leave myself and my date exactly three years, eleven months and several days difference in age. The fact that in conversation Mr. ToyBoy explained that I was only a few months younger than one of his sisters made me question why I had even said yes. But then I realised that there was a massive grin splitting my face in two and I was having the time of my life. Ahh yes, that's why!

As the Date continued I thought that it might be a good idea to take a walk along the river and since Mr. ToyBoy had not really been to Bedford before I thought I would highlight the good bits of the City. Walking along the edge of the river bank we stopped at the foot of a familiar bridge. Pushing aside memoirs of Mr. Cheese and butterflies I was ushered to take the first steps onto it. Almost as a right of passage I did so knowing that barely twelve months ago I was doing the same thing with a different face. Upon reaching the other side we continued our conversations, well, that was until we saw the cutest little ball of fur bundling along the gravel path winding round the river. Simultaneously we whispered about how sweet it looked and our fury at not having a puppy like that. I turned and looked at my date as he did to me. A mutual love for dogs! Bliss. As we unintentionally followed the canine and its owners we kept brushing hands. As wonderful as it was I wondered about when the first move would be made if ever. Just then as we overtook the fluff-pup and after giving it a little pat on its soft head, Mr. ToyBoy gently and sweetly took ahold of my hand. Heart skipping slightly I felt my face crack once more. Trying to hide my excitement, head-thoughts turned to Mr. Cheese and how much effort and courage it took for me to build up and ask him to hold my had as we waltzed the hot streets of Kensington and Chelsea back in the summer of last year. 

Settling down on a bench I could tell what was coming next. Nervousness racked his Rugby-playing body as he obviously pondered on how to approach my lips. Secretly knowing what my Date was planning I pouted and made my face look as cute as I could. More chatter took over though and before long we were deep in conversation about my inability as a graduated Media Studies student to have gone through my course not watching classics like Lord of The Rings and Disney's Frozen. I think I may have even had a solo performance of Let It Go?! Laughing along he asked if I was cold. I said yes. Without another word I was forced into a cuddle. Snuggling into his chest I mentioned about my furnace-like heat that I seemed to give off. Mr. ToyBoy agreed and followed up with a comment that made me think that maybe age didn't matter so much. 

"I wish I had met you sooner Abbey. You make me feel really at ease and have made getting better easier." (He was poorly with a case of probable man-flu earlier in the week) Mr. ToyBoy said in a deep whisper. Turning my head up to face him I saw his brown eyes gaze into mine. As the curtains fell over our peepers and our heads turned I knew it wouldn't be long before I got to know just how mature he was. Locking lips I could feel the delightfully light but intense pressure on the nape of my neck as we kissed passionately in the increasingly chillier weather. Gently teasing each other we got into a rhythm and continued for what was only mere seconds but in which I wished could never end. Breaking from the lustful make-out sesh I returned my head to Mr. ToyBoy's shoulder and looked out to the still water of the river. I smiled at the tactical positioning of where we had chose to indulge in our first kiss. On the left was the wrong bridge. On the right was the right bridge. Somehow I felt at ease with my decision to move on from Monsieur Cheese. I was happy and smiling and potentially had someone here with me holding me in his arms that wanted me. Just as I took reflection on how at ease I was and to the last person I shared with part of the world with I felt a little peck on my hairline. Sweet as it was I think I knew then that I really liked my Date. 

After getting caught in a rain storm and nearly catching Hypothermia we called it a day and headed back to town so we could make our own ways home. Unfortunately due to the rain (and not the fact that we were stopping every few steps to have a cheeky kiss in said rain) Mr. ToyBoy had missed his connection home. So before calling a cab we headed into a Caffe to get warm and dry as well as indulge in a little sweetness in the form of two more hot chocolates and a white-chocolate Blondie to share. "He can share this Blondie any day!" I pondered arrogantly to myself as I took a lady-like gulp from my creamy concoction. Sharing out the treats of yet more marshmallows, crumbly chocolate and nutty brownies conversation ebbed. I didn't really know what to say, although I knew the Date itself would have to end at some point. Rising from the table we stepped into the fresh outside and dialled for a driver. As we said our goodbyes we both agreed on having a wonderful afternoon in each other's company. Another smooch before I dragged myself away, struggling not to skip all the way home. 

Mr. ToyBoy. The one to bring about the question of age-difference. The one who makes me feel like I am fifteen again. The one who makes me quander what I am really looking for in 2014. In all honesty I don't know. But I know one thing for certain and that is that if the first Date is anything to go by, the second Date will be just as electric. Date number two - Bring it on Mr. ToyBoy!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

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

The Flood

Afternoon Chaps,

As the taxi pulled up to whisk me away and the Cab driver asked of my destination I smiled to myself as we pulled out of my road. Stomach acid crashing around in my stomach I tried desperately to hold it together as I made small talk with my driver. Nerves were mounting as we approached the turning down the long bumpy road. Taking a deep breath I paid the Cabbie and prayed that I wouldn't be calling him any time soon. As I was wished good luck I closed the car door and headed to the familiar looking cottage in the country - Somewhere I once felt was like home. Taking a deep breath I stepped  inside. After being welcomed in with hugs and taken-aback smiles I was ushered into a room filled with faces of familiar origin, but many blank expression I had never seen before and in all honesty would probably never see again. Standing there like a Lemon holding a bottle of something I had discovered unopened and of alcohol content under my sink I felt very out of place. Although warmly welcomed, there was one person whom had not greeted me yet. That somebody was Mr. Cheese.

We had not spoken in several months but now I thought, for some strange and unbeknown reason, that now would be the best time to start building on a friendship that was never there. You see as many of you know, myself and Mr. Cheese had been seeing each other for nearly a year before we the curtains were closed for the last time back in June. I knew that as soon as we broke it off that I couldn't just be friends with Mr. Cheese straight away and that it would take me time to adjust to the dynamics of a friendship rather than a full blown relationship. Since we separated, there has been little to no contact between the two of us and whilst Mr. Cheese has had a busy time finishing work in London, moving back to the family home in the Shire, going on holiday and preparing for his trip to Ghana I have been dealing with death, jobs and hideous dates. Both of us have been busy but after scrolling through social media one morning on my commute to work I noticed that there was an invitation to a certain someones birthday party. And that is where I was. In the middle of a crowded kitchen watching his Grandma drink Whiskey from a pint glass and awkwardly talking to a Tom Cruise lookalike.

I knew that it probably was not the best idea I had ever had coming here but equally there was no one that could stop me, mainly because I didn't tell anyone. No one knew I was there. I had not consulted the Tweedles as I knew that their reaction would be somewhat fiery. I dare not ask them their opinion on going to the party for I knew exactly what they would say. I spoke to no one else about it and kept it a secret. Not even the birthday boy himself as nobody could find him. Momma Cheese had gone off to find him but to no avail. Awkward as that was I was then approached by the youngest of Mr. Cheese's brothers and was told promptly that I was more than welcome and that everyone was happy to see me. 'All bar one person though whom has yet to be found' I thought to myself. Having no choice in the matter I was then escorted by Momma Cheese, Auntie Cheese and the youngest brother through the now hushed and on-looking party guests. Out onto the patio I stepped, in bright pink shoes that had seen me through many an occasion. raising my head as I slid down the steps and onto the soft grass the mood shifted and the crowd that once surrounded the recent twenty-three-year-old dissipated onto the rest of the lawn. Like magic, Pappa Cheese had switched on the fairy lights in the trees surrounding the garden giving the atmosphere an almost storybook feel.

As we stared at each other I wondered if I should be here at all and although I had been thinking about this moment since we broke-up, I struggled for words. Usually I had a soliloquy rehearsed ready to say, repeatedly drummed into my head as the last thoughts of mine before drifting off to sleep but nothing. Diddley-Squat. I felt ridiculous. And whilst conversations began to start up again around us I could still feel eyes burning into my skin, waiting to see what happened next. I'm not going to lie, of course I wanted this meeting to be as romantic and rekindling as the twinkling lights above us but I knew that would never happen. Mr. Cheese did not want me as his and that was that. Not knowing what to say I thrust the now clammy bottle of Apple Schnapps his way, exclaiming that if I was not wanted then I would leave for fear of making it awkward for everyone. 'Ha, as if that hadn't already happened' I thought. Taking the bottle off my graciously he smiled his typically crooked British grin and ushered to a garden chair away from the family paparazzi.

Although perplexed and caught completely off guard, Mr. Cheese warmed to me fast and said that whilst he didn't expect my arrival he had hoped I would come. Somewhat at ease after that we chatted about how things had ended. I knew I would have some questions I would have to answer honestly but I was more prepared for those than about the meeting itself. I explained that now was a gooder time than any to try and build a bridge, at least if it went horrible wrong I would be safe in the knowledge that I would be on a plane to Southern Ireland in less than twelve hours and that after the last time we spoke (whereby it ended with me hanging up the phone in tears) that I simply needed time to adjust and work out in my head what we were now. The dynamics of our relationship had changed drastically and while Mr. Cheese was able to accept that and move on immediately I could not. I think we both needed space to breathe but between that, the death of my Great Aunt and working my ass off I hadn't really thought about it as much as I probably should have. In all honesty I think going on other dates, although they were awful and fruitless, helped in coming to terms with the realisation that Mr. Cheese and I were friends now and that maybe in the future there could be more but right now was just not the right time, for either of us.

After the questions and explanations came the small talk. Part of me wanted to tell him of all the hilarious dates I had been on but then the thought crossed my mind of my Cheese with someone else and that was something I knew I was not ready for. Will I ever be ready to hear he has someone knew, I don't know but all I know is that right now it makes me nauseous just thinking about it. I fought the urge for the first time that evening to tell him I loved him. I knew that this would be hard because I had been here before whereas Mr. Cheese was in virgin territory. I knew what was to come; The flirtatious banter, needless touches and worst of all resisting the urge to just jump on each other. Yes, all of which were to come.

As the evening continued I felt oddly out of place. In the kitchen trying to explain to Auntie in a polite way why I was there and why myself and her nephew were now no longer an item was difficult to say the least. When asked by another member of his family the same question I shuffled around it only to be given the reply that "you too were so good together." It seemed that whilst there was a gap of nearly eight weeks since I had last seen his family the reasoning and explanation as to our relationship demise was still amiss. At every turn I was being hugged by all manner of relatives and told that I was a pleasant appearance all of which should have made me feel better but actually just made me question how I would have felt if I was still 'The Girlfriend'. I know it would have been a hell of a lot easier but that is a choice that is not mine to make.

Juke box going and drinks flowing I huddled round the Champagne fountain to fill up my glass. I steadied myself not wanting to embarrass myself in front of family and friends alike. Noticing some old university and school friends of Mr. Cheese's I headed for their alfresco conversation and tried not to be awkward. On approach I was complimented on my 'sexy' outfit by both Mr. Cheese's brother and ex-flatmate. A cheeky smile did cross my face when I heard that. Perching myself on a chair I struck up conversation and as the party goers left in due course to find a slice of birthday cake I remained with the ex-flatmate to talk of work, business, travel and dating.

Enjoying the company of someone more like-minded than anyone else at the party I was saddened by his departure early on in the evening. Work commitments called early on Sunday morning and so a cab was called to take him back to the station. A part of me did wonder why I did not just leave with him, would have been easier and cheaper to split the price of a taxi between two. But alas I stayed to endure more of Mr. Cheese's friends and families upper class waffle. I suppose given the fact that I am not Mr. Cheese's girlfriend anymore I can say that his friends are quiet literally insufferable. Non-stop talk of shopping at Waitrose, supporting conservatives and being just a general toffee-nosed arsehole leads me to believe that whilst I can fit in with classes above mine I struggle to keep tolerant or even quiet about some of their drivvle.

Snuggling into the brown leather sofa I pulled down on my rising hem-line. As I turned my head to the side, Mr. Cheese matched so that now, centimetres apart, we were gazing into each others eyes. Maybe now would come the fairy-tale moment. No. We both knew what the other one was thinking.
"Told you it would be hard, didn't I?" I coyly said in a voice deeper than my own. I was rewarded with a subtle nod and a glance at my chest. Catching his eyes I saw the twinkle that was previously missing in our relationship. That twinkle that would lead us to bed and a night to remember. Turning my head and giggling like a petulant teenager I began to flirt with my Ex. We both knew I think where it would end. Of course we did. That is the worst thing with being friends with ex-partners; You know what they look like under all them clothes and you know what your getting when you lay down beside them.

After discreetly poking and prodding each other I joined Mr. Cheese innocently to collect some duvets and cushions for those staying over and sleeping downstairs. On meeting in the long corridor of the first floor family home I was pulled in for a hug. Holding on tightly I whispered how I had missed this, just being held. I noticed then that I was equally being held just as close. Snuggling my head into his neck and chest I felt like I was safe and at home with him. Feet aching from the shoes I was wearing I shuffled from foot to foot worried that someone would intrude and think that there was something happening when there wasn't. As the bathroom door opened down the hall and someone left I was pulled in tighter, as if Mr. Cheese knew I would instantly try to pull away. He wanted me, even if only for a little while. In fact I could feel exactly how much he wanted me. Reluctantly pulling away from the cuddle I  went to move and put away a blanket. As I moved slowly round him our noses brushed and the Eskimo kisses began. Before I knew what was happening we were kissing more passionately than we had ever done before. Holding me close and pressing his palms against my hips I let out a soft moan. I couldn't help myself. Pushing me against the wall holding my face in his hands it was as if he was doing everything I had always loved about us. Ticking all the right boxes we continued our passionate embrace. held stiffly against the cool wall we were completely taken with one another, spurred on and goaded by frustration, lust and a need for each other. Lifting me up against the wall I knew he wanted more and as we kissed our way into his room we both knew what would come next.

The next morning as we woke I opened my eyes to see lying there asleep, half-spooning me, something he never done and to which I resented him for his lack of intimate sleeping arrangements. But that night Mr. Cheese could not be faulted for we both were entwined in one anothers limbs wishing it was as simple as this. Some of Mr. Cheese's first words yesterday morning were of an apology for the previous evenings lustful convictions. I too apologised but explained that this kinda thing happens from time to time with ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends so just don't think too much into it. 'Haha, says me!' I thought to myself. Trying to give and reasoning as to the events that unfolded last night I put my foot down and halted his conversation in its tracks explaining that it was simply sex, nothing more. Yes it was good but we were not getting back together and whilst it was nice it was not to be a regular occurrence. Getting dressed and doing that god awful walk of shame I passed Mr. Cheese's youngest brothers room. He called me in unexpectedly. I obliged and perched on the end of the bed as he sat up bleary eyed and tired from the night before.

"Can I ask you something Abbey?" he croaked in his just-broken teenage voice.
"Yes of course, go on" I beckoned.
"What is it between you too?" Baby-brother Cheese asked. Taken aback I was stunned by what was such a simple, almost childlike question. Desperately I clambered in my head for an answer but nothing came to me. Noticing I was struggling with a reply Baby-brother Cheese finished our brief conversation by saying that the family and him in particular missed not having me around. Blushing he went on to say that whatever had happened between me and the birthday boy, it had left his big brother not quite himself. Silence fell on the messy box room after that comment as we both reflected on what had been shared. As I got up and went to leave Baby-brother Cheese finished with a poignant message saying that "It just confuses me." It was almost like conversing with a child rather than a sixteen-year-old lad but agreed with him and left to call a cab home.

Saying goodbye, Mr. Cheese and I promised to try and stay friends, after all that why I came. Whilst he didn't want to make a relationship work we both argued that a friendship would be better than not having each other in our lives at all. And so I left; relaxed, at ease and much, much less frustrated. For the first time in weeks I felt happy about the situation. And whilst there will always be people waiting in the wings for lactose-fuelled reincarnation, right now is not the time. It seems ironic doesn't it that it was exactly a year ago today that we met on the wrong bridge on a sweltering sunny day. Life moves on, and suffice to say that a part of us will always belong to the other one ...

'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx

The Drought!

Morning All, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

''Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx