Beautiful Nightmare

Evening Guys,
   
On closing my eyes I have somehow been transported to a district that I have never been to before. Down a single country Lane surrounded by trees and bushes and on the opposite side of the road to where I was stood I could see the rolling countryside and disappearing sun. Mr. Warehouse appeared soon after and we entered the Cottage-Barn type venue to have a look around. Looking around however I couldn't help but get the feeling that we were either being watched or preyed upon. As my fiance and I wandered around the dark wood stained walls and buildings, I felt myself constantly looking over my shoulder. It wasn't long before I saw him. Mr. Workaholic. 

Making some sort of excuse I left Mr Warehouse to look around the remaining of the buildings and out houses, following Mr Workaholic into a quieter area of the estate I asked him rather frantically what an earth he thought he was doing here. 
"I needed to see you" He muttered, hushed so as not to be discovered. 
"I am a engaged woman now and you have no right turn up here - What were you thinking?" I demanded, terrified about Mr Warehouse made come along and think that something was going on when it was not. As Mr. Workaholic took me further away from my husband to be, my Ex and I snuck around the lush gardens, fountains and water features of the grounds. Mr Workaholic continued his soliloquy saying that he was unable to let me go ahead with the wedding. 
"This should have been somewhere that we would have been at time at the knot, not you and someone else. I cant let you go through with this - Please lets try again?" Mr Workaholic cooed. This was beginning to get dangerous as I could feel myself getting hotter as the moments passed. I continued to feel as though I was cheating on Mr Warehouse even though I had done nothing wrong. Just being in the same company and presence as Mr Workaholic was just as potent as before and as time went on talking about how we used to be I struggled to keep my cool. 

And as I walked closely with Mr Workaholic through the dark Forest like environment I wondered why. Why now huh?! Why would he choose this moment or this time in my life when I am happy and settled, ready to start a new beginning with someone to come back into my life and want to start again. It was Mr Workaholic that ended it all between us! Now don't get me wrong it wasn't a relationship that ended badly in the sense that there was infidelity or anything, just that Mr. Workaholic felt there was more out there than me and he wanted to find it all out. As we stopped walking amongst some trees, Mr. Workaholic turned to me and asked me to leave it all behind. As the raging battle inside my head continued, I try to reason with myself. Yes Mr. Workaholic was a brilliant lover back in the day, the best maybe - or so I thought at the time. But I have to remember that Mr. Workaholic was also the same person that left me screaming and begging in absolute turmoil as he drove away, leaving me in the home you used to share with a shattered life and a broken heart. I felt so stupid. Why should I be getting emotionally involved in something that had ended over six years ago? My memoirs started to flood back and were a stark and brutally honest reminder of how things genuinely used to be - Play fights that got out of hand, annoying each other and Mr. Workaholic putting me down or making horrid comments about me - Something Mr Warehouse would never do. But there were also laughs and giggles and happiness. 

"I am an engaged woman and I'm happily in a relationship where I mean something to someone and I to them. I cant just throw it all away like you did." I said, appalled at the notion I had been wanting for so long all them years ago. Mr. Workaholic decided to call it off in late Spring, nearly seven years ago and I suppose I never really got over it totally but it was those darker thoughts and feelings I was desperately trying to cling on to so as to hold off the passion and lust I still felt raging up inside me. But it was too much. Reasoning and promising me that things would be different this time, Mr. Workaholic leaned in closer and we passionately kissed. Shocked, horrified and stunned I backed away and surprised myself by saying "OK"

I needed to let my fiance know that the wedding was off and the engagement was over. Finding my way back to the dark wood stained barn I found Mr Warehouse wondering where I was standing around and waiting for me. I felt awful as I left Mr Workaholic in the shadows, but not nearly as awful as I would feel having to go through with what I was about to do. An emotionally charged goodbye ensued with me explaining it that it was simply not Mr Warehouse that was to blame and that this was something that I had selfishly wanted for some time. 
"I love you" I said as I left, saying goodbye to the same distraught and heartbroken face that I knew only too well. 

Returning to Mr Workaholic I wondered if I have done the right thing by going back to him. It had not worked once before and would give good reason to it not working again second time around. Nevertheless I pushed all of this to the back of my mind as I left Mr Warehouse to gather his things to leave. Hours seemed to woosh past in a rush of excitement and giddiness. Yet I felt like there was something ever so foreboding. Something was not right. Then suddenly I knew. Standing with bags packed and ready to go in Mr Workaholic's girlie white hatchback I knew I couldn't do this. Running all the way back to the almost black, wood-stained barn I found Mr Warehouse packing his bags and ready to leave, tail well and truly between his legs. And like in some kind of Hollywood movie I ran and embraced Mr. Warehouse as hard as I could never to let go again. Kissing and holding each other I began apologising and telling Mr. Warehouse that it will never happen again that he was the only one; The one and only for me. 

It was not long after this that I suppose I awoke from it all. In the knowledge that it was just a weird dream, almost nightmarish in its approach that I was unable to wake from. In my half-sleep-slumber I was forced to live up to the reality of my subconscious thoughts. Although in reality it was a Monday morning and Mr Warehouse was in no mood to be hearing of my fantastical dreams, no matter how scarily thought provoking or poignant. I suppose I will save that for another day ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Two's Company, Six is a Gatecrash!

Hey there one and all, 

So last week I explained away my review of a little known film called 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. This week however I turned Fifty Shades of Pink when I had a Déjà vu momento in which I was whisked back to an occasion I thought could never be written let alone happen twice, That Christmas Eve in 2012 - Merry ExMas! 

Awaiting my uncle outside a familiar Italian Ristorante in Bedford I pondered as to his whereabouts. It was never like him to be late, and for that fact it was never like me to be early for something. My phone bleeped with message telling me to go inside and get a nice big glass of wine ordered, instead of standing outside freezing whilst my Uncle was stuck in rush-hour traffic. 

Seating myself at the table it crossed my mind that this restaurant held fond memories of eating dinner across from a bearded and the childlike innocence of Mr. Cheese. Ahh yes. Long gone are the days of blue eyes and goofy smiles. I waded happily in my thoughts until my dinner date arrived. We sat, ordered bread and olives and yet more wine. Happy in my Uncle's company I was glad to have seen him before I went to Las Vegas. Albeit a small holiday it was still going to be the longest I have travelled, but I felt it and will be the start of an even bigger adventure into the world, as yet unexplored by Moi. 

As our Thursday night ensued we ordered our dinner and passed the time with conversations of work and family. Until that is I saw the flashes of a bright, post-box red jacket. "Oooh that's a nice winter coat I thought" I thought to myself. But just as I wondered where the owner had bought it from my ears caught the distinct sound of a voice I knew. "Surely not! It cant be! Its a Thursday evening for crying out loud?!" I thought, beginning to internally flap. But yes, it was. And as the women turned to be shown to her table I already knew who it was. Momma Cheese! As the seconds dragged I thought, hoped even, that she would be here with friends or someone else. "Not him, please, anyone but him!" No sooner had I thought those things I was suddenly thrust into a world long forgotten. Momma Cheese embraced me, soon followed by a warming hug from Baby Cheese, Mr. Cheese's youngest Brother. Mr. Cheese himself however could only muster up a short and stout "Hi". After the introductions you could tell we all felt awkward especially given the fact my Uncle had never met any of these people. Nevertheless, my ex-boyfriend and his family, now including Pappa Cheese were sat on the table next to us, so close in fact that if I put my arm out I probably would have had it round Mr. Cheese's shoulders. 

As dinner continued I listened intently to their conversation, desperate to be in two places listening fully at once. But as with anything like this - As if I am some sort of expert, of which incidentally I probably am now this has happened a second time - It was always going to be weird. Whether we met in the cereal aisle at Waitrose doing our weekly shop or in a hot and sweaty club with sticky, vodka and Redbull laced floors it was always going to be odd to say the least. Difference in as I found myself dipping in and out of their family dinner and subsequent conversations that came with it I realised that whilst I miss the intellectual conversation surrounding politics, current affairs and other matters of topical interest I certainly do not miss the way I felt when I was with (and without) my lover, Mr. Cheese.

I struggled with my Uncle to tell of anecdotes I had endured with Mr. Cheese for he was mere centimetres from me and would probably be able to retell every accountable detail in such tale not to mention fully vouch for the moments themselves. Looking back through our year together I see it through rose-tinted spectacles; The long hot summers days, lunches out, parties and social occasions not to mention the wonderful weekends in the Capital spent parading shops and eateries in West London and exploring the Chiswick High Road together in blissful harmony together. Fond memories of naughty emails and snuggles watching animal documentaries before bed. Mmm, Sunny days were they. But once the sun was gone there were clouds and storms in the skies that whilst simple to forecast were not so easily saved with an umbrella or raincoat. 

As the Cheeses' family meal ended, my Uncle and I sipped on strong Italian Coffee. Watching them dress in coats and winter attire I stood to be greeted and was again embraced by all members of the family. All bar one. Mr. Cheese himself had sprung from the table as soon as the bill was paid and dashed straight for the exit. Anyone would have thought I had the Plague or something. Not so much as a goodbye or see you soon. Nothing. As I said farewell to his family a little part of me was saddened I could not go home with them or that Mr. Cheese would not be joining me back in my flat tonight. It was then that I realised I was much better off without Mr. Cheese. Sure he was somewhat well off and his family affluent to the highest degrees I have ever come into contact with but it was not for me. The incessant need to have a cup of tea every four hours. The compulsion of vegetables and fruit at every meal. The absoluteness of getting a good nights sleep every night. And the lack of partying like a proper posh person slowly would have ground me down. I enjoyed his company most of the time yes and in terms of friends I think we would have been great, but as more than that I doubt it. I knew from the start that Mr. Cheese wasn't 'The One' and so I didn't pin too much on him, well at least I thought I hadn't. 

I had a relationship with this man, a sexual relationship (albeit not a very good one but regardless a sex life of sorts) and yet still he could not face up to me and be gracious. Gentlemanly and courteous he was not. Ignorant and ill-mannered he was. For someone brought up well from a pleasing family background and a good moral standing I would have thought more from him. I could have understood it if I had been the one doing the dumping; But it was I whom was the Dumpee in all of this. If anyone was going to have a diva moment and walk out it should have been me. But as I conversed with my agony aunties - Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee later on after live tweeting and messaging them throughout said gatecrash; Maybe he just wasn't over me!? Maybe the sight of seeing you, so unexpectedly and so well turned out after the split made him regret his choices and wonder what life could have been like. And to an extent I probably agree, I mean come on! Maybe I am the Mount Kilimanjaro of women. Easy to climb onto, but hard to get over!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town!

Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas, 

So this week after the debauchery and revelry of last weekend's pub visit I am now writing to you from a suspiciously quite flat containing myself and my two cousins whom are in bed and seem to be drifting off nicely. And after a shattering day of running round after children and catering to their needs as well as catching up on chores I am ready for bed too. Alas however I have yet to tell tales of wonder and merriment as Christmas arrived. 

Sitting round the table, adorned with scraps of wrapping paper, glitter and glasses of water nobody really wanted I began to feel a little more in the Christmas spirit of things. After getting fed up of wrapping the night before and feeling like I may have a flu on the way I had been struggling to make sure everything went swimmingly. But this was not my Christmas Day dinner. Oh No, this was the pre-Christmas catch up that Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Stuu and I do every year and this year we were joined by Miss Tweedle-Dee's little brother who in retrospect is not so little now after turning just twenty-one, I think?! The pub was not selected as a venue this year, and thankfully no ex's crashed the party either. Instead we descended on a little American-esk diner just outside of Dunstable and ate until we were ready to puke. A short meet-up, with no drinking or shots (a disappointment to most I feel) however I knew that I would see them all soon, my Tweedles especially. After bidding a farewell to them all I left for the station, presents such as my beloved selfie stick, inflatable crown and yes, a Starbucks Giftcard in toe; And, whilst that evening I, exhausted, fell asleep knowing that in only a few hours I would have to do it all again! 

Christmas Eve was a manic one at work. It was the first Christmas Eve I had ever worked and to my surprise was pleasant and jovial. The phone barely rang and every sentence was followed almost by a chocolate. So. Much. Chocolate. Nevertheless we all sat on tender-hooks, waiting for the call to say we could leave for the day. And after the last Samosa had been polished off (my manager brought them in for us, deliciously hot and potato-ey) we got the call we had all been waiting for. Tightly bundling into the small run-about myself and five work colleagues headed into town for some celebratory drinks before heading home to our families, with no need to see each other until the New Year. However whilst a couple of drinks were the intention, I had consumed more than a couple of bottles before I left the pub. A good five hours of drinking Rose wine had not stead me in a good way, especially since I was now running somewhat late for my dinner with Dad and that now it was also dark outside. Pissed as a fart I stumbled up to my Papa's car, carrying yet more wine and some Beef Jerky for snacking on. Ordering Chinese and settling down in front of the fire after was a luxury and as I slowly sobered up I decided that I should get an early night for Santa would be coming down the chimney shortly and delivering me not only a few nice presents but also a nervous boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse, to my Father's door to spend Christmas day with us. Haha, indeed - Let the festivities begin. 

After spending nearly six more Christmas' fixing my eyelashes into place and feeling like I could create a twister with a blink I crept downstairs carefully, wary that, even though I am twenty-three, Mr. Claus may be hiding somewhere and just ambush me, jumping out at any given moment, making me both cry and loath the yule-tidings. A ignominious Eggs Benedict awaited and after that a nice Irish coffee to stimulate the senses. Soon it was present time and after unwrapping all of mine, a pile which seems to get smaller the older I get, whilst others get larger I could help but wonder as to my last present. A crudely cut out snowflake on some orange card revealing inside that I was getting a new freezer from Santa (and in part my father). Grateful though I was I later learnt that I could have possibly had one second hand, thus sparing some pennies for more presents, but I was beyond caring at this point; I can now have ice cream! Welcome to my humble home Ben, and Jerry. 

As the hours twinkled by in a mass of cooking, idle chit-chat and yet more wine pouring I greeted my grandparents as they arrived, baring gifts also as well as my Grandmother and Grandfather's married-life humour. Watching my elders waddle in and take seats, grumbling politely to one another I knew that one day I would have that. And if after fifty-years together with someone you can't have a laugh together then you might as well give up! I admire my Nana and Granddad, they are the epitome of what I expect and indeed want from a marriage, and at Christmas it is never far from my mind exactly how I would want my own Festive Holidays being spent. 

Just as I finished unwrapping my reems and reems of underwear and socks from the oldies (which in all fairness I needed) there was a buzz. It was Mr. Warehouse. And after going to the wrong door he was now en route to my side, thus saving me from poor jokes and a afternoon of lassitude. Rushing upstairs to perfect my Mrs. Claus outfit and smoothing over my curls I took another swig of pink juice before answering the door to a very, very tense Mr. Warehouse. Waving off his brother who had kindly given him a lift we skipped indoors to the warmth. Barely through the door Mr. Warehouse was knocked for six with hugs and kisses as well as a sturdy handshake from my Dad and Granddad. I could tell the nerves were beginning to subside and slowly within a few moments he was himself again. Whispering in my ear as we were seated for dinner, Mr. Warehouse mentioned the fact that the outfit was not only a turn on but also a massive tease and that I was to wait until I was back home at his that night so he could unwrap me himself. Exciting as that was, I was starting to get drunk again and as my Papi and Mr. Warehouse told me to curb my drinking I could not stop. I loved it, the floppy feel of everything and the looseness of my joints. I couldn't help but laugh and giggle my way through the rest of the day, even through an slightly awkward appearance from my uncle and cousin from my mothers side popping in to say 'Hello' and give me a little something towards my Vegas/New Years Eve fund! 

As we arrived back to home to Mr. Warehouse's home he shared with his mother I was barely through the door myself when I was greeted by a huge encapsulating cuddle that took me quite by surprise. After not having very much, if any at all, contact from my mother I was not used to such embraces from other females. I was glad of it regardless and enjoyed the short burst of affection. I was promptly thrust a gift I had somewhat forgotten about from Momma Warehouse. Opening it she explained how she had noticed I left some pyjamas here some weeks ago and that she saw some fluffy ones I may like. Bright pink and with white rabbits on I soon come to the conclusion Mr. Warehouse's Mom had bought me a onesie for Christmas. Thrilled I promised to wear it to bed tonight and put it to one side as Mr. Warehouse brought out a bag. As I ushered for my Mr. Warehouse to open his he declined and forwardly asked to watch me open mine. After weeks of speculation, guessing, probing and even a little bit of sneaking we were finally about to discover the secrets that we both held. 

My presents included a mammoth Vanilla Cupcake Yankee Candle and a gargantuan, sea-blue dressing gown which now makes me look like the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. But then the big guns came out and after packing everything away and looking for the next bottle of wine to open I was handed a familiar white bag, sealed with a pink ribbon. Opening my Pandora bag I fondled not one but two velvety silk bags, rich and deep purple in colour. Opening them both I allowed the contents to spill into my palms. Two silver charms tumbled out into my hands and as I gasped I was made aware that there should have been a third and that when Mr. Warehouse got paid again he would buy me the third part of my present, completing the set. Adorable and filled with hot emotion I hugged it out and purred about how wonderful the gifts were. Snuggled on the couch and with the night closing in, our eyes beginning to fall shut, Mr. Warehouse and I succumbed to the bedsheets, but not before making sure another sack was emptied. 

Boxing Day was busy, with most of the day spent in the kitchen, tending to oven finger food and preparing canapés, not to mention baking cupcakes and Brownies. Mr. Warehouse's brothers and their families took over as did their children as well as Momma Warehouse's new Beau, nicknamed by the children as the 'Jolly Green Giant' after stretching over six-foot tall and with a gut looking as though he was eight-and-a-half months pregnant you could tell how apt it was. Soon though it was time for bed and no sooner had my head hit the pillow, myself and Mr. Warehouse were snoozing away - Until Mr. Warehouse that is snores and I have to jab him with something sharp. You see unlike when Miss Tweedle-Dumb, or even on the odd occasion Miss Tweedle-Dee snores, whereby I mutter something and they silence; With Mr. Warehouse I could place his slumbering sole onto the Syrian front-line and he still wouldn't halt his snores. So much so I am kind of looking forward to a night without the interruptions. But then again, I do have to think about not waking up next to him. And then there is the early morning with my cousins?! Oh No! Here's hoping they will stay in bed a little longer tomorrow and let Cuzz lye-in?! Wishful thinking eh ... 

'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 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

Another Bank Holiday Weekend In Style!

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 :) xx

Good Evening One and All, 

So after the latest drama surrounding mine and Mr. Cheese's relationship last week I have has a somewhat change of heart. I don't know what it is but maybe its a culmination of this weekend's events that have left me feeling somewhat very different than how I usually feel when writing to you all on a Monday evening after spending time with the Boyfriend. 

This weekend started off with a bang (or maybe bang-ers is the phrase?!) as it was Miss Bride's Hen Do for the wedding I am photographing at the end of the month. Knowing it was going to be a good night I donned myself in Military fancy-dress for the occasion (a brilliant idea I thought since both of our fathers were in the Army hence our friendship) and headed on down to the station. Strutting my stuff through town and revelling in the honks and beeps from car's I felt like the suspender tights, poofy tutu and leather jacket added extra to my busty camouflage top and Army beret. I felt like I could rule the world. That was until I crossed the road with my massive fat egotistical head thinking I was on America's Next Top Model only to then get a big honk and a enthusiastic wave from my new boss in his car! Hands to my face I thought 'Brilliant, The office will be fun next week!' No doubt if he had a camera I would be joining Lucy Pinder and the likes on the walls of the warehouse where the boys work downstairs from my office. But that wasn't the end of my encounters for the evening - Oh No! Skipping onto a bus go get to the ve-Hen-ue (I'm Awful!) I noticed a short-haired blonde at the back of the bus. Getting closer I nearly died. It was none other than Mr. Workaholic's little sister. I assumed that she hadn't noticed me until we locked eyes and hers grew as a smile invaded my face, grinning with contempt. Arrogance growing it gave me more faith in my skimpy outfit. 

Waltzing into the social-club where Miss Bride and her entourage were starting the evening I was greeted warmly and was prompted to the bar to make a purchase of the alcoholic variety. The first half of the evening was spent by playing games like stick the dick on the donkey and Willie hoopla of which any winners won a vibrator! A truly in-genius idea and one which I have stored in a bank of good ideas for myself later on in life. Apparently the party was so good that we had some unexpected guests. Above our area of the social club there was a 60th birthday party being held however it was obviously a bore since we had several males join us. Not the sort you would want to strip and get naked giving you a lap-dance but nevertheless good sports and even a bit of mild flirting going on to the point of which both mine, Miss Bride's and other Hen's chests were covered in drunken, Biro scribbled phone numbers and autographs. After pre-drinking enough that some of us couldn't stand and in-vainly trying to convince random men from the smoking area to come and get their kit off for what can only be described as loose change we all headed into Town. The night continued well into the night as expected and anticipated but when people started to drop I continued to party with anyone else left standing. The men that had crashed our Hen party had found us in a bar and one had even leaned in to try and kiss me to which I smashed my palm in his face and forcefully said no, reinstating the fact I have a boyfriend. 2am came and went and so did my last train back home to Bedford so I decided that I would continue to party and dance the night away. Bumping into old college friends and faces was fun as well and whilst heavy flirting was going on I was all the happier knowing I have someone at home for me. Eventually as the night continued and more party-goers dropped off like flies I realised I was the last Hen standing and left with three of the stags, one of which being Mr. DJ. 

Calling it a night, all four of us decided to get a cab and that I would be dropped closer to Bedford. Taking my seat next to a lovely gentleman and across the way from Mr. DJ I was grateful for the Cab and not a late night bus or two-hour wait on a cold platform in next to nothing. Once the first stop was made I was grateful also for the one-on-one time I had with Mr. DJ as I felt the need to clear the air after our earlier liaisons in such a vehicle. After mentioning briefly how nice it is that we can just be adults about it all and accept that I don't expect him to romance me further, Mr. DJ agreed adding that we are only humans and we all have needs. Safe to say that as Mr. DJ was dropped off home I was glad for the brush with him. Sunday morning pierced through the window and only managing less than three hours sleep after getting in at 4am I was defiantly feeling fragile. I suppose I'm lucky in the sense that I don't get hangover's but Sunday morning I was worse for wear, in need for coffee and my toothbrush. But I didn't have time to lounge about all day and recover from my escapades the previous evening. I had an event to attend. One of which I would be attending with my boyfriend. One of which I would be also in the company of Momma and Pappa Cheese as well as some of Mr. Cheese's close friends from school and the village he grew up in. Also in attendance was a face I had not met before. The Ex!

Entering the small village hall where friends, family, neighbours and others had arrived to celebrate a birthday party I scanned the building for a face I knew from photo's. I knew who I was on the hunt for and dressed in a floaty (very short) Grecian dress, nude heels and my legs of power on show I was ready for war! Standing by Mr. Cheese's side I was glad for being fashionably late and appreciative for the glass of Prosecco I was handed despite not eating anything for breakfast and still being slightly drunk still from my slutty-soldier antics. Greeting Momma and Pappa Cheese I felt more at ease although conscience that my boyfriend's Ex AKA Miss Cardboard Box was within the vicinity. Ready for action I made small talk with people I knew as the piano played in the background I thought about how out of place it is for someone like me to be at such a formal event. If it was my big six-zero I would be getting everyone on the floor to do the time-warp not sipping fizz and eating crab quiche. 

Striking up discussion with Momma Cheese and a friend of my boyfriends I noticed a figure swoop into position coolly joining us and halting conversation. As if in slow motion and waiting with bated breath I realised that Mr. Cheese was not by my side and that I would have to deal with this introduction alone. However I had my wit, charm and likability to push down the barrel of my gun, ready to fire if required. Taking note that the conversation had now been quashed by Miss Cardboard Box's arrival I looked to Momma Cheese for something to say. She returned the glance as if to ask do these two women know what bond's them. Turning to face Miss Cardboard Box again I shook an extended arm making sure I gave a good firm handshake. In hindsight I feel this is hilarious given everyone else I would hug or French kiss on greeting or departing but for this instance I feel that a good old British stiff handshake is appropriate. Nothing more and anything less. No sooner had Miss Cardboard Box introduced herself and she was gone. It was clear she came over at a point I would be most vulnerable without my man by my side but I held my head high and made sure she knew I was the upgraded, new and improved edition to his life. I was Queen and it felt fucking awesome!

The rest of the afternoon whizzed by in a flurry of speeches, idle chit-chat and awkward conversations with Mr. Cheese's parents that included grandchildren, joining in a family holiday this summer and Pappa Cheese dragging Momma Cheese by her hair like a caveman up to the bedroom after watching an episode of Countryfile. Note to self: If I am ever left in a room with Pappa Cheese and Countryfile is on - Be worried! Sadly I didn't have much more interaction with Miss Cardboard Box however when Mr. Cheese and I went to say our goodbye's I made a point of putting my arm around his waist and laughing at everything he said even if was about something unfunny. Making my territory known was key and I think that with the combination of drunkenness from the previous evening with added Prosecco, the lack of sleep and my insatiable appetite for sex the afternoon I think went better than ever planned in my head. I hope soon that I can arrange some events where by I can play my cards close to my chest and getting to know a little more about Miss Cardboard Box. What do they say about keeping friend's close?!

Speaking of friend's, after departing the most formal party I think I have ever been to in my life, Mr. Cheese and I headed back to London to meet some friends of his for the rest of the weekend and Bank Holiday. An evening with one of Mr. Cheese's old University pal's was informative since Ghana is defiantly on the table for the boyfriend later on in the year. I think it helped, especially since the old Uni-Buddie had gone out to the country a few years prior. Indulging in some Mexican food and talk of the excursion to Ghana made me feel a little pushed out of the conversation for a while, green for the fact I was not invited along on the lone trip and fearful of what it holds for our relationship together with Mr. Cheese. Awkwardness arrived though as the Uni-Friend asked if I was going to be joining Mr. Cheese on his travels even for a short time. Looking at one another I returned my gaze to my plate, pushing around Chimichanga as I waited for Mr. Cheese to answer. He did not. I don't know how to take it but I know the answer is that I wouldn't be welcomed on the African adventure. And so Ghana is still an unresolved though now slightly less scary problem. 

Today however has been a new day and with that brought me a huge epiphany of which I have never experienced before. Although that is a far cry from the following week. Last Monday as you all know, I started my new job of course and once completing my first full week's work I was glad to be finally back in work and have really enjoyed being at the desk and managing work life. I love it and I know I am looking forward to going back tomorrow after the Bank Holiday Weekend here in rather sunny England. Wednesday evening however was not so glorious as the weather. With the settling issues of my previous blog post hanging over me and with Mr. Cheese wanting to talk it out properly I was ready to chat. However after asking simply what Mr. Cheese's agenda was for the weekend and if anyone of his friends he was plotting to see had actually made any concrete plan's I was blown away when he responded by flying off the handle at me stating that 'my stressing was stressing him out'! Last straw! I quite literally went from having a brilliant day at work and enjoying life to fizzing with anger and combined with the mounting feelings from the months prior that still hadn't fully been address I was ready to have it out with Mr. Cheese once and for all. Engaging through heated text's he admitted he was in the wrong and apologised but was almost too late as it seemed a bit half-arse and wasn't fully appreciating the magnitude as to which I was upset. Promising to call me and resolve our differences, I let it stew informing him that it was quite simple and that I don't have to be part of his ever-changing life plan's this weekend. The hours passed and as I curled up into my duvet that night thinking how much of a prick my boyfriend was I heard the voices of close friends mewing the mantra that I always used - If your not happy end it! Drifting off to sleep I knew the time had come to call it a day and break it off whilst still loathing the fact that we were going to bed on a less-than-warm-argument. And so my mind was made. I was going to end it. 

The following evening my phone rang as I was sat reading a magazine. Caller ID defined it as the unapologetic douche-bag. Chirping a hello at the other end I answered coldly. And that was the beginning of what I thought would be the end. I cried and explained everything about how I felt unappreciated, unloved, unwanted and undervalued. I explained how I hadn't really been happy since March when we made it official and that the combination of everything had got too much. I wanted out! Talking it through we made a promise to each other that we would try and make it work and do everything in our power to do so. After all, there must be some reason I haven't given up already before now. Apologising properly I went to bed that night with a tear stain face but with a comment I hold close to my heart. 

Things are better now and after leaving Mr. Cheese with his friends on the Embankment in London this afternoon I feel much better than I usually do. I don't know why. Even after a brief catch-up with Miss Chocolate and Miss Tatts whereby the conversation was all about why I am still with Mr. Cheese and that ultimately I am wasting my time on someone who isn't 'Mr. Right'. You see whilst the conversation went over all the same points Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb go through with me on a nearly bi-daily basis I feel good about my relationship. Yes Mr. Cheese may not be as affectionate as I am and yes Mr. Cheese may not be my future but right now I really like him and want to make this work. I know that the sex isn't that great but that's something we can work on and can be improved. I can change that though. I'll just get on top and make it feel better. I wish he would go down-south on me more and I wish that he would give me some good old hard rough-and-ready but to be honest I think after talking this weekend with Mr. Cheese and discovering more about his earlier experiences in the bedroom department, it kind of explains why maybe things aren't as passionate in the bedroom as I like. The sex isn't awful and its got better over the months we have been dating. I only look forward to the days where we can go whole days spent in bed in a cycle of love-making, inside jokes and intellectual conversations that eventually lead to another round. I like him. I like him alot. I don't care what people say. I still like him. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Merry Ex-Mas!

Hi, 

So last week was a bit of a hilarious mess really but all in good humour as I am sure that now many of you will be wary of going to the spa for fear of Steam Room's with legs and those dreaded paper knickers. So far this week it has been quiet hard work. My partner on my account at work has recently taken ill bless him and I am now having to face some very big and very important meetings with my boss's boss to discuss our accounts in the coming days. If there is such a god, other than Google then can you please make sure that my colleague is fit an well so I don't have to flounder at the meeting tomorrow. That would be great thanks. Oh and whilst your there, going down a couple of dress sizes and up a cup size would be much appreciated! Besides stressing about my work as a financial lady I have been relatively relaxed about everything else. Since speaking to Mr. Cheese in depth about Christmas plans and being personally invited by his parents has prompted me to make a concrete plan. I plan to go with Mr. Cheese and his family up to the countryside of the North-West of England the weekend before Christmas and stay there up until the Eve whereby I shall hop on the train back home and spend the most important part of the Holidays.Christmas Eve as usual will be spent eating good food with good friends and maybe a few cheeky shots although I doubt it could beat last years escapades...

Christmas Eve 2012. This year so far I have gained a job, dealt with the difficult break-up from my beloved Prince Charming, recovered from another yet bout of Depression, gone on my first girls holiday, moved into my own place, turned twenty-one, stopped sleeping with my Ex, lost a job, moved back in with my Dad and his girlfriend, claimed benefits, got a new job and rekindled an old high-school romance. Such a busy, busy year. And yet here I am round a table in my local pub with my the Tweedles and a good friend. Miss Tweedle-Dumb has just passed her driving test and has bought a blue Vauxhall Corsa we have decided to call 'Blu Cantrell' and Miss Tweedle-Dee has got a new job working in the same company. 

I felt nervous. I knew that essentially I was in his playground. His territory. You see Mr. Workaholic could be anywhere in this modern and sleek tavern. Feeling anxious I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind. As myself and my two best friends sat and chatted waiting for the final guest to arrive they asked how I would feel if I saw him. I brushed it off coolly with a shady answer and diverted the conversation swiftly. Finally our guest arrived, Miss Tweedle-Dee's Ex-Girlfriend whom she had recently befriended again after a brief spat. As we sat down Miss Tweedle-Dumb went to to the toilet whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Ex went to order food at the already buzzing bar. Coming back to the table their faces were ashen. They confirmed my worst fear. Mr. Workaholic was here with his sister in toe! After getting back from the little-girl's-room Miss Tweedle-Dumb confirmed the siting of not only my Ex and his sister, but also his mother and his mother's boyfriend. Trying not to panic I shrugged and simply said that we were at opposite ends of the pub and so it was fine. If several adults cannot be in the same room as each other after living together for nearly two years then I think that it's a little petulant. Nevertheless I stood from my chair to order my own food. After paying for my meal up front I noticed from the corner of my eye a tall, dark handsome man slouched across the sticky bar. No mistaking it. It was him. Mr. Workaholic!

Seating myself in good company talk soon turned to other things and just before dinner arrived I insisted they opened the presents I had saved so hard to buy them whilst not having a job. Although the excitement and joy were overshadowed by some bodies moving their half-eaten dinners to a table across from us. 'Much closer than the other side of the boozer' I thought to myself. Yep, that's right. All four of the Ex-Family had moved significantly closer to me and my friends. Getting agitated I added it to the things in the back of my head and ramped up the volume and actions. I opened my presents I had received and squealed in delight as I unwrapped the literature and nic-nac's from my Girls. Everyone was pleased and in a happy mood. As we ate food and drank more we chatted about the year that had gone and the year that was to come. I think it was safe to say it wasn't the best year of my life but I overcome some things I thought I would never be able to bounce back from and now I knew I could do anything. I could take over the world. Just as I was feeling invisible something Kryptonic arrived to dash my superpowers. It was the Ex-mother-in-law(ish). Everyone stopped eating. Jaws dropping open revealing half eaten potato and carrot. Shocked as was I we listened to her shpeal. Phrases like 'You look beautiful' and 'Oh how skinny you look, have you lost weight?' flew out of her mouth like pigeons and shat all over my parades. 

 As if the cringe-meter wasn't broken enough she then addressed my fellow dinner guests asking if they were all having a nice evening and looking forward to Christmas. Numbly they all nodded and replied quietly. As she left she said how good it was to see me and mentioned again how well I looked. Continuing our meal, myself and the girls felt very, very awkward and on-edge. Although I had a feeling that it was not the last. Finishing our meal Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I braved the fresh winter air for a cigarette and a chat about what had just happened. I felt awful for the fact that my friends had to endure my embarrassment with me and promised that we would try and make the best out of a bad situation. Walking back into the warm, bright restaurant come bar chain we soon noticed we had some new neighbours on the table adjacent to us. Yes. It had happened. Again.

As I took my seat at the head of the table so as to protect Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and her Ex from the onslaught that might follow I was approached again by said Mummy Workaholic. Again praising me for looking so good and well and loosing alot of weight since I last saw her nearly ten months ago. I felt like saying to Mr. Workaholic's interrupting mother that sometimes when people break-up with other people for no apparent reason after planning entire lives with each other and building foundations for the future sometimes you just loose your appetite for simply how sick they make you feel. After telling me of her plans to drink herself into oblivion with her cheating boyfriend, heinous son and bitchy daughter she left me and my friends to it. I don't know why she told me her plans for the night, nor the timings of these plan's either. I was never going back to her son ever again. He fucked it all up. Not me. Soon, after about an hour they all left to hit the pubs, clubs and bars of our small home-town, although I was swiftly off home to anticipate Santa's arrival on the morrow. But not before a quick death-stick and drink to settle ourselves. Whilst outside on a fag break with Miss Tweedle-Dumb we joked about when her Ex was turning up to the party. She laughed but she wasn't laughing when she returned to our table only to find the table once containing Mr. Workaholic and Company had since been replaced by her own Ex-Boyfriend and some friends I knew from college. 

You honestly couldn't make it up. At first there was one awkward moment and then there were three. I don't think any of us have laughed awkwardly so much in our lives. Still I knew then as I know now ready to publish that it would one day be a good story to tell. Here's hoping that this Christmas Eve won't be quite as eventful...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx