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
Showing posts with label Friends With Benefits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends With Benefits. Show all posts
Monday, 6 October 2014
Monday, 11 August 2014
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
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
Monday, 4 August 2014
The Drought!
Morning All,
So with last week melancholy nature well and truly put to rest (no pun intended) and with my addiction to boys slightly scarred by the previous few date I have been on I have officially picked myself up and am ready to start again with dating - In more ways than one!
More than six-weeks have passed since I was last laid. Six Weeks! I didn't even know such a drought could happen like this. But whilst I wonder every night laying there drifting off listening to cats killing themselves or my middle-aged neighbours (whom I am pretty sure are swingers) my thoughts turn to why I am not hanging off the end of my black iron bed-frame. I am single. Still. Now this would not be such a bad thing but I feel that in some respects I am more highly sexed than your average female and as a result when I don't get it I end up tense, achy and stressed constantly. The effects of not having regular bodily stimulation takes on a physical as well as mental toll on my gorgeous body (Ironic there you see! Aha). Like today at work. I nearly hid under my desk from all my problem emails and phone-calls but instead I took my lunch and ate Cous Cous to which everyone from the office and adjacent warehouse now thinks I am a Toff! Mental note for future - You know you need to get some when you are reaching for the Ainsley Harriott Red Pepper Couscous in the supermarket. Step away from the freeze-dried goods aisle and hit me up someone on Tinder! And yes I am still addicted ...
Now whilst being single is definitely not a problem, in fact I think I much prefer myself out of a relationship, at least one that was as stifling as the last one I encountered; I still find that my needs are not being met. You see I am unfortunately a girl whom is unable to satisfy herself. Odd as it sounds and as strange as it may be I have never taken much pleasure in twilight antics of a lone nature. I find it tedious and boring. Its not that I don't like it, its just I don't see the point if I am alone. Besides, for moi, it is so much more thrilling and exciting when it is with someone else. Especially when you have been with that person a fair amount of time and you know that they have the history and skills to bring you there but sometimes just choose to keep you just beneath the peak for pure torturous pleasure until you beg them to stop. Even when your begging it doesn't always have to end. If you have a strong partner who can keep his (or her) cool then asking for something and not getting it is almost as exhilarating sending you into a wild frenzy, just itching for that release. I also have never experienced 'The Big O' yet. Now many men have tried, but most I feel have failed in there quest to bring me that wave of heat and excitement. Disappointing as it is I know that I may be one of the many women of this wonderful planet that never ever get to feel what it is like. But then again a question I always ask my friends - How do you know? I may well have had one and never even known about it. The annoying thing about all of this is that if anyone was even close to getting me there it would have been Mr. Workaholic or Mr. Cheese both of which are slightly absent right now!
Frustrating as this all is I know that I cannot wholly become fixated on what happens between the sheets. Whilst sex is a fairly sizable part of my relationship with someone, I understand that it isn't for everyone. I need someone who I can have fun with. Something fresh and new, exciting and clean (or filthy). I want to feel giddy and woozy as well as the horn. Am I looking for Love or am I just looking for a good time? This is the question that has been battling me for several weeks now and I feel that now is the time to decide. A boyfriend is just scary and not a necessity I really can deal with right now. A relationship (of sorts) that can be loose and free within reason is something I am tempted by. It intrigues me and teases me with all the possibilities it entails. As time passes by and the longer the dry spell continues the less my 'Number' seems to matter to me. I mean, I could always lie about how many people have seen the downstairs. I remember someone telling me a rule of thumb once - Divide your 'Number' by three and then add one?! That brings me out to 3.33 recurring. How does that work?
Maybe I need to work backwards rather than forwards with this whole dating thing! Start with the sex and see if it leads anywhere good. And whilst I like the idea of a NSA (No Strings Attached) set up I know it would be unlikely to work for both parties. An NSA programme is good in theory but it can never work when you live somewhere like Bedford where men that are pleasing to the eye are scarce. Plus I think that in the long run it would make me unhappy stuck with someone who I will inevitably fall head over heels for only to realise they like the back of my head rather than the front. If I wanted just sex I would have found that weeks ago but I am not. So what the hell am I looking for? Maybe I am therefore looking for a friends with benefits thing. The two are very different as I have come to discover. Where NSA sex is very much what it says on the tin - wham bam thank you ma'am; a friends with benefits situation is much more pleasant I feel. A place whereby if left long enough and seeds planted a fruitful, loving, nurturing relationship could blossom. The thing that I probably enjoyed most about the first few months with Mr. Cheese was simply having the freedom to do as a single girl can whilst having someone to snuggle up with and go on dates to the local ice-cream parlour. I want the cuddles at night, the spooning, the curled up TV days and the giggles and play-fights that turn into lazy but mind-blowing weekend afternoon sex. Yes, that is where I want to be.
Naturally I invest too much in people. even in dates that are not dates. It was only just this last weekend I spoke to Miss Tweedle-Dumb of a few dates lined up in the coming weeks jokingly mentioning how Abbey *Insert Last Name* sounds blissfully better than the last few. And as my dear best friend looked at me oddly I secretly envisioned our entire wedding day together like something from a girlie Rom-Com! I seem to start making the omelette before I have even loaded up my egg basket never mind how much is in it. Always thinking far too much into stuff and not letting things go with the flow. As my father said to me the other day after nearly an hour of showing him how to use Tinder that I should slow down and stop hunting for something that will make itself known when it is ready. Pappa Bear explained that I should take a moment for myself and remember that although I am nearly twenty-three, my clock still has a lot of tick left in it. Throughout what he was saying I knew he was being truthful but it still didn't silence that little part of me that thinks that if I reach thirty and am not at least married then I will defiantly be eaten by Alsations by the time I reach thirty-two. He told me I should be young and free, making mistakes and cringingly laughing about them with friends over a bottle of wine or two. I think he was talking about Love, but it could well have been a moment of insanity in which I seem to indulge in - Alot!
And with this in mind I my thoughts immediately turn to a naughty little thing I did the other day. An UnDate - Basically Date that is not a Date or whereby one of the attendees does not acknowledge the alterer motives of such a meeting with said other party. Make sense? Probably not. But not too worry all will be revealed soon after my trip to Ireland but for the time being I can't spill too much, but all I can say is that I better get some oven mittens because I could quite well get burnt by this one ...
''Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
So with last week melancholy nature well and truly put to rest (no pun intended) and with my addiction to boys slightly scarred by the previous few date I have been on I have officially picked myself up and am ready to start again with dating - In more ways than one!
More than six-weeks have passed since I was last laid. Six Weeks! I didn't even know such a drought could happen like this. But whilst I wonder every night laying there drifting off listening to cats killing themselves or my middle-aged neighbours (whom I am pretty sure are swingers) my thoughts turn to why I am not hanging off the end of my black iron bed-frame. I am single. Still. Now this would not be such a bad thing but I feel that in some respects I am more highly sexed than your average female and as a result when I don't get it I end up tense, achy and stressed constantly. The effects of not having regular bodily stimulation takes on a physical as well as mental toll on my gorgeous body (Ironic there you see! Aha). Like today at work. I nearly hid under my desk from all my problem emails and phone-calls but instead I took my lunch and ate Cous Cous to which everyone from the office and adjacent warehouse now thinks I am a Toff! Mental note for future - You know you need to get some when you are reaching for the Ainsley Harriott Red Pepper Couscous in the supermarket. Step away from the freeze-dried goods aisle and hit me up someone on Tinder! And yes I am still addicted ...
Now whilst being single is definitely not a problem, in fact I think I much prefer myself out of a relationship, at least one that was as stifling as the last one I encountered; I still find that my needs are not being met. You see I am unfortunately a girl whom is unable to satisfy herself. Odd as it sounds and as strange as it may be I have never taken much pleasure in twilight antics of a lone nature. I find it tedious and boring. Its not that I don't like it, its just I don't see the point if I am alone. Besides, for moi, it is so much more thrilling and exciting when it is with someone else. Especially when you have been with that person a fair amount of time and you know that they have the history and skills to bring you there but sometimes just choose to keep you just beneath the peak for pure torturous pleasure until you beg them to stop. Even when your begging it doesn't always have to end. If you have a strong partner who can keep his (or her) cool then asking for something and not getting it is almost as exhilarating sending you into a wild frenzy, just itching for that release. I also have never experienced 'The Big O' yet. Now many men have tried, but most I feel have failed in there quest to bring me that wave of heat and excitement. Disappointing as it is I know that I may be one of the many women of this wonderful planet that never ever get to feel what it is like. But then again a question I always ask my friends - How do you know? I may well have had one and never even known about it. The annoying thing about all of this is that if anyone was even close to getting me there it would have been Mr. Workaholic or Mr. Cheese both of which are slightly absent right now!
Frustrating as this all is I know that I cannot wholly become fixated on what happens between the sheets. Whilst sex is a fairly sizable part of my relationship with someone, I understand that it isn't for everyone. I need someone who I can have fun with. Something fresh and new, exciting and clean (or filthy). I want to feel giddy and woozy as well as the horn. Am I looking for Love or am I just looking for a good time? This is the question that has been battling me for several weeks now and I feel that now is the time to decide. A boyfriend is just scary and not a necessity I really can deal with right now. A relationship (of sorts) that can be loose and free within reason is something I am tempted by. It intrigues me and teases me with all the possibilities it entails. As time passes by and the longer the dry spell continues the less my 'Number' seems to matter to me. I mean, I could always lie about how many people have seen the downstairs. I remember someone telling me a rule of thumb once - Divide your 'Number' by three and then add one?! That brings me out to 3.33 recurring. How does that work?
Maybe I need to work backwards rather than forwards with this whole dating thing! Start with the sex and see if it leads anywhere good. And whilst I like the idea of a NSA (No Strings Attached) set up I know it would be unlikely to work for both parties. An NSA programme is good in theory but it can never work when you live somewhere like Bedford where men that are pleasing to the eye are scarce. Plus I think that in the long run it would make me unhappy stuck with someone who I will inevitably fall head over heels for only to realise they like the back of my head rather than the front. If I wanted just sex I would have found that weeks ago but I am not. So what the hell am I looking for? Maybe I am therefore looking for a friends with benefits thing. The two are very different as I have come to discover. Where NSA sex is very much what it says on the tin - wham bam thank you ma'am; a friends with benefits situation is much more pleasant I feel. A place whereby if left long enough and seeds planted a fruitful, loving, nurturing relationship could blossom. The thing that I probably enjoyed most about the first few months with Mr. Cheese was simply having the freedom to do as a single girl can whilst having someone to snuggle up with and go on dates to the local ice-cream parlour. I want the cuddles at night, the spooning, the curled up TV days and the giggles and play-fights that turn into lazy but mind-blowing weekend afternoon sex. Yes, that is where I want to be.
Naturally I invest too much in people. even in dates that are not dates. It was only just this last weekend I spoke to Miss Tweedle-Dumb of a few dates lined up in the coming weeks jokingly mentioning how Abbey *Insert Last Name* sounds blissfully better than the last few. And as my dear best friend looked at me oddly I secretly envisioned our entire wedding day together like something from a girlie Rom-Com! I seem to start making the omelette before I have even loaded up my egg basket never mind how much is in it. Always thinking far too much into stuff and not letting things go with the flow. As my father said to me the other day after nearly an hour of showing him how to use Tinder that I should slow down and stop hunting for something that will make itself known when it is ready. Pappa Bear explained that I should take a moment for myself and remember that although I am nearly twenty-three, my clock still has a lot of tick left in it. Throughout what he was saying I knew he was being truthful but it still didn't silence that little part of me that thinks that if I reach thirty and am not at least married then I will defiantly be eaten by Alsations by the time I reach thirty-two. He told me I should be young and free, making mistakes and cringingly laughing about them with friends over a bottle of wine or two. I think he was talking about Love, but it could well have been a moment of insanity in which I seem to indulge in - Alot!
And with this in mind I my thoughts immediately turn to a naughty little thing I did the other day. An UnDate - Basically Date that is not a Date or whereby one of the attendees does not acknowledge the alterer motives of such a meeting with said other party. Make sense? Probably not. But not too worry all will be revealed soon after my trip to Ireland but for the time being I can't spill too much, but all I can say is that I better get some oven mittens because I could quite well get burnt by this one ...
''Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx
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