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

Kiss And Tell!

Hello You!

Well, well, well. What a week it has been, albeit an interesting one. So after last weeks rather cathartic post which can only be described as a messy expression of what is in my head I have thought of little else. How is it dear friends, that I always seem to get myself stuck in predicaments such as these! Now I know you are just itching to find out what happened with myself and what seems so be and increasing number of people being added to what was a very dusty and empty LBB (Little Black Book). So just so we are all on the same page here - My sleepover with Mr. ToyBoy never materialised since he was 'ill' and too sick to come over (No pun intended) and so I spent my Saturday night snuggled on my sofa under numerous blankets watching trash TV and eating banana chips dipped in peanut butter - Seriously if you haven't tried it you need to, although I have yet to experiment with Jam instead of Skippy. Nevertheless my weekend continued and more-so after a disappointing Saturday night in more ways than one I spent Sunday evening in the company of Mr. Warehouse. In fact it went as far as to be the wee small hours of this morning when he finally departed. Now I am not one to kiss and tell, despite my daily trials and tribulations. Ha! Who am I kidding - That's what I do! 

I will leave it simply that I had a wonderful time in the company of someone whom I have grown quite fond of. After a few hours of talking and light flirting we ordered a take-away and for a few moments whilst plonking myself next to him on my citrus couch or fetching the sauces I felt as if I had been in that moment for years. It seemed so natural. So easy and simple. As cheesy as it sounds it felt as if it was meant to be. But for now I see Mr. Warehouse now as a close friend that I could share secrets with and tell anything too. Although there are some things I should probably shelter him and his heart from. Taking swigs from our pear Cider I could easily see this developing into one of those cosy little relationships whereby you just lounge around all day eating junk food and get progressively fat, eventually looking like you should have been classed as an extra in The Nutty Professor. Soon things got very deep and with emotional eyes ready to spill the subject was quickly changed to more benevolent matters. Flicking through an old scrap-book Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb made me for my 21st Birthday prompted me to admire how simple my days as a school girl were. As Mr. Warehouse and I paged through my documented life sandwiched into a royal blue, silk-bound book I recalled my first time and shared my experience with my date for the evening ... 

-

Another cold, blustery and slightly damp December afternoon and as the winter months drew in I was conscience that my relaxing Wednesday afternoon always felt better in the Summer when I could get away with being late home from school. My school days finished early on a Wednesday and so the ritual was to take a leisurely walk to the other side of town back to my best friend, Mr. First's family home so we could enjoy playing house whilst his mother was out at work and younger sister was still at school. Essentially just an extension of school, our midweek afternoons were spent feeding the dog potato (In which I am pretty sure your not meant to do), making the dinner and drinking sweet, milky tea. Some of my fondest memories were spent up in his attic room with his grey-marled spaniel, having playful pillow fights, gossipping about school and using an orange and our necks pretending to make-out. It was on this cold, blustery and slightly damp Wednesday afternoon in December that something happened between Mr. First and me that would forever change the dynamic of our friendship. 

Mr. First and I had finished at around lunchtime and with the usual plan to go back to his and play grown-ups still intact we headed off. As we approached the bend in the road I noted the flickering of street lamps coming on with a tinking noise as they lit up the street in the late-afternoon sun. Oddly we stopped though. Mr. First halting me in my tracks. Saying our goodbyes took longer than usual that time and I know now that this was all a matter of finding some balls. As we went to hug I suddenly saw my best friend turn his head slightly, eyes shutting I knew that this was it. This was going to be my first kiss. Outside! Alfresco! With my best guy-friend! After imagining it in secret for sometime I was secretly happy but bricking myself about what would happen. At fourteen I was completely unprepared and whilst I had watched multiple times alone in my room people make-out on films and TV I never really gave it much thought and just assumed everyone would be good at it and that the whole experience would be all fireworks, rainbows and unicorn farts! That was not the case as the name entails. Mr. First was either very inexperienced or very knowledgeable about how to do this whole 'snogging' thing! 

No where to run too and realising this was going to happen whether I wanted to or not I threw caution to the wind for one of the first times in my semi-adult life and accepted Mr. First's lips on mine. As I experienced what it was like to feel another persons tongue for the first time I noted of the slipperiness and how oddly ferocious it all was. "Oh dear lord what is this?", "How do I do it?", "Am I terrible?", "Will he laugh at me?", "Why does it taste like that?", "How am I meant to do this?" and "Where did I put the 'How To Guide'?" were all that I could think about, questions whizzing round my head like a NASCAR race. Passionate as it was I felt as if I was in a washing machine on a high setting with out the option to open the door. Getting into it I felt my face begin to ache. It had never done this before and so was not used to being stretched and tightened in such a way. It was at this point I became aware of the situation. It was getting darker and with less than a fortnight to go until Christmas I was wary that my parents would freak out again if I was not back by sundown. Panicking I must have stopped my mouth from moving in such a way to allow the kissing to continue. As we pulled away from each other I watched a dog walker glare from the other side of the street oblivious to how crucial this moment was in our young lives. Feeling the pull of home and suddenly the impact of what had just happened hitting me like a tonne of bricks I turned and ran away. Without even saying anything I ran away from the boy who gave me my first proper kiss. And I didn't stop until I got home, running all three-miles. Non-stop. 

-

I know now as a twenty-three year old that this, my first experience of kissing, is not the norm. And if for those of you it is and you too want to run away from it then please do. There is so much more to life than a bad kisser. There are the softies. The barely there kisses given usually when first getting to know someone or after an argument. Sometimes these soft smooches are given as a way of waking up a loved one in the best way someone can be woken up. Mmm, I like them. Then there are angries. Those hard, hot and heavy ones that are usually given whilst in a heated discussion or argument. Tension filled potentially angry and infected with rage those kisses are best served with lots of passion and side order of rough and maybe a little sprinkle of biting but not hard. Mmm, I like them too. And who can forget the tensioners. The kisses you have when there is a tension build up usually commencing in a 'Yes' vs. 'No' struggle of stubbornness and power to control the situation; Slowly reaching a peak whereby heads become closer, and almost to the point in which you both break out into laughter or enter into the angry kiss as before but continue the cycle round and round and round until one of you finally just says 'Fuck It' and grabs your face.

And that's another thing. When kissing what do you do with your hands and the rest of your body parts. I worry about this all the time. Whenever I am there, in the moment, enjoying (or loathing in many cases) the sensations of making out with someone, I am constantly thinking about what to do with my hands. Where do they go and what do they do? What it the limb etiquette for kissing someone tell me? For a guy its easy - Running your hands through a girls hair is sure to be a winner - At least in my case anyway. But be warned if she has a slick up-do or hair that looks as if it has been combed by a hedge then be warned, she might hit you. If in doubt always go for the neck, gently cupping her jawbone in a Hollywood inspired romantic screen kiss. Its sweet and caring and adorable and cute all at the same time whilst being a little bit controlling which is always a good thing, at least in my books. 

And so I prepare myself for tomorrow - Getting my shirt ironed, making my lunch and preparing for the questions that will ensue. But I shall never Kiss and Tell ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Age Is But A Number ...

Evening Everyone, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Circus Acts!

Hello Everybody, 

So after last week's date on Sunday I began dating in the modern world. Would 2014 be the year I finally met Mr. Right? Who knows yet, maybe I have already met them or maybe it could be a Mister from my past. All I know is that dating right now has gone from optimistic fun meeting new people and being 'story-up-staged' as I now like to call it, to the drastically different end of the spectrum in which makes me ponder exactly what I even want from my love life right now. And the fact that a certain Monsieur Cheese is never far from the forefront of my mind is never easy. 

Tuesday night I decided to spend some time with the Tweedles and we were met also with the company of Miss Stuu as well. Thankful for a good old trip to the cinema I was glad that whilst conversation was (obviously) about me and my subsequent dates, there was not too much probing. Tindering whilst on the move, I have found, has made me somewhat an addict. Swiping left and swiping right, whether it be on the bus to work, in the pub with friends or even waiting for a Tinder Date to arrive I confess I am a little hooked. I keep thinking to myself that I need a hobby, and meeting up with my Dad at the weekend only confirmed this. I have even thought about getting a bar job or scarier - Joining a gym! Either way I am going to need to occupy myself in the coming Winter months and the best use of my time I think is working towards that holiday fund. Where am I jetting off to I hear you holla? Well its not Costa Del Sol or even Faliraki. Nope. Come March 2015 I shall be hitting up the slots and shops of Vegas baby! Accompanied by Miss Tweedle Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dee's family we shall be jetting off in the spring to have a once in a lifetime opportunity to see a little bit of America! And whilst I am excited about all them burgers, sausage-legs-by-the-pool-bikini photos and bottomless all-night Starbucks, I cant help think about all them American men just ready for a bit of British Blonde! Urgh, roll on 2015! Of course this needs to pay for itself and has only really been made possible with the fact that my job at the company has now gone perm so I no longer have to worry about finances. 

But of course, you guys don't want to hear all about my boring job or even about my super-amazing-awesome trip to Vegas. You wanna hear about the dating scene and how it is all going since my Date with Mr. Moustache, the Thai-Prostitute-Marrying extraordinaire. Well as if things couldn't get worse I went on a date that would leave me wish I could run away to the circus ... NOT!

Standing outside the dodgy pub looking like one of the 'Lost and Founds' inside I started to wonder if my date would even turn up. Had I, Abbey-Louise, been stood up again? Panicking slightly I text friends to put my mind at ease. Worrying that my top was too low I shuffled from foot to foot getting agitated by the waiting game. Everyone that knows me will say that I am always late and never, ever early. I hate it. I hate the early arrival to something, not knowing if guests or other people will arrive and just generally standing around like a Lemon even though you know that they are only parking the car. It just makes me anxious and Wednesday night was no different. Spying everyone walking in or out of the Public House I couldn't clock the guy I had been messaging all week. But then, all of a sudden there he was in front of me and grinning like a Cheshire Cat, me the unbeknownst Alice. Glancing up from my phone and tucking it into my satchel I noticed one thing and one thing only - The hair! Long and curly it was tightly curled coming out from the sides and top of his head. This, coupled with the receding hairline itself and freckled cheeks resembled what can only be described as something from Stephen King's IT. OK, slight over kill there (no pun intended given the novel) but he honestly did look like a clown you would book for a seven-year-old's birthday party. Swallowing every bit of my self in one swift gulp I took the plunge and entered the pub with Mr. Krusty. Although consequentially, after my date with Mr. Krusty there has been many a banter thrown about amongst friends and family how the lack of water-squirting flowers, the colourful honking car and large footwear were all amiss from the date itself. 

Noticing a commotion I made a swift move to cover Mr. Krusty's gaze towards the drunk man being held down by four punters on the sticky bar floor. Too late. My date has noticed and whilst I try to keep the conversation going with the man behind the bar and my Date he is clearly watching the brawl now happening metres away from us. Hoping to uphold Bedford as more than just a booze-bin for the old and unemployed I mentioned the beer garden. Bad Move! After being seated I was told wondrous stories of far off lands that Mr. Krusty had performed in, sorry, visited. 'Gaap yaaar' didn't even come close to some of the things he was telling me. Stories from his time in Indian, America, China, Africa, Australia, Italy and all manner of other place teamed with adventures such bungee-jumping off rickety old rope bridges naked, skiing in the Alps and even cuddling lion cubs. I think that it was safe to say that by the time my Cider was warm, myself and Mr. Krusty would not be riding off into the sunset together. Disappointed slightly that my tales would never compare to his, I resigned myself to the fact that personality and conversational raconteur were far too established and well-travelled for me. 

As I genuinely struggled to concentrate on the fabulous adventures of my date with a circus act, I noted that a rather hairy bearded man had seated himself at a table opposite us. Clearly listening into our conversation for once I tried to blend into the background. Unfortunately being on a first date we stuck out like a sore thumb. This was not however a problem until his friend turned up. Now I would like to think I am far from naive (I'm not) but suddenly outside of the table containing two pints and a dithering will to live was a far greater story unfolding. A handful of purple twenty pound notes were exchanged for a hidden hand shake. I knew what it was but the drug dealers were not satisfied with giving away kicks, they wanted to get some of their own and so pulled up a chair or two to listen into a Date with Mr. Krusty and I. Laughing and snickering at the company I was in the coked-up criminals started to mock my Date and as a result we both took note. Ears becoming pricked we heard a slur referring Mr. Krusty's look to a TV character. Now I know that throughout this experience so far I have spoke of my drink-date with Mr. Krusty, the clown look-a-like, as something from a cartoon for kids, but that is my prerogative. I had to endure that date so I should be able to speak of it as I will without the input from smacked-up weasels looking for there next fix in the back end of a local pub. Regardless of this though I continued conversation, trying to ignore the glares from our onlookers and upon explaining that a ''Friend'' of mine (actually Mr. Cheese but somehow I realised I spoke too much of him and should now refer to him as a friend instead of The Ex) was studying Classics our audience of one spoke up whilst his friends were at the bar. 

"Classics!" The bearded man bellowed in an friendly, enquiring manner. I replied with a simple yes and attempted to continue. My Date had other ideas! 
"Are you a teacher?" Mr. Krusty asked politely. Snapping back the sunken eyed man quipped "Do I look like a teacher of Classics to you, Mate?". Trying to calm the gentleman rudely interrupting my hilarious date by clarifying his studies, rolling off terms I had investigated with my dear Mr. Cheese on lazy Sunday's only weeks ago. Sophocles and Euripides were amongst those discussed with works such as Antigone and Oedipus. For a split second I felt as though I had a little part of my Cheese back, but then I was thrown back into the moment only to realise my Date was going from bad to worse by the minute. Finishing off my pint I decided it was home time and getting up from my metal framed chair I felt wavy from the alcohol. "Am I drunk? No, I cant be ... " I thought. Walking through the hot pub and out into the cooler evening air I prepared myself for a walk home and maybe even another Tinder sesh. My date had other ideas though. 

"Do you want a lift home?" Mr. Krusty kindly asked. Mentioning how close it is to town I declined. 
"Well at least let me walk you home?" Mr. Krusty insisted. After mentioning that it was a good half hour walk to mine and that it was getting dark he still kept at it. Finally giving in I accepted his offer to walk me home. As we chatted of politics and current affairs on the way home conversation turned towards the weekend and our plans. Mr. Krusty headed up the argument for a second date with a trip to Woburn Safari Park and Zoo. Slightly sick to my stomach, I couldn't bear the thought of going to a place so special and close to my heart without Mr. Cheese. I mean that was one of the burning images and memories of a time much better and easier than the end. I declined the offer stating that the new systems coming into work would have me tied up most of Saturday and Sunday anyhow. Turning into my street I motioned for him to let me finish my journey to my door alone. The hint was not taken and thus here I was standing outside my flat making an awkward goodbye to a curly-haired ginge. 

"Can I have a kiss?" Blurted out my date as I was mid-sentence about something clearly not as important. Trying to pretend I did not hear I continued with the importance of my sentence. He said it again. I couldn't escape it this time. I had finished what I had to say and couldn't think of anything to change the subject too. I hesitated for a few minutes trying to think of a way out. Panic set in. "Who even asks for a kiss nower days? Mr. Cheese didn't ask for a kiss, he just went for it. Why are men so British!" I thought as I tried to think of a nicer way to say no. I couldn't and before the poor mite asked again I just said yes and prayed to a god that doesn't exist that it would all be over soon and I would be hopelessly laughing and crying about it to the Tweedles. Following up what was honestly a pleasant smooch with the casual and somewhat now awkward farewells I turned and walked inside my front door. Collapsing on my couch I surrendered myself to yet another unsuccessful date. After a optimistic outlook from Miss Tweedle-Dee over the phone I made some dinner and then proceeded to my covers to sleep off the Scrumpy before work tomorrow. Rule number four about dating and life in general: Never drink on a school night. 

As the end of the working week approached I rounded off my week with some casual drinks with a male colleague from work on Friday night. Leaving the office I was told by the Office-Bods to play nice and not to bite too hard - whatever that meant. I knew since that first initial meeting on our works night out that Mr. Warehouse was clearly infatuated with me. God knows why. But somehow he had plucked up all his courage to ask me on a date. Throwing caution to the wind and knowing that no matter what happens at least it is an experience that can later be reflected on in writing to the world in my weekly blogg, I said yes. Truth be told it had been set up as a cosmopolitan date, playing pool and drinking pints in a quiet local pub near where we both worked, although my initial throughout the date I felt more and more that it was just another after work drink with friends. There was some mild flirting and I definitely did not hold back on my story telling, bedroom adventures included! We spoke at length about stuff that was irrelevant in retrospect but also about work and our interests. All in all it was probably the best date I have been on so far this year (excluding the dates including Mr. Cheese, they don't count). I suppose as I waited in the beer garden for Mr. Warehouse to arrive I was calmer and more relaxed than before, maybe in the knowledge that after Date Number One turning out to be possibly still married to a Asian Prostitute and Date Number Two being an extra from Zippo's Circus, Date Number Three couldn't get much worse. I enjoyed myself and there was even a bashful period of constant laughter, something I can not remember ever doing with Mr. Cheese. 

Whether a second date is on the cards for Mr. Warehouse and I, I don't know. Second date is a big thing, I suppose it means that you find them at least in some way boyfriend material. But I am just not sure if I want that right now. I think I am far more bruised than I thought about Mr. Cheese's departure and sites of Bedford bridges in the summer sun at the Bedford River Festival at the weekend, teamed with photo's of Darlington Station don't help. I suppose in a way I have to accept, whether I like it or not, that despite our tracks crossing, the train has now left. 

'Til Next Time, Love A.Lou xx

College Days!

Hi There, 

Another week down and only a few more left until Christmas is here and already I'm like a kid in a sweet shop. So after a lazy weekend in decorating my little flat with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and having a good old girlie sleepover I am glad to have time to myself this weekend what with not seeing Mr. Cheese and all. Its not that we didn't want to see each other because we did, it was just the fact that getting anywhere on public transport in the UK is such a ball-ache and so very expensive. Although a quiet weekend in has left me craving another night out with my fellow single wing-women, Miss Chocolate. Oh the fun we used to have in college, or outside of it as the case may be. We had some wild times, most of which was fuelled by alcohol and exploits of a naughty nature. It was on one of these occasions that I fell arse over tit for a boy whose wardrobe was more colourful than Elton Johns and had more complications that flat pack furniture. Meet Mr. Babycakes ... 

Ever since I first started College back in September 2009 there have been many people that I fancied that have come and gone with the change in seasons. It was my first few months in College where I met one of my closest friends, Miss Chocolate. At first she wasn't my cup of tea but after spending a few projects larking around and filming together we soon became the best of friends. She knew all my secrets including who I was crushing on and all the gossip and drama that came with it. And despite being labelled the 'married couple' of our year we had some laughs including our first College trip away. Up until the last day of our College trip had been a bit of a downer. Whilst the filming was fun and exciting and I enjoyed being in front of the camera I was missing home and my Dad especially. It was very unlike me to get home-sick, but somehow I was. The last day of the holiday was upon us and as filming commenced I thought about how the holiday had gone and as the clapper went down our Tutor yelled it was a wrap and we all hugged and cheered before heading off to get ready for the after-parties that followed. 

I didn't really feel in the party mood and hadn't really brought anything to wear anyhow. "I'll just sit in with a good book" I thought. Be a loner. As everyone left our Tutors Chalet come Studio to start a night of complete mayhem and drinking I stayed behind to change out of my costume and back into normal clothes. Mr. Babycakes, my on-screen boyfriend; Who was that last person to leave and just before I went to change I asked him to wait for me so I wouldn't be alone. He obliged and stuck about until I was finished changing. We left our Tutor's 'Studio' shortly after and Mr. Babycakes offered to walk me back to the Chalet I shared with Miss Chocolate and some other College friends. As I explained that I didn't have the key so there would be not much point we started to walk in the freezing night air. It started to rain and it wasn't before long that I was shivering and getting wet. Kindly, Mr. Babycakes slipped his arm around my waist and I copied. We were a friendly bunch in College; always hugging and kissing one another so this whilst felt romantic and lovely didn't come across as such at first. 

Walking along the gravel roads that crunched beneath our feet I explained that there really was no point in us going back to mine without a key and if we wanted it then we would have to walk all the way down to the sea front in the freezing and now getting heavier down pour to collect it. Suddenly we stopped outside an unfamiliar and vacant Chalet and Mr. Babycakes mentioned how he thought I was cold. I said that I was and he quickly hugged me, unzipping his Mr. Babycakeset and wrapping me in it. This meant that we were now very, very close. I liked it. In fact, I liked him. From the moment we first started college in September I had fancied him, but he was pushed aside as I was in a different group to him as well as social status too. But nevertheless I wasn't complaining about being this close to him, and apparently, neither was he. Mr. Babycakes asked me if there was anything wrong, I had seemed a bit dull and upset. I explained that it was my character to be gloomy and bitter. He replied smartly with something about if it had anything to do with missing my Dad. I agreed. How did he know that? Miss Chocolate probably, I know she would have been trying to get us talking more what with me crushing on him a little. With this he gave me a cuddle. I love his cuddles; he was so gentle and sweet. Our heads started to become very close. Very, very close and it wasn't long before our foreheads and noses were touching as we gazed into each other’s eyes. in the crisp, wet twilight. 

"We probably shouldn’t be here; it’s a family Chalet, mines just over here." I said taking some much needed control of the situation. Together, Mr. Babycakes and I continued to walk along the gravely path towards my Chalet, talking about my Dad and filming over the past week. Once we arrived I trotted up and past the front window and I wrestled with the door handle. The lights were on but there was no-one home. Everyone was out and the doors were locked. "As they should be" I thought, my laptop is in there. And again we found ourselves entwined together hugging and cuddling as I rested my head on his shoulder, nearly ready to fall asleep as I felt so comfortable with him. Mr. Babycakes and I stood there in a warm embrace for what seemed like ages. Stood there, directly in between the two lit doors to the Chalet I did not possess a key to. As I pulled away from the hug I caught his eyes and instantly forgot what I was about to say and just stared as he did too. Shiny and blue like a polished gem. The silence was finally broken when he quietly whispered the fact that our on screen kiss was knocked off the schedule after he fell ill on the second day of filming and we had to cast another person to play the part. 

Typical me and without thinking; I shocked both of us when I said in a husky voice that we could just kiss anyway. Mr. Babycakes seemed to enjoy what I had just said and took it as the green light to continue with anything else he had in mind. I soon realised what I had said and apologised and yet again I was interrupted by his sparkly eyes. Slowly the sentence trailed off as our heads began to move closer together, and as we commenced the part where our skin touched our heads started to lean to one side my mind was screaming with joy! As it started to rain heavier our lips locked, and we began to kiss passionately under the night sky. We continued to kiss for a long time, gently testing the waters. Suddenly my ears pricked up and apart from the rain I could hear footsteps in the wet gravel. Big footsteps. Heavy and very nearly upon us. Not wanting to get caught canoodling I reluctantly pulled away and as Mr. Babycakes collected himself a friend of Miss Chocolate’s walked round the corner waving a shiny, silver key. With a fag in his mouth Miss Chocolate’s associate handed me the key and I let us all in, grateful for the warmth. Pulling out my stash of smuggled alcohol I asked if my key-bearer was staying. 

"Nah can’t stay. Our Tutor is having a wrap party over at his, he's finished filming. Are you coming?" The key-man asked, his cigarette bouncing up and down like mad as he continued to talk with it hanging out of his mouth. I declined. As he left I locked the door, unsure as to why I was locking it and when I was going to be unlocking it and what would be happening in between then and now. A short silence was raising its head as I asked if Mr. Babycakes was leaving too. He too declined. I asked if he would like a drink. He said yes. As I went to pour the Vodka into tumblers, Mr. Babycakes broke the quietness with a question. 

"OK, well we can either forget that ever happened as of tomorrow or continue with it and go with the flow?" I stopped in my tracks as he said this and began to reflect upon what I should say. "Forget it tomorrow? Surely if you’re going to forget something you would forget it now, wouldn't you?" I said as a smile played across my face. I looked over to him and he looked uncomfortable and not sure as to what to say to explain himself. I don't think Mr. Babycakes expected such an answer to come back. “Touche” I thought. As I handed him a drink and took my seat next to him on the couch. Instantly I turned to face him, paying no attention at all to the television that he had switched on upon his arrival. No sooner than I had a chance to sit down and the flirting and teasing commenced. It started with playful hand and knee touching as we talked, progressing further to full blown seductiveness in everything that we did. 

I would play with his hair as he whispered in my ear. I would lean in close and reply in hushed tones. Mr. Babycakes seemed to enjoy this, a little more than one should when he has prior engagements. Nevertheless he didn't decline to my advances and proceeded to tell me exactly what they were doing to him, keeping no graphic details to himself. This in turn lead us to kissing again and this time I decided to turn up the heat a bit by softly biting his lower lip. Surprisingly you would think that he might want to pull away, since it is me that were on about here. Not exactly Sleeping Beauty am I. But for some unknown reason that I was not planning to confront, he didn't. Now you may be starting to think that this was happening all because of that drink. Well you would be wrong. I had one sip before sitting down with him and Mr. Babycakes hadn't even bothered with his. We were both completely sober. So you can imagine my amazement when he had told me that I was a good girl and I needed a treat. And yes. Indeed he did class that as a treat for me and not at all a for himself. Mr. Babycakes and I teased for the majority of the evening, seeing how far we could push each other. Turns out the floors the limit. With my knees firmly fixed in the short pile of my seaside Chalet. 

Standing back in the lounge of the Chalet I prepared to go outside and into the cold night air again by shoving on my coat and boots. When Mr. Babycakes wasn’t looking, I quickly took a swig of neat vodka to cushion the blow I had just encountered. As I turned to collect the keys from the sideboard, Mr. Babycakes gave me a hug but as we pulled away he went in to kiss me. I turned away positive that he would not approve of the lingering taste in my mouth. He looked at me and gathered what I was trying to say. Then he simply kissed me softly on my cheek. I think at that point I had melted and realised that I wanted him all to myself. Mr. Babycakes kissed me several times on the cheek before we left, departing separate ways to our own group of peers saying that we needed to exchange numbers sometime. 

Oh yes. How myself and Miss Chocolate had some gossip to share in College. I'm surprised we passed. I am sure that we have many more years to party on as wing-man and wing-woman. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx