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

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

Not A Cloud In The Sky

Hello everyone, 

So I know that for many of you this week's will be very much an anticipated post about life thus far since Mr. Cheese got home from his Greek adventures. I have even had Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee emailing me their own rendition of things. Well here's hoping you wont be disappointed ...

After finishing work early I headed straight to the shops for some much needed alcohol for the impending night out with Miss Chocolate. Why did I leave work early? Because I thought I had an interview. But as per usual I had muddled it up and booked the wrong day off. It was in fact for Monday morning. Irrespective of my inaccuracy I bagged the job and am now working as a Credit Controller for a large industrial machinery company. I know what your thinking - Nine months and four jobs. But what can I say, I like the change! Heading back home to collect my things for the night out I mooched about until it was time to leave. Upon arrival to Miss Chocolate's abode I wasted no time in getting stuck into pre-drinking and talking about life in general. We discussed my upcoming birthday plans and of course my date the following day with Mr. Cheese. As we kept talking, in between taking selfies and putting on make-up, the drinks continued to be poured and before long I was well on my way to loosing all inhibitions. Soon after we left in a cab and arrived at the club in due time but not before stopping off and having a healing from a god-squader who wore very long fake nails and had a head tattoo. Straight to the bar a necked a few before dashing to the dance floor. 

After a few hours and even more drinks I had thought it would be a good idea to email Mr. Cheese although the content of which I am unable to recall. Probably something about dancing and drinking far too much. Throughout this though Miss Chocolate and I have been dancing the hours away with some very dodgy characters, one of which was walking around a fairly packed nightclub with nothing less than a hard-on. Only in Luton would that be acceptable. Nevertheless our night continued. Dancing along suddenly I was approached from behind (No pun intended and anyone who knows me personally knows that this scares me greatly) and grabbed my hand. pulling me in for a hug he whispered in my ear "Follow my lead". Confused I didn't have time to think before he whirled me around the sticky, tiled floor. A space in the crowd formed and in seconds I had turned into a dancing pro; tapping my feet to the Charleston, Mamba and the Waltz. Who was this weirdo though and what did he want? Well apparently he wanted to buy me a drink. I obliged and we headed to the bar. Small talk followed and then the drinks. Not one. Not two. Not three. But four drinks. Granted two were intended for Miss Chocolate but since she didn't like the chosen beverage I adopted it to my bloodstream instead. After some sneaking around Me and Miss Chocolate scurried away from our drinks dispenser and found a quiet corner to guzzle. He found us though and wanted to tell me how rude it was to run away. I explained to him loudly how buying me a drink does not mean I am forced to spend the rest of the night with him and indeed leave with him either. He soon left me to my alcohol and wing-women. 

The night progressed and as it did the more photo's and the more emails were sent, although this was not my only concern of the night. According to legend there was many a frog in the club that night and only a fair maiden such as myself (don't laugh) could cure them of such hideous facial disfigurement. Safe to say no amount of drunken kisses could make them more handsome and so in the small hours of Saturday morning Miss Chocolate and I left for our beds, but not before being followed out of the nightclub and nearly out the doors by one frog in particular obviously wanting more. Smiling and waving as I left I knew that my ego was growing out of control, but by morning came it was back to the usual uninhibited self. 

Finally after spending the morning being shouted at by Miss Chocolate to get up and out of bed I left for London, Jelly Belly well in-toe. Shaved, trimmed, tidied and ready in case anything was to happen and we just couldn't continue with the day until our sexual appetite was satisfied. And so as I approached the grey, shininess of the city there he was to great me, as promised underneath the romantic Marble Arch on the edge of London's Hyde Park. Although I was twenty-odd minutes late he didn't seem to mind and we embraced and talked of our time apart. It was all planned out in my head. We would start off with a picnic by the Serpentine and then head to the Natural History Museum for a potter. Why I hear you ask? Well my dear's Mr. Cheese is very clever and studied ancient Greek history at university. Now since there wasn't a ancient Greek history museum in London that he hadn't been to I thought I would tie in his love of history and Zebra's to make it the best choice next to the Zoo which wouldn't be great if it was raining. As we walked around the green flower gardens of Hyde Park it was at this point my home-made picnic fit for a king and queen was beginning to get heavy. I suggested a pretty spot by the Thames to eat our picnic but after a heavy night of drinking my stomach still did not agree with food but even still I picked until I was satisfied I had dented the amount I brought. 

The rest of the day was spent walking round the expensive shopping quarters in the west of the city stopping off at a cafe for tea and cake. I settled for fruit juice as the belly still didn't know where I was. Hours flew by and I was enjoying myself being around Mr. Cheese although it did take me most the day to pluck up the courage to hold his hand. Naaw! But before long we had dinner in front of us at a simple yet contemporary fish and chip shop in Covent Garden, somewhere a little townie such as my self had never been to before. As the twilight crept in we continued our city tour in under the cover of darkness and the London lights, stopping off at Trafalgar Square, seeing Big Ben, and the Eye, Piccadilly Circus and Nelson's Column. The only thing we missed out on my trip to the capital was Buckingham Palace - But seriously who can complain when you have a cute guy kissing you sweetly beneath the twinkling and bustling action of London Town?

I know what you are all wondering now though. Where did it go? Well I am never one to kiss and tell (at least not yet anyway) although I shall tell you that after an excuse of a nice cuppa we did in fact end up back at Mr. Cheese's very, very nice flat in West London. Surprisingly though,  for a male in his early twenties there are no naked girls plastered on his bedroom walls, only innocent photo's of friends and family. Oh and flags. I think he is a bit obsessed with flags?! Hmmm. But yes I digress. After tea we talked and gradually things started to simmer and whilst the pot didn't boil over as expected or anticipated it was a nice and lovely. Maybe Mr. Cheese has left room for the pot to explode next time we meet which will be this weekend? Oh I do hope so! More than half a year without some hard, hot action and I am in need of a good session that will leave me exhausted and content not disappointed and flat like last time. 

I woke up at 5am on Sunday morning feeling awful and knowing that I couldn't be sick in Mr. Cheese's lovely home I planned on leaving early. Sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him whilst he snoozed (I'm not weird OK everyone does that ... Right?!) I realised that maybe we had made a huge mistake letting things get this far. Was it too soon? Is this the best thing to do? Where do we even go from now? Is this it? To be honest I don't think that really helped my Jelly Belly situation and instantaneously I felt a wave of sickness from the realisation of what had happened the previous night and the serious questions that followed. Mr. Cheese soon woke though and made me melt when he simply rolled over and kissed me on the forehead before asking if I was hungry or wanted tea. Maybe this was it after all? I declined Mr. Cheese's offer and explained I would be leaving soon, although that soon changed when I decided his chest wig and cute tee-pee moob's was much more comfy than the long train journey home. I finally left just after lunch time, although a quick exit was induced as Mr Cheese's flat mate got back from her own escapades just minutes after finishing round three.

All in all though a wonderful weekend of naked cuddles, tender kisses and whispered sweet nothings all topped off with enough pillow talk to smother an elephant. However the questions still prevail; Was it too soon? Is this it? Where do we go from now? All these things. All happening at once. Finally maybe my luck is changing and it seems as I look up theoretically the sun is out and there is not a cloud in the sky ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Passion, Persistence and Puke!

Afternoon Everyone, 

So all is well in the world this week. My dilemma essentially has resolved itself as I choose my head over my heart (for once). This has been made maybe slightly easier by the fact that the 'Mystery Man' otherwise now referred to as Mr. Welsh has not been in contact with me since. Although I think that maybe Mr. Cheese may be something worth investigating further - Especially as how things have been ramped up a gear ...

So since our date last week with Mr. Cheese I was struggling with the fact that whilst I tried to tell him through body language that I wasn't comfortable with kissing on a first date he still went in for it and kissed me anyway. Not that it was an awful 'washing machine' experience like some other frogs I have kissed, but as already explained last week was sweet and innocent. We had made plans to meet a week on, however after both Mr. Cheese and I found ourselves at a loose end on Friday night we decided to spend the evening together; And so I had a wonderful evening out in a quaint little Italian restaurant in town. I think the staff could tell we were a 'new pairing' and made all their efforts to make us feel comfortable. Not that I paid much attention to the staff, especially when I have the company of Mr. Cheese rambling on about the appreciation of hats, zebra's and other madness that I thought only I possessed. 

Finally I have found a fellow foodie that doesn't just survive on chicken dinosaurs and potato smiles for breakfast, lunch and frigging dinner like Mr. Workaholic. Although, until your in that position, you never know just how difficult it is to eat a salad gracefully is when the bowl it comes in is lopsided and you have half the Amazon in there too. Desperately trying to cram a forkful of leaves and chicken into your face-hole before your date look's up from his own delicious meal is very hard but I think I got the hang of it. Maybe that's what the staff we smiling about, that funny little women in the corner wrestling with the artistically ridiculous bowl that is completely impractical. Following my wrestling match came an indulgent pudding of Tiramisu and Profiteroles shared with my date, Mr. Cheese. And so there we sat, for once barely saying a thing as we ate our desserts with twinkles in our eyes, slowly licking the spoon and twisting our tongues round a silver fork. As if it couldn't get more intense, Mr. Cheese revealed how one of his siblings would probably be spying from another restaurant across the road, trying to get a glimpse of the action. 

After dinner we made a swift exit hoping not to be caught sight of by Mr. Cheese's brother and made it to the safe haven of a local pub. From the outside it didn't look too busy and so we went in. Sod's law would say that as soon as we walked in it was packed to the rafters and after buying a couple of drinks we spent the rest of the evening there, right up until closing time. We talked thoroughly about everything and anything. But then came the subject of what happened to the 'Ex'. Sweetly and as if not to impose, Mr. Cheese simply hinted at the question so as not to scare or upset me, and, since he himself had opened up about his ex-girlfriend (who sounds like a boring-arse anyhow) I felt compelled to tell him. So for the first time in many, many months I let loose and took myself back to a rainy Friday evening in April last year when my world caved in on itself. I didn't cry, although I did feel very emotional and I think I would have if I had not stopped at certain parts of the story. 

At that moment most men I would have expected to pop on their running shoes and make a swift dash for the exit but Mr. Cheese did not. He stayed put. He comforted me with wise words on how, as I had always hoped, that Mr. Workaholic had lost the best thing that ever happened to him. So sweet we sat in that beer garden surrounded by very loud, drunken, middle-aged people and we talked away for hours. It almost seemed that everyone else just melted away and we were the only two in the world. I loved it. Everything was so relaxed and laid back. My worries of getting serious and falling were suddenly gone and both Mr. Cheese and I agreed that we liked things how they were and not to change them until we were both ready. 

After last orders were called I invited him back to mine where we simply kissed and he called a cab. And that was it, but for some odd reason my bed felt comfier that night, softer than ever before and I fell into a deep sleep. Saturday morning came and went as I passed most of the day lounging in bed listening to old songs thinking about the future with someone other than my Mr. Workaholic. It then suddenly dawned on me. I was thinking about sex. But not just general sex, I was thinking about soft and passionate embraces, lust-filled and exciting with someone other than my Ex! Oh what a feeling it is to realise you are now free from his wretch'ed face! Nevertheless I had to get up at some point as I was meant to be joining Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb on a night out with an old acquaintance of theirs, Miss Stuu. Sadly though we never made it to the planned night out as both me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb had subsequently redecorated the inside of Miss Stuu's mothers car. I have never felt guilt like it and both me and the Tweedle's were in bed by ten that night.  

Sunday morning broke and it suddenly dawned on me that date number three is on the horizon. I checked my phone as it bleeped with four messages from what appeared to be a very, very intoxicated Mr. Cheese. Laughing along with Miss Tweedle-Dumb we set a time where we would both be able to make some sort of recovery. Making the journey back to Bedford with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, stopping en-route for a burger from a fast food chain the conversation soon turned to relationships and where things were destining for me and my Cheesey friend, although thankfully I was able to just shrug it off with a few simple answers, although in my head I hoped that maybe in the future something good would come of me muddling up my bridges and meeting that quirky Mr. Cheese.

Arriving home I changed, showered and beautified myself before spending the late afternoon wandering round the parks and rivers of Bedford with Mr. Cheese on our third date. A wonderful afternoon, only to be topped off with a fiery evening of making out on my sofa. It could have gone a lot further if I wanted it. Hell, it could have gone all the way if I hadn't kept cool and collected. Although I would be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed that we didn't fall asleep together that night. It sounds so simple when writing that we just made out - But for nearly three hours he made me feel like a million dollars. Sweet kisses to my neck and bust made me giddy with excitement and anticipation. I had not felt like that in years and can barely remember a time when Mr. Workaholic had made me feel so wanted. Although just as the passion was taking a hold and the intense sexual chemistry hit a peak whilst Mr. Cheese and I straddled one another on the floor kissing madly I murdered the moment by asking when the last train was. Probably should have kept quiet given the heat of the moment. I didn't want him to miss the last train back to London where he lives though and in all honestly wanted to wait for a few more dates until I 'put out'.

And so Mr. Cheese left. Although this time there shall be a long gap between our next encounters since the jammy bastard is off on a fortnight long, all expenses paid, family holiday  to the hot and luscious islands of Greece. Well I think Greece is an island? (Hmmm) So now I wait and think about what could have been but also of what might be. Where will this go and will it end like last time? I shall have to wait and see, but I am positive that Cupid has well and truly got us with his arrow ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

And So The Battle Commences ...

Morning All,

So I am writing this earlier than usually. Quite simply two reasons. One - I am convinced that my neighbours are having sex which depresses me in so many ways as I feel that I have been now celibate for at least eight months now and that I could practically join a nunnery and become god's 'Lady in Waiting'. And number two is a dilemma which I can only see getting more and more difficult as time progresses. Firstly though before I go on I should probably start from the beginning. Yes. That would help ...

So last week was all about getting settled in and preparing for the enormous weekend ahead. Unfortunately Miss Chocolate was ill so all Friday frolics were postponed until further notice. I did however end up spending the night with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in her room watching an old comedy film. It was suggested that after we would play a game of 'gay chicken' although I am still unsure fully of what it is all about I am pretty adamant I would win! Saturday afternoon was spent trawling round  a shopping mall darting from store to store praying that Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I would find something suitable and in our size for the Wrap Party in London later on in the evening. It had been decided early on in the week that we would just get the train home after the party. I mean its not like anything fun would happen right? Wrong ...

After frantically spending more time than originally thought getting ready and as usual I was running late, both me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb made it to the station just in time to catch the fast train. Sipping on cocktails on the way down I knew that it was going to be good night. I was looking forward to seeing all the fresh faces and enjoying the atmosphere of a high-end City bar. Upon arrival, Me and the lone Tweedle wandered to the starting Piccadilly nightclub swishing past all the people queued up and stating that my name was on the guest list I felt like a star - Even if it was for lemons, milk and mould! Shyly climbing the stairs in my sparkly golden heels I reached the top and saw it was packed out. I noticed a few faces at the bar and after having to take out a mortgage and three loans to pay for my one singular drink of the evening there I headed to find the host.

A special area had been made up specifically for the shows wrap party and I began to clock more and more faces, a few in particular I took a liking too. Soon I was mingling with the best of them and some real gems as far as people go. Then the chaos began and we headed for the next club up the road in posh Mayfair, London. Off the heels came and on went the flats to make the ten-minute commute to the next venue of choice, headed up by me and only a mapping application on my phone. Once in the chic, cosmopolitan bar I wondered where the men I had my eyes on had got too. Turning my attention back to conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb I could tell that whilst the night was barely getting started for me, it would very shortly be over before it had even started properly.

Descending the stairs to a smokey, seedy dance floor I was excited and enthralled by the atmosphere. granted I did feel that a sardine would have more room to move than I did at that time, but I was caught in the moment and loving every moment of it; Especially since I knew we would have to leave soon, being the last trains and all. Just before I went home though something spectacular happened! So on the dance floor was I and so was the rest of the cast and plus-ones, and after being force-fed expensive Vodka by a fetching man I headed for the exit, already well aware that Miss Tweedle-Dumb would not approve of us missing our train home, nor at the fact I had left her by herself whilst I said goodbye. But as I stepped down from the stage, and before I waded through the crowd an arm stretched out in front of me. Taking the mysterious hand although knowing whom it belonged to I fell into his arms. Now I shall not kiss and tell (and you can all take that comment on complete face value as it is true, we did have a cheeky one) but what a wonderful man I met. Now, you guys all know how I feel about accent's and this one is stunning. They are so important! Enough said although I refuse to reveal anymore as this might be en-route to somewhere since we have been in contact since.

Sunday was a lazy day. The morning was spent sleeping since me and Miss Tweedle-Dumb didn't arrive back home until four-in-the-morning. Another rushed Get-out-of-bed routine though as I realized I had less than an hour to prepare for my date with the now known Mr. Cheese. The afternoon itself was laid-back and relaxed. As planned we bought some vintage cheese and ate this in a quiet beer garden with cider and conversation as fuel for our fire. We had been chatting most evenings in the week and had finally decided to meet each other at two O'clock on Sunday afternoon, although this is where I had made a slight mistake in terms of location. You see in Bedford there is a river and on this river there are many bridges one of which they call - The Butterfly Bridge. A romantic symbol some may say, especially for a man. Something that makes you wonder why would a man choose that to be the location for meeting a date. Regardless of the philosophy behind the statement that was in itself perfectly unscripted, it does still not undermine the fact that I still managed to go to the wrong bridge. In typical 'Moi' fashion I had gone to the wrong bridge. So as ten past two arrived I came to realise that not only did I research into what the romanticised Butterfly Bridge looked like, but I also had my back to it the entire time. An omen maybe for me and Mr. Cheese?

Sunday afternoon ended as my Saturday night had as well - with a kiss. So impromptu and uninhibited Mr.Cheese swooped in whilst I was explaining something probably mundane and kissed me soft on the lips. Nothing special and no full on make-out sesh here. Just simple, sweet, innocent kisses. So very awkward as this isn't something I would usually consent to on a first date but when the arm slinks around you and there isn't anyone around to see the PDA (a Public Display of Affection - not and actual PDA; That would be weird) you feel inclined to just say yes. It was the same when we departed a sweet kiss goodbye, but not before confirming next Sunday as our second 'Date'!

Oh but yes. Here I am in the reality of my now rush-hour love life. Mr. Cheese and my Mystery man. I like both.  But I also like being single. But I also would like to have something more in terms of a relationship. But I want a life outside of one too. I never do make things easy for myself. And I always did say that there will come a time when you wait and wait and wait and then suddenly your numbers are up. But which chips do I cash in? Which one should I gamble on? I know which one I want because I cant stop thinking about it and wondering -but is it the winning ticket?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Midsummer Night's Disaster!

Hi,
 
So after another week of relentless searching for that perfect abode it has beaten me yet again. I can understand why boffins say that moving into a new home is one of the most stressful things a human can do. On the up side, the weather has been great here in this part of the UK. After walking around Sunny Bedford most of Saturday Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I decided it was just too sunny to stay indoors and procrastinate and so we decided to head to the pub. To celebrate the weather, the three of us decided on a road trip and all went to Cambridge for the day, meeting up with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend. A wonderful day out in the sunshine if I do say so myself and defiantly to be repeated!
 
However it is nights like this one, hot, humid and sticky that remind me of all those many moons ago (Not that long ago actually) when I was living in Northamptonshire after my separation from Mr. Workaholic. You see when I split from my Ex, we went our separate ways. He went squealing back to Mummy and I continued, although shattered, to work in Northampton. It was during those months that I was on a regular night out with my work colleagues - A mismatch of people from all backgrounds and ages with varying degree's of humour, tolerance and intelligence. Getting dressed up I decided that for the first time ever I would go out with my legs on show and bare from tights. I wore a red dress as well which apparently shows men that the wearer is amorous, fiery and lustful. Don't know about that given how the night ended?!
 
Walking into the posh cocktail bar the group of us headed straight to the bar and got a round in and it wasn't before long I was dancing along with the rest of them, giggling at our bosses embarrassing dance-floor shapes. After coming back from outside to get some air I went back to our table, although I had noticed a new pair of eyes in the room. A tall, pale, handsome figure loomed over the other side of the bar. I smiled and thought nothing more of the innocent looking stranger. As the night continued though I couldn't help but think about him, until that is he was tapping me on the shoulder. As I turned the handsome stranger lent in and said he like my dress and thought I was very beautiful. I was flattered and completely taken aback by the fact that someone other than my pig of an Ex-boyfriend actually fancied me. I returned the complement. From there on in we spent the next few moment complementing each others persona. Mr. Sick, as he shall be referred to, was wearing a mauve, designer polo shirt and a pair of tight, black, skinny-jeans finished off by a pair of branded boots which were slightly out of place for a chic city club. From progressing conversation I gathered his name, that he still lived at home with his parents and that he was a car sales man. For some odd reason I thought Mr. Sick looked slightly Irish; What with the dark-blonde hair combed into a stylish quiff, baby face and blue eyes I fell a little. However our encounter was to only be brief as I was swept away by a fellow work buddy to dance.
 
As the night wore on and after another trip to the bar we met again. Mr. Sick said that he had to go as his friend was sick and he needed to get him home and would have to go with him. Tipsy, I had said that Mr. Sick could stay with our group of friends and pointed in the direction of my work friends at our V.I.P table we had blagged earlier in the evening. Obliging Mr. Sick left to see his friend off in a cab and then returned with two bottles of beer. "My mate has left this one untouched, you can have it if you like and I'll buy you a fresh one after." He said. Dubious I took the bottle of warm beer and thanked him. He only added to my suspicions though when he said "Don't worry, its not spiked with anything!" Instant flop. I smiled and grinned but at the next available opportunity I put the beer on a table hoping he wouldn't notice. He didn't and after buying me another rancid beer we decided to attempt that age old tradition of dancing. Lets just say that Mr. Sick's dance moves were across between Elvis and Michael Jackson being struck with a tazer gun. It was at this point I noticed he was drinking incredible fast, although I didn't think anything of it. After a while Mr. Sick and I decided to head to a new bar and after walking into the fresh summer air we started to converse again. I bragged about how I lived by myself and had and en-suite room as he stared at me in awe. I knew at that point what would come of the evening. Mr. Sick and I headed to another club and straight to the bar we went, although I was buying this time - I was sick and tired of lousy beer. Passing him his drink we danced some more.
 
Suddenly Mr. Sick grabbed my hand and dragged me outside! Teetering on heels in the chilly air I asked what the plan was. Mr. Sick shrugged his shoulders. There was no point in beating round the bush. Both of us knew where the night would end and after I had spouted off about living alone I thought it would only be rude if I didn't show him where I lived. So we hailed a cab to take us back to mine. After a few smug looks and smirks from the driver I started to talk as if we had been together for ages and that this wasn't just some randomer, this didn't quash the taxi drivers looks though and I felt as though he had seen this story a million times before. Pulling into my quiet cul-de-sac Mr. Sick graciously and generously paid for the twenty-quid taxi fare and we left the cabbie and his opinions behind. Opening the door to my room I let Mr. Sick take a seat on my bed as I showed him my bathroom and asked if he wanted a drink. I felt as though I was in some cheesy rom-com and Mr. Sick's next comments didn't help. He had noticed some erotic fiction on my bedside table and decided that the best thing to do would be to say "Lets reenact some scenes?" To think that if Mr. Sick had ever actually read the book in question, then he could have ended up in a compromising position with a gag ball and some handcuffs. Regardless of that the lights were dimmed and we started to kiss.
 
Not the best kisser of all time although not the worst, although he did have a thing about moving the hair out of my face whilst making-out and loved touching my facial features. Somewhat romantic, but after a while you feel like your a piece of Braille. Although when it come down to the heavy stuff, well, he really didn't like receiving oral. I mean most men go mad for that kind of stuff, and I have been told that I'm 'experianced' in that department. His loss though. When it was my turn to lay back and think of England, all I could think about was the systematic and robotic nature of his hand movements. It was like I was a stubborn stain that needed to be cleaned. When it then came down to the nitty gritty, Mr. Sick attempted, but it was very much a 'is it in yet?' affair. Not my kind of party. I decided to play the tired card and we both rolled over. Mr. Sick attempted the 'big spoon' position and I succumbed.
 
It was only when I opened my eyes again that I heard Mr. Sick retching. Bolting upright just in time to see him puke all over my bed, splashing both me, the duvet and the floor in vomit. Thankfully I didn't have to cart Mr. Sick to the bathroom as he made his own way there, finishing in the sink. Rubbing his back I thought about what I had let myself in for. After profusely apologising he tried to kiss me. Nope. Returning to bed and tucking Mr. Sick in like a child I somehow thought how I was doing the right thing. Most women and indeed some men in my position would have just thrown them out on their ear after what had already happened. But I couldn't. The thought that he could be roaming the local area like a lost animal, drunk and being sick was something I could not live with. So I kept awake and whilst the sun came up and the birds started to sing Mr. Sick lived up to his name a further three times, covering my bathroom in barf. There wasn't one thing that didn't suffer. Towels, toilet, shower door, bath mats, clothes basket, shelf and mirrors were all destroyed by the exorcist like puke-fest. Finally as morning broke and I looked at the clock, the screaming 10am told me that he had to go. And so I released him back into the wild, not even exchanging numbers. Only names.
 
And so that is the story of Mr. Sick. A genuine tale of drunken mess and a hero that was willing to let a mess like that back into her bed to sleep it off. The worst part about it was that he still wasn't Irish. If anything he told me he was originally from Manchester. Close enough I suppose. For some odd reason Mr. Workaholic was thrilled to hear of my bedroom misfortune and used it as an excuse to wheedle his way in again like the slimey toad he is. But still I keep on searching - Both for my new pad and for a new man ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx