Afternoon All,
So after another uneventful day at the office, and just over half the working week finished off I was sat on my tangerine sofa watching the telly when I get a call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Knowing that our regular yet sporadic twilight conversations usually last several hours I settled into an even comfier position on the settee. Giggling away and talking of life we gossipped about my up and coming football mini-break with Mr. Cheese and his family in Exeter at the end of next month, as well as the sexy Mr. Cheese himself and how besotted I was. As we talked of boys and inside jokes the conversation turned towards the graduation ceremony Miss Tweedle-Dumb is going to for her boyfriend. I confirmed what date it was. She told me. I didn't understand. Had she got the weekends muddled up. No she hadn't. Suddenly I felt very sick and went very quiet for I had double booked. The weekend Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I had planned a girlie weekend away in the Midlands was also the same weekend I was due to be in Exeter with Mr. Cheese and the family!
Clarifying time and time again I realised that it meant one thing. Bro's? Or Hoes? Whilst I knew what had to do I didn't like having to choose. Silly me! So after finishing the conversation with Miss Tweedle-Dumb I knew who I had to call next. Dialling his number at quarter to ten in the evening, I knew he would be in bed and quite possibly asleep. He answered and my heart nearly fell out of my chest with fear. Straight away I blurted out my faux pas and instantly I could tell he wasn't happy about it. The worst of it was, on top of the fact I was looking forward to my very first football game, Mr. Cheese informed me that his Dad had switched round all the bookings only recently so we could share a room together. Feeling awful and not wanting his family to hate me I confessed that I would try and fix it, although I knew in my heart I couldn't. After talking for a while we ended the conversation with the hope that by the time we all got to our desks the next morning everything would have been solved and I could do both weekends, keeping everyone somewhat happy. Morning broke and so did the news. It wasn't possible to change our booking with the Tweedles and so I had to cancel on Mr. Cheese and his sexy self!
Regardless of this less than a few hours later I was invited to spend the evening in Mr. Cheese's company. But we would not be dining alone for it was his brother's birthday and the whole family had turned out in celebration of reaching a landmark age. Rushing home from work I applied the make-up and donned a flattering outfit teamed with heels and a smart blazer. Hair styled sweetly I was ready to go just as Mr. Cheese poked his head round the door to my flat. Speeding along the country lanes in the dark I could tell that he was running behind on schedule and that he was somewhat late. Arriving back at his family home awaiting a lift from his Dad we chatted to his brothers, including the birthday boy himself. After some casual banter we jumped in the car and headed for the restaurant and although the car atmosphere was relaxed I was still scared for the unknown of meeting the family properly and so I held Mr. Cheese's hand tightly all the way there.
Dinner was amazing and whilst I felt as if I was being watched by every pair of eyes I feel I came across confident as held my own in conversation. Most of his family I had met in fleeting moments such as his Mom, Nan and Dad, his brothers I knew a little more, except from the oldest one who ended up not coming to dinner in the end. I was asked about my profession which made me proud to say I worked in finance. OK, so slightly stretching that there but I do kind of, even if it is calling companies up asking for money as a Credit Controller. I was asked about my own family and where I lived too and I felt strong in how I came across. banter between the brothers lasted through until we left, although there was not enough room in the car so Mr. Cheese and I waited in the bar whilst his Father took the rest of the family home. Just as everyone got up from the table and said our goodbyes I noticed Grandma Cheese whispering in Mr. Cheese's ear. It was obviously something about me (probably how brilliant I was, haha) and I tried to shrink into the background whilst I intently tried to listen to the little old lady's words of wisdom to her Grandson, but to no avail.
Sitting in the bar Mr. Cheese and I cosied up whilst talking of the adventures we would have in Cambridge the following afternoon. As time passed his Dad came to collect us and take us both home to my flat. An evening of seduction followed with snuggles and kisses galore, refereeing the fact I was falling fasted than a lead balloon. But when morning broke it wasn't as pleasant. Answering the door in my pyjamas and ruffled sex hair, squinting into the weekend sun I saw my own father with some boxes containing Christmas stuff I had asked for a few days back that I had not had a chance to move yet from my Dad's garage. Dumping it on my doorstep he left for some meetings and promised a catch-up soon. I huffed them into the house before returning to bed and a snoring Mr. Cheese.
Saturday afternoon was spent walking around Cambridge, eating on fabulous foods such as a white chocolate crepe with fresh strawberries and banana. Not thinking it fully through we then planned to meet up with the Tweedles, Miss Lace and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend within a couple of hours for dinner. After a relaxed dinner with lots of appreciated attention from Mr. Cheese we went our separate ways and whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Lace went to see a new band, Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Mr. Cheese and I headed back to the Boyfriend's for some drinks and casual chill out before heading home ourselves. All four of us connected well over conversation of graduations, holidays and sports. It was so nice to finally have someone to share my time with amongst some of my best friends and I really appreciated the effort Mr. Cheese made with the girls, something I can't ever remember Mr. Workaholic doing. Although as the cider kept flowing I soon realised that it was time to go, although stumbling to my feet I realised just how strong the cider I had been drinking was. After bidding our farewells Mr. Cheese and I boarded the night bus back to Bedford. Although slightly intoxicated I soon sobered up, especially when coach-conversation turned to 'us'!
Yet again the conversation arose whereby we discussed our feelings for one another and how much we care and like each other. I stated how I was still scared about committing fully to someone especially when we are both so young still and have a lot more of life to explore before settling down into a long term and steady relationship. But we also grappled with the fact that we feel so strongly for one another that it may not be as simple to just walk away. A situation, most defiantly. However something I had come across in which Mr. Cheese had never confided in me before was the fact that whilst things are so amazingly great right now, he wonders as to whether it would all go downhill if things became exclusive with a full blown relationship. It got me thinking admittedly, but I know in my heart this is me and I wouldn't change just because I was now something more serious. Besides, its too late now, Ive jumped from the helicopter of Singlesville and am now hurtling towards the ground with no parachute and no safety net! Fuck!
Stating my honest feelings seemed to put him at ease but as to where we stand now. Well that's something that may need some time. Good thing we have some. The next fortnight I will spend apart form my dear Mr. Cheese as we are both tied up in our own commitments such as work, friends and family not to mention football, writing and hobbies. This coming weekend Mr. Cheese is off to the Midlands to visit old Uni friends whilst I shall be partying with Miss Chocolate on Friday and Saturday relaxing by the pool in a spa with some good friends and a masseuse called Chantelle rubbing me down with oil! Ahh Bliss.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Miss Lace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miss Lace. Show all posts
Tuesday, 29 October 2013
Tuesday, 1 October 2013
The Elastic Band Effect
Afternoon All,
Well, after last week's relaxed mental state after having many a question answered the whirlwind in my head had started to die down. That was until I met up with some of my family over the weekend and made me realize that maybe it was the eye of the storm for now I am in my second full day of not saying a word to Mr. Cheese! I know. Trust me, I am just as freaked out as you are right now. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly up until now. So what happened? Well, allow me to explain ...
It all started with Friday evening and a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and their work colleague Miss Lace. We all went to London to see some live music from a band who were dragged up from our adolescents and still sounded as good as they did all them many moons ago when I was still chasing after boys and wearing a school uniform - Not that anything has changed, apart from maybe the uniform. It was good fun but as the girls departed, my night had only just began! I arrived in West London to be greeted by a warm face and was pulled in for a big hug even before the tube barriers had let me through. Mr. Cheese was warm and inviting and secretly I had missed him. Alot. But of course I was never going to tell him that, or the fact that I had been waiting all week to have a weekend like the one ahead of us; Or at least so I thought.
Stumbling into his flat he shut the front door and we almost immediately jumped into bed. But something was wrong. I was wide awake and there was only one thing that could send me to sleep satisfied and contented. Whilst I struggled to fall asleep 'naturally' Mr. Cheese held me in his arms and although it sounds like magic, I was finding it harder and harder to resist him. As I slowly started to tease and play he got the idea and I suppose its safe to say that I got what I needed that night in more ways than one. I'm glad to report that things are getting better and better in the bedroom department, although I am still left hungry for more every time!
As the sun rose on Saturday morning, Mr. Cheese begged to take me to breakfast out along the main High Street. Looking at the time there was simply no hope of squeezing in a takeaway coffee let alone a full blown sit-down scoff. We dressed and Mr. Cheese walked me to the station. Parting our ways, Mr. Cheese attended a rugby game with his family and I visited mine. First stop was my grandparents who utilised the fact that I was round their house to help with some printing but all was in vain as the printing still came out as blotchy as before. Almost as soon as I had walked through the door on their little bungalow, I was questioned about my love-life and all manner of things within it. Topic of conversation fell straight towards Mr. Cheese and where it was all going not to mention my dilemma of the Christmas plans with his family up North. The same conversation was dug up when I met up with my Dad for dinner that evening. My Dad warned me and reminded me of just how far it is a fall from grace as was with Mr. Workaholic. "I don't want you having your heart broken again sweetheart" Dad said with a concerned look on his face. He knew what I was like. Falling hard and fast for people before I know the bigger picture.Still, the chat with family somewhat it put my mind at ease. Just simply being able to talk it out was good, but it forced me to remember just how wrong it can all go.
Arriving back into London on Saturday evening, Mr. Cheese and I spent the evening chatting to his house mate about films and hobbies before we started bitching about people we knew. And boy can men be catty. After making our way through several bottles of cider, champagne and indulging in cake, cheese and fruit; Mr. Cheese and I thought it would be time to retire to bed. I was looking forward to the fact that neither of us had to be up early in the morning, nor did we have any plans for Sunday either. 'A whole day in bed' I thought. Ponders of how I would give his cranky neighbours something to shout about raced through my head as a cheeky smile played across my face. Slipping into a night shirt I knew would be tossed across the room within the hour I clambered into bed. Snuggling on Mr. Cheese's chest whilst a nature programme played in the background, I started to play with his chest hair but little did Mr. Cheese know that this was only the beginning of my favourite game of all. Cat and Mouse. The teasingly frustrating climb to seduction whereby it all ends with two hot, breathless, exhausted bodies ready for bed. Properly.
However this was not how the evening panned out. In fact the animals on the television got more action in twenty minutes than I did in seventy-two hours being in Mr. Cheese's company. 'Maybe Mr. Cheese was just playing a better game? Maybe I have met my match? Was he enjoying winding me up and is he ever going to give in and let me have it?' I thought to myself. I hoped Sunday would be better and agreeing with Mr. Cheese that we were in fact both tired I drifted off to sleep, limbs entangled and his head on my chest. But as I awoke for the second consecutive night in a row I felt a soft wet kiss on my cheek. Opening my peepers I saw a bright blue-eyed Mr. Cheese gazing at me. Finally we had nothing to rush out the door for. Nothing planned to interrupt. Just us. Well that and the fact that we were both gradually wasting away in bed. In between kisses I noticed that I was being more affectionate than Mr. Cheese was to me. I held back a little to see what he would do. To my dismay he kept turning away from me, rolling his body in the opposite direction. Finding this odd I tried to turn him on but with no luck. Was I unattractive? Did he want to have sex with me? Was I really that wobbly?
After giving up all hope of morning sex we finally we made the decision to get up and go for the breakfast I had promised him yesterday. And although there was the promise of returning to bed later on after we had eaten I knew that it would be highly unlikely. How right I was. After feasting on a wonderful breakfast we spent some quality time in the Autumn sunshine walking hand in hand around West London where Mr. Cheese lives and exploring antique shop's and cafes in between sneaks into the delicatessen and pet shop. Before heading home we bought ice-creams for one last ditch attempt to soak up summer. I took this opportunity to use the frozen desert to my advantage although I don't think he was paying attention.
Back at his flat I spent the next few hours listening and attempting to understand football as there was a game on and Mr. Cheese plus house mate were completely engrossed. Just as I thought about going home the suggestion of watching some more television in bed, minus the house mate, came into play. 'Mmm, how wonderful would it be to end it on a high?' I thought selfishly in my head as we got under the blankets. But all Mr. Cheese wanted to do was cuddle. Just hug and hold each other as we watched other mammals getting some on telly. Again I tried to work my magic but nothing. Mr. Cheese just kept saying how he wanted to simply snuggle. I reluctantly gave up my efforts and as I did suddenly out spilt my heart and all the worries I had for the future.
Now I suppose from the outside this is cute and adorable. It should be nice that he doesn't just want to fuck and be done with it. A true gentleman. But this weekend and the inactivity of my vagina has left me wondering weather I'm good enough? Surely this is the honeymoon period where we can barely keep our hands off each other, sneaking into quiet woodland to have a secret passionate kiss and a naughty fumble. I feel as though we have reached a stand still. I really like this guy more than I thought I ever could, especially after Mr. Workaholic, but I find myself wondering what is wrong. It seems like he doesn't like me as much as I like him. The worry is that, like Mr. Workaholic, I will become attached and a part of his life, only for him to one day rip me apart and leave me in a shredded, tattery heap on the floor desperately clinging to the life I had once more. It doesn't help when Mr. Cheese explains that after only having been in one relationship which lasted nearly four years which ended around this time last year, he doesn't know what else is out there. That terrifies me beyond my wildest nightmares. I have been there. I have put other people through the heart-ache of a break-up with no reasoning. But I have also been on the receiving end of this chest-ripping pain and its something I don't want to ever return to.
The fact that Mr. Cheese say I make him happier than his Ex ever did and that I am all he has ever looked for in a partner still makes him reluctant to answer the question of where this all is going. As time flew by I explained my concerns with Mr. Cheese and discussed my concerns. You see everyone, Mr. Cheese isn't just another fling, another notch on my bedpost. He is someone I can see spending my days with happy and content laughing away as the months turn into years. Mr. Cheese is gentlemanly and kind and generous and intelligent and wonderful in so many ways. I am not so opposed to the idea of becoming a 'G' friend as I was when Mr. Cheese and I first met. But for him I feel that he is in the same place as I was when I met Mr. Coffee. Madly infatuated but also cautious not to get it wrong and hurt anyone in the process. I understand where he might be at the moment and I know I'm stressing over nothing but I just needed some space from him to clear my head and think straight and sensibly about what to do next.
And so like an elastic band I have stretched far and kept my distance whilst I sort through this mess I have gotten myself into. I know that by this time next week I will have pinged back, straight into his warm embrace. I just hope that this time I will have grown on him like the mold in which he has cultivated me with. In a good way of course. So hurry up Mr. Cheese ... Infest me!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Well, after last week's relaxed mental state after having many a question answered the whirlwind in my head had started to die down. That was until I met up with some of my family over the weekend and made me realize that maybe it was the eye of the storm for now I am in my second full day of not saying a word to Mr. Cheese! I know. Trust me, I am just as freaked out as you are right now. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly up until now. So what happened? Well, allow me to explain ...
It all started with Friday evening and a night out with Miss Tweedle-Dumb, Miss Tweedle-Dee and their work colleague Miss Lace. We all went to London to see some live music from a band who were dragged up from our adolescents and still sounded as good as they did all them many moons ago when I was still chasing after boys and wearing a school uniform - Not that anything has changed, apart from maybe the uniform. It was good fun but as the girls departed, my night had only just began! I arrived in West London to be greeted by a warm face and was pulled in for a big hug even before the tube barriers had let me through. Mr. Cheese was warm and inviting and secretly I had missed him. Alot. But of course I was never going to tell him that, or the fact that I had been waiting all week to have a weekend like the one ahead of us; Or at least so I thought.
Stumbling into his flat he shut the front door and we almost immediately jumped into bed. But something was wrong. I was wide awake and there was only one thing that could send me to sleep satisfied and contented. Whilst I struggled to fall asleep 'naturally' Mr. Cheese held me in his arms and although it sounds like magic, I was finding it harder and harder to resist him. As I slowly started to tease and play he got the idea and I suppose its safe to say that I got what I needed that night in more ways than one. I'm glad to report that things are getting better and better in the bedroom department, although I am still left hungry for more every time!
As the sun rose on Saturday morning, Mr. Cheese begged to take me to breakfast out along the main High Street. Looking at the time there was simply no hope of squeezing in a takeaway coffee let alone a full blown sit-down scoff. We dressed and Mr. Cheese walked me to the station. Parting our ways, Mr. Cheese attended a rugby game with his family and I visited mine. First stop was my grandparents who utilised the fact that I was round their house to help with some printing but all was in vain as the printing still came out as blotchy as before. Almost as soon as I had walked through the door on their little bungalow, I was questioned about my love-life and all manner of things within it. Topic of conversation fell straight towards Mr. Cheese and where it was all going not to mention my dilemma of the Christmas plans with his family up North. The same conversation was dug up when I met up with my Dad for dinner that evening. My Dad warned me and reminded me of just how far it is a fall from grace as was with Mr. Workaholic. "I don't want you having your heart broken again sweetheart" Dad said with a concerned look on his face. He knew what I was like. Falling hard and fast for people before I know the bigger picture.Still, the chat with family somewhat it put my mind at ease. Just simply being able to talk it out was good, but it forced me to remember just how wrong it can all go.
Arriving back into London on Saturday evening, Mr. Cheese and I spent the evening chatting to his house mate about films and hobbies before we started bitching about people we knew. And boy can men be catty. After making our way through several bottles of cider, champagne and indulging in cake, cheese and fruit; Mr. Cheese and I thought it would be time to retire to bed. I was looking forward to the fact that neither of us had to be up early in the morning, nor did we have any plans for Sunday either. 'A whole day in bed' I thought. Ponders of how I would give his cranky neighbours something to shout about raced through my head as a cheeky smile played across my face. Slipping into a night shirt I knew would be tossed across the room within the hour I clambered into bed. Snuggling on Mr. Cheese's chest whilst a nature programme played in the background, I started to play with his chest hair but little did Mr. Cheese know that this was only the beginning of my favourite game of all. Cat and Mouse. The teasingly frustrating climb to seduction whereby it all ends with two hot, breathless, exhausted bodies ready for bed. Properly.
However this was not how the evening panned out. In fact the animals on the television got more action in twenty minutes than I did in seventy-two hours being in Mr. Cheese's company. 'Maybe Mr. Cheese was just playing a better game? Maybe I have met my match? Was he enjoying winding me up and is he ever going to give in and let me have it?' I thought to myself. I hoped Sunday would be better and agreeing with Mr. Cheese that we were in fact both tired I drifted off to sleep, limbs entangled and his head on my chest. But as I awoke for the second consecutive night in a row I felt a soft wet kiss on my cheek. Opening my peepers I saw a bright blue-eyed Mr. Cheese gazing at me. Finally we had nothing to rush out the door for. Nothing planned to interrupt. Just us. Well that and the fact that we were both gradually wasting away in bed. In between kisses I noticed that I was being more affectionate than Mr. Cheese was to me. I held back a little to see what he would do. To my dismay he kept turning away from me, rolling his body in the opposite direction. Finding this odd I tried to turn him on but with no luck. Was I unattractive? Did he want to have sex with me? Was I really that wobbly?
After giving up all hope of morning sex we finally we made the decision to get up and go for the breakfast I had promised him yesterday. And although there was the promise of returning to bed later on after we had eaten I knew that it would be highly unlikely. How right I was. After feasting on a wonderful breakfast we spent some quality time in the Autumn sunshine walking hand in hand around West London where Mr. Cheese lives and exploring antique shop's and cafes in between sneaks into the delicatessen and pet shop. Before heading home we bought ice-creams for one last ditch attempt to soak up summer. I took this opportunity to use the frozen desert to my advantage although I don't think he was paying attention.
Back at his flat I spent the next few hours listening and attempting to understand football as there was a game on and Mr. Cheese plus house mate were completely engrossed. Just as I thought about going home the suggestion of watching some more television in bed, minus the house mate, came into play. 'Mmm, how wonderful would it be to end it on a high?' I thought selfishly in my head as we got under the blankets. But all Mr. Cheese wanted to do was cuddle. Just hug and hold each other as we watched other mammals getting some on telly. Again I tried to work my magic but nothing. Mr. Cheese just kept saying how he wanted to simply snuggle. I reluctantly gave up my efforts and as I did suddenly out spilt my heart and all the worries I had for the future.
Now I suppose from the outside this is cute and adorable. It should be nice that he doesn't just want to fuck and be done with it. A true gentleman. But this weekend and the inactivity of my vagina has left me wondering weather I'm good enough? Surely this is the honeymoon period where we can barely keep our hands off each other, sneaking into quiet woodland to have a secret passionate kiss and a naughty fumble. I feel as though we have reached a stand still. I really like this guy more than I thought I ever could, especially after Mr. Workaholic, but I find myself wondering what is wrong. It seems like he doesn't like me as much as I like him. The worry is that, like Mr. Workaholic, I will become attached and a part of his life, only for him to one day rip me apart and leave me in a shredded, tattery heap on the floor desperately clinging to the life I had once more. It doesn't help when Mr. Cheese explains that after only having been in one relationship which lasted nearly four years which ended around this time last year, he doesn't know what else is out there. That terrifies me beyond my wildest nightmares. I have been there. I have put other people through the heart-ache of a break-up with no reasoning. But I have also been on the receiving end of this chest-ripping pain and its something I don't want to ever return to.
The fact that Mr. Cheese say I make him happier than his Ex ever did and that I am all he has ever looked for in a partner still makes him reluctant to answer the question of where this all is going. As time flew by I explained my concerns with Mr. Cheese and discussed my concerns. You see everyone, Mr. Cheese isn't just another fling, another notch on my bedpost. He is someone I can see spending my days with happy and content laughing away as the months turn into years. Mr. Cheese is gentlemanly and kind and generous and intelligent and wonderful in so many ways. I am not so opposed to the idea of becoming a 'G' friend as I was when Mr. Cheese and I first met. But for him I feel that he is in the same place as I was when I met Mr. Coffee. Madly infatuated but also cautious not to get it wrong and hurt anyone in the process. I understand where he might be at the moment and I know I'm stressing over nothing but I just needed some space from him to clear my head and think straight and sensibly about what to do next.
And so like an elastic band I have stretched far and kept my distance whilst I sort through this mess I have gotten myself into. I know that by this time next week I will have pinged back, straight into his warm embrace. I just hope that this time I will have grown on him like the mold in which he has cultivated me with. In a good way of course. So hurry up Mr. Cheese ... Infest me!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Another Bank Holiday Survived ...
Hi,
Another week and another Bank Holiday has been lived through yet again. To think that the next one wont be until August! This fact makes me sad. I have however been a very busy bunny and have got lots to tell you so I shall crack on.
So just after last week's 'episode' I got a text from the lovely Mr. Accent pampering my ego by saying how much he enjoyed reading. To be honest I am a little shocked he actually could be bothered to read it, I'm still trying to get over the fact that you guys find my life so interesting to tune in every week as well, but thanks nevertheless. Talking about how I had made Mr. Accent feel better about himself and boosted his confidence put a smile on my face and made my own head double in size.
Friday soon rolled round and after I had bid a farewell to the parents I knew it was time to party. Before I I knew it though, I was working with Miss Tweedle-Dumb behind the bar at a local bar for a party hosted in aid of a children's charity. Less than two hours in and already there was a fight. I should have seen it coming to be fair; more guys than girls, access to alcohol and pheromones bouncing left, right and centre - It was bound to happen. But as I watched safely from behind the bar while the fists were flying, Miss Tweedle-Dumb got stuck in there trying to break it all up. After giving the host a second chance to redeem both the event and her guests Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I reopened the bar and proceeded on with the evening. Until that is when, twenty minute later, the same thug made another surprise appearance. On entering the room he walked up to the bar, his footsteps getting faster as he started to make a run-up. Jumping onto the bar he looked dead into my eyes, his steely glaze frozen me to the spot and I knew that I wasn't to get in the way of him and his violent intentions. Grabbing a glass from underneath the bar he jumped down and calmly quick-paced back the way he had come separating the crowds of party-goers. As the lights came on and the music stopped once more the tinkle of glass could be heard as the trouble-maker smashed the stolen glass off the edge of a sideboard. Yells, screams and shouts were to follow as well as lots of tears and unhappy faces. The party was over. On the plus side though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got an earlier night and were back home drinking Hot Chocolate and gossipping by midnight.
Rising early on Saturday I decided to join Miss Chocolate for some retail therapy and spent more than I probably would like to admit. Soon though I realised that I had run out of time and with my bags full to bursting and my purse lightening I raced to the station to catch the train back home. Arriving home I flopped onto the sofa, bags and all. I knew that the girls would be here any moment and so I rushed around the house hanging up banners, sticking up decorations and planning party games like pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel, even spray painting the cake gold and sticking a unicorn on top. Anyone would have thought it was a kids birthday party but no, this was Miss Tweedle-Dumb's 21st birthday celebration and I was the host. I wanted everything to be perfect and it was. Everyone ended up having a brilliant time and the night ended with Miss Tweedle-Dumb receiving a lap-dance from none other than yours truly - The things you do for the ones you love, eh?
Following a calming and relaxing lunch with the gang on Sunday and meeting Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend for the second time in their nearly three year relationship, we all went back to my parent's house for cocktails in the late afternoon sun. After coming to no resolutions in regards to what we should all do on the last day of the bank holiday, everyone left and once again I rushed around like a headless chicken getting ready for a night out on the tiles with Miss Chocolate - And what a night that was! Slurping down the rest of the cocktail I had concocted, Little old me made my way to the station and boarded the next train into town. Meeting Miss Chocolate, we made our way towards the smells, sounds and lights of the town I used to call 'Home'. Once we had paid the unreasonable fee to enter the nightclub we realised that this was not going to be as fun as our Friday night in Frodsham (See Friday Night In Frodsham). Although at one point during the evening I became terrified when a young, black male approached me from behind and started to 'Bump and Grind' on me as Miss Chocolate put it, but I see it as a violation of my derriere. Later on in the evening whilst switching DJ's, I was happily minding my own business until a song came blasting from the speakers, and, for no apparent reason I started to cry. Other than the fact that the lyrics and song itself cast me back to happier times with my once perfect, Mr. Workaholic, I couldn't see any reason as to why I was standing in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by mildly attractive men and sobbing hard into Miss Chocolates shoulders whilst she comforted me. Upon coming up for air, a very nice girl stopped and gave me a hug. Whilst wiping away my tears she said to be happy and not to cry as he wasn't worth it. It is at that moment I promised myself I shall never shed a tear over the dud that is Mr. Workaholic. Pushing these facts aside we partied well into the early hours and I returned home whilst the sun was coming up.
With less than three-hours sleep though I was woken by Miss Tweedle-Dee proclaiming that we were going to do something with the day and that I need to get out of bed and be ready as soon as possible. Soon after that, Miss Tweedle-Dumb called and said that she was coming to pick me up so we could begin our day out. And so the weekend was finished with a walk in the local countryside topped off with the afternoon sitting in a small cafe by a canal lock not far from where Mr. Workaholic and I used to live. Whilst indulging ourselves in a very British tea and cake session, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I planned for what we would need to take on our holiday.
With the rainy days that have followed the bank holiday and with less than a week to go, I find myself writing this post thinking that this time next week I shall hopefully be writing to you from a warmer climate somewhere on the island of Majorca.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
Another week and another Bank Holiday has been lived through yet again. To think that the next one wont be until August! This fact makes me sad. I have however been a very busy bunny and have got lots to tell you so I shall crack on.
So just after last week's 'episode' I got a text from the lovely Mr. Accent pampering my ego by saying how much he enjoyed reading. To be honest I am a little shocked he actually could be bothered to read it, I'm still trying to get over the fact that you guys find my life so interesting to tune in every week as well, but thanks nevertheless. Talking about how I had made Mr. Accent feel better about himself and boosted his confidence put a smile on my face and made my own head double in size.
Friday soon rolled round and after I had bid a farewell to the parents I knew it was time to party. Before I I knew it though, I was working with Miss Tweedle-Dumb behind the bar at a local bar for a party hosted in aid of a children's charity. Less than two hours in and already there was a fight. I should have seen it coming to be fair; more guys than girls, access to alcohol and pheromones bouncing left, right and centre - It was bound to happen. But as I watched safely from behind the bar while the fists were flying, Miss Tweedle-Dumb got stuck in there trying to break it all up. After giving the host a second chance to redeem both the event and her guests Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I reopened the bar and proceeded on with the evening. Until that is when, twenty minute later, the same thug made another surprise appearance. On entering the room he walked up to the bar, his footsteps getting faster as he started to make a run-up. Jumping onto the bar he looked dead into my eyes, his steely glaze frozen me to the spot and I knew that I wasn't to get in the way of him and his violent intentions. Grabbing a glass from underneath the bar he jumped down and calmly quick-paced back the way he had come separating the crowds of party-goers. As the lights came on and the music stopped once more the tinkle of glass could be heard as the trouble-maker smashed the stolen glass off the edge of a sideboard. Yells, screams and shouts were to follow as well as lots of tears and unhappy faces. The party was over. On the plus side though Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got an earlier night and were back home drinking Hot Chocolate and gossipping by midnight.
Rising early on Saturday I decided to join Miss Chocolate for some retail therapy and spent more than I probably would like to admit. Soon though I realised that I had run out of time and with my bags full to bursting and my purse lightening I raced to the station to catch the train back home. Arriving home I flopped onto the sofa, bags and all. I knew that the girls would be here any moment and so I rushed around the house hanging up banners, sticking up decorations and planning party games like pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel, even spray painting the cake gold and sticking a unicorn on top. Anyone would have thought it was a kids birthday party but no, this was Miss Tweedle-Dumb's 21st birthday celebration and I was the host. I wanted everything to be perfect and it was. Everyone ended up having a brilliant time and the night ended with Miss Tweedle-Dumb receiving a lap-dance from none other than yours truly - The things you do for the ones you love, eh?
Following a calming and relaxing lunch with the gang on Sunday and meeting Miss Tweedle-Dumb's boyfriend for the second time in their nearly three year relationship, we all went back to my parent's house for cocktails in the late afternoon sun. After coming to no resolutions in regards to what we should all do on the last day of the bank holiday, everyone left and once again I rushed around like a headless chicken getting ready for a night out on the tiles with Miss Chocolate - And what a night that was! Slurping down the rest of the cocktail I had concocted, Little old me made my way to the station and boarded the next train into town. Meeting Miss Chocolate, we made our way towards the smells, sounds and lights of the town I used to call 'Home'. Once we had paid the unreasonable fee to enter the nightclub we realised that this was not going to be as fun as our Friday night in Frodsham (See Friday Night In Frodsham). Although at one point during the evening I became terrified when a young, black male approached me from behind and started to 'Bump and Grind' on me as Miss Chocolate put it, but I see it as a violation of my derriere. Later on in the evening whilst switching DJ's, I was happily minding my own business until a song came blasting from the speakers, and, for no apparent reason I started to cry. Other than the fact that the lyrics and song itself cast me back to happier times with my once perfect, Mr. Workaholic, I couldn't see any reason as to why I was standing in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by mildly attractive men and sobbing hard into Miss Chocolates shoulders whilst she comforted me. Upon coming up for air, a very nice girl stopped and gave me a hug. Whilst wiping away my tears she said to be happy and not to cry as he wasn't worth it. It is at that moment I promised myself I shall never shed a tear over the dud that is Mr. Workaholic. Pushing these facts aside we partied well into the early hours and I returned home whilst the sun was coming up.
With less than three-hours sleep though I was woken by Miss Tweedle-Dee proclaiming that we were going to do something with the day and that I need to get out of bed and be ready as soon as possible. Soon after that, Miss Tweedle-Dumb called and said that she was coming to pick me up so we could begin our day out. And so the weekend was finished with a walk in the local countryside topped off with the afternoon sitting in a small cafe by a canal lock not far from where Mr. Workaholic and I used to live. Whilst indulging ourselves in a very British tea and cake session, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I planned for what we would need to take on our holiday.
With the rainy days that have followed the bank holiday and with less than a week to go, I find myself writing this post thinking that this time next week I shall hopefully be writing to you from a warmer climate somewhere on the island of Majorca.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
The Grass Might Not Always Be Greener On The Other Side
Evening All,
I hope you have been keeping well. I have. So, after last weeks awkwardness with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's and Miss Tweedle-Dee's work colleague, Miss Lace, I am pleased to announce that everything is as normal and we are in mutual agreement that Miss Lace's feelings are not serious. At least that's what I am being told, I still feel that there might be more than meets the eye - Watch this space!
This week I finished my job with the local flooring company and once I had passed all my training with my new company I took my last journey to outer Bedfordshire to say my goodbye's and collect my things from my old office. Everyone was somewhat shocked to see me go which surprised me given the fact that nothing was rarely kept quiet, especially someone leaving. Regardless they were all lovely and courteous about my departure and wished me all the best as did I. To be honest I actually felt a little sad I was leaving despite only being there less than four months. I suppose I just felt as if this would be the final in a a long string of jobs I have previously had. A small part of me felt let down recalling what Mr. Workaholic had said last time I had to encounter his massive, fat head. (See Post 'A Shock, An Invitation And Compulsory Meeting') Mr. Workaholic's words still ring clear in my ears as I remember him attempting small talk in the seating area of my local bank. Referring to the flooring company role I had recently landed at the time he scoffed 'So, are you actually planning on keeping this job then?' At the time I was so shocked and taken aback by what he had said that I simply brushed it off icily and said something like 'Of course' but secretly I was completely blown away by his arrogance and sheer uncompasionate nature, given the fact that we had sent nearly two years of highs and lows together, you would think he would be more thoughtful of what was coming out of the hole in his face. Maybe not though! However it is not this Ex that plays on my mind as much lately. Following a date night with Miss Chocolate and and old college friend, Miss Tatts, of ours a few weeks ago my first serious boyfriend has been popping up more often than usual. As we all bumbled down the residential street towards Miss Tatts house we passed a familiar driveway. Upon closer inspection I noticed a copper haired gentleman in the driver's seat of a learner vehicle. Chills sparkled up my spine as I realised I had just seen my first love in nearly four years.
I suppose we all have a love boxed up inside us labelled 'The One That Got Away' and for me that was my first serious relationship with Mr. Ginge. Now, Mr. Ginge arrived on the scene shortly after I finished attending High School with Mr. Coffee and Mr. Woof; and long, long before Mr. Workaholic. We met rather conventionally though Sixth Form. Childhood sweethearts you could call it. On my first day I made friends with a young chap who introduced me to all of his peers. Amongst the misfits and outcasts was Mr. Ginge. Taller than the rest at about 6ft something and with fiery red hair he was hard to miss. At the time I was unusually shy and when it came to our first encounter Mr. Ginger made sure I wouldn't forget him. Thinking I was cool a few days into term, I handed round a note pad for everyone to sign their mobile numbers and e-mail addresses so as to contact them outside of the study hours. But when it came to Mr. Ginge's turn he disregarded my simple blue Biro he took out a massive black marker pen and began to write his details in the rest of the book, using up a page for a single, scrawled letter. Smiling and acting coy we flirted for a week or two both inside and outside of the school gates. Looking back I can see that he boyish pokes, jokes and hitting was just a bad attempt at flirting and an excuse to touch me. Men, eh?
On the eve of my 17th birthday we began chatting via E-mail. Mr. Ginge had just got in from doing Cadet's training to be in the Army and was tired but had something to tell me. As my eyes scanned the laptop screen that evening I read over and over how this handsome lad that I had only know for less than three weeks was telling me how beautiful I was and how he loved to hear me laugh. "I love your cuddles," he typed continuing with "your eyes are something magical too." Flattered and still in slight shock he asked me to be his girlfriend. Cockily I said that if he had the balls to do it in person I would oblige and so he vowed that tomorrow on my 17th birthday he would ask me out. Less than 12 hours later were standing on opposite ends of the court-yard at Sixth Form avoiding each other completely and discussing what to do with friends. Finally after a whilst our friends forced us into a quieter area together and then scurried round the corner to hear what was going on. With me hiding behind a fan of birthday cards and Mr. Ginge chewing on the end of a yogurt sachet, he made the proposal again. within moments of me saying 'yes' we had all our friends rallying around us congratulating and asking for kisses and weirdly pictures of the newly 'wed' couple. Following that happy moment came more than a years worth of terrible times in my life, all of which Mr. Ginge stuck by me. I think its safe to say that there were more low's than high's and he could have easily ran a mile at the first whiff of trouble. But he didn't. He stayed with me and made life bearable. Some of my brightest moments I shared with that man and I can honestly say that there will always be a place in my heart for him.
However all was not well in paradise and after transferring to College in mid-September we hit a rough patch. Mr. Ginge and I went from seeing each other every day to barely seeing each other once a week and it took its toll. After a while I wondered weather this was it. Was Mr. Ginge 'The One'? Was he the man I was destine to grow old with and start a family? Was this all life had to offer? After a year and a month I called an end to mine and Mr. Ginge's relationship. He was devastated and completely at a loss with heart-break. Ironically I was to undergo the exact same treatment less than three years later with Mr. Workaholic. Like me I never fully explained myself before calling it off and like Mr. Workaholic, wanted to see if there was more to life than just that. Sadly I think that that initial first experience with Mr. Ginge made my separation from Mr. Workaholic all the more harder. I knew that this was something that Mr. Workaholic had to do in order to live life in a way that would not have been possible given our relationship, but ultimately that decision is one I hope he both regrets and looks back on as I do with my relationship with Mr. Ginge.
A part of me wonders weather Mr. Ginge thinks about me as I think about him. Does he wonder what I am doing? Does he think about what I do? Does he reflect on the memories we shared? I do. I sometimes contemplate what life would be like now if we had stayed together. Would we have moved away together to university? And would we have built the foundations of life yet? All these things I shall never know. So maybe I learnt the heard way that the grass might not always be greener on the other side ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
I hope you have been keeping well. I have. So, after last weeks awkwardness with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's and Miss Tweedle-Dee's work colleague, Miss Lace, I am pleased to announce that everything is as normal and we are in mutual agreement that Miss Lace's feelings are not serious. At least that's what I am being told, I still feel that there might be more than meets the eye - Watch this space!
This week I finished my job with the local flooring company and once I had passed all my training with my new company I took my last journey to outer Bedfordshire to say my goodbye's and collect my things from my old office. Everyone was somewhat shocked to see me go which surprised me given the fact that nothing was rarely kept quiet, especially someone leaving. Regardless they were all lovely and courteous about my departure and wished me all the best as did I. To be honest I actually felt a little sad I was leaving despite only being there less than four months. I suppose I just felt as if this would be the final in a a long string of jobs I have previously had. A small part of me felt let down recalling what Mr. Workaholic had said last time I had to encounter his massive, fat head. (See Post 'A Shock, An Invitation And Compulsory Meeting') Mr. Workaholic's words still ring clear in my ears as I remember him attempting small talk in the seating area of my local bank. Referring to the flooring company role I had recently landed at the time he scoffed 'So, are you actually planning on keeping this job then?' At the time I was so shocked and taken aback by what he had said that I simply brushed it off icily and said something like 'Of course' but secretly I was completely blown away by his arrogance and sheer uncompasionate nature, given the fact that we had sent nearly two years of highs and lows together, you would think he would be more thoughtful of what was coming out of the hole in his face. Maybe not though! However it is not this Ex that plays on my mind as much lately. Following a date night with Miss Chocolate and and old college friend, Miss Tatts, of ours a few weeks ago my first serious boyfriend has been popping up more often than usual. As we all bumbled down the residential street towards Miss Tatts house we passed a familiar driveway. Upon closer inspection I noticed a copper haired gentleman in the driver's seat of a learner vehicle. Chills sparkled up my spine as I realised I had just seen my first love in nearly four years.
I suppose we all have a love boxed up inside us labelled 'The One That Got Away' and for me that was my first serious relationship with Mr. Ginge. Now, Mr. Ginge arrived on the scene shortly after I finished attending High School with Mr. Coffee and Mr. Woof; and long, long before Mr. Workaholic. We met rather conventionally though Sixth Form. Childhood sweethearts you could call it. On my first day I made friends with a young chap who introduced me to all of his peers. Amongst the misfits and outcasts was Mr. Ginge. Taller than the rest at about 6ft something and with fiery red hair he was hard to miss. At the time I was unusually shy and when it came to our first encounter Mr. Ginger made sure I wouldn't forget him. Thinking I was cool a few days into term, I handed round a note pad for everyone to sign their mobile numbers and e-mail addresses so as to contact them outside of the study hours. But when it came to Mr. Ginge's turn he disregarded my simple blue Biro he took out a massive black marker pen and began to write his details in the rest of the book, using up a page for a single, scrawled letter. Smiling and acting coy we flirted for a week or two both inside and outside of the school gates. Looking back I can see that he boyish pokes, jokes and hitting was just a bad attempt at flirting and an excuse to touch me. Men, eh?
On the eve of my 17th birthday we began chatting via E-mail. Mr. Ginge had just got in from doing Cadet's training to be in the Army and was tired but had something to tell me. As my eyes scanned the laptop screen that evening I read over and over how this handsome lad that I had only know for less than three weeks was telling me how beautiful I was and how he loved to hear me laugh. "I love your cuddles," he typed continuing with "your eyes are something magical too." Flattered and still in slight shock he asked me to be his girlfriend. Cockily I said that if he had the balls to do it in person I would oblige and so he vowed that tomorrow on my 17th birthday he would ask me out. Less than 12 hours later were standing on opposite ends of the court-yard at Sixth Form avoiding each other completely and discussing what to do with friends. Finally after a whilst our friends forced us into a quieter area together and then scurried round the corner to hear what was going on. With me hiding behind a fan of birthday cards and Mr. Ginge chewing on the end of a yogurt sachet, he made the proposal again. within moments of me saying 'yes' we had all our friends rallying around us congratulating and asking for kisses and weirdly pictures of the newly 'wed' couple. Following that happy moment came more than a years worth of terrible times in my life, all of which Mr. Ginge stuck by me. I think its safe to say that there were more low's than high's and he could have easily ran a mile at the first whiff of trouble. But he didn't. He stayed with me and made life bearable. Some of my brightest moments I shared with that man and I can honestly say that there will always be a place in my heart for him.
However all was not well in paradise and after transferring to College in mid-September we hit a rough patch. Mr. Ginge and I went from seeing each other every day to barely seeing each other once a week and it took its toll. After a while I wondered weather this was it. Was Mr. Ginge 'The One'? Was he the man I was destine to grow old with and start a family? Was this all life had to offer? After a year and a month I called an end to mine and Mr. Ginge's relationship. He was devastated and completely at a loss with heart-break. Ironically I was to undergo the exact same treatment less than three years later with Mr. Workaholic. Like me I never fully explained myself before calling it off and like Mr. Workaholic, wanted to see if there was more to life than just that. Sadly I think that that initial first experience with Mr. Ginge made my separation from Mr. Workaholic all the more harder. I knew that this was something that Mr. Workaholic had to do in order to live life in a way that would not have been possible given our relationship, but ultimately that decision is one I hope he both regrets and looks back on as I do with my relationship with Mr. Ginge.
A part of me wonders weather Mr. Ginge thinks about me as I think about him. Does he wonder what I am doing? Does he think about what I do? Does he reflect on the memories we shared? I do. I sometimes contemplate what life would be like now if we had stayed together. Would we have moved away together to university? And would we have built the foundations of life yet? All these things I shall never know. So maybe I learnt the heard way that the grass might not always be greener on the other side ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
A Termination And A Flirtation ...
Hi,
Following a roller coaster of a weekend last week with Miss Chocolate things have slowed down a bit, almost to a halt. This past week I have been thinking 'Isnt it funny how things turn out sometimes?' - You put so much of your time and energy into working and then realise that its all in vain, particularly when it comes to the termination of employment. Weather it be on good terms or not, the feelings are still the same and ones that I am familiar with, but strangely not as much this time around. If you haven't already cottoned on to what I'm trying to say then I shall explain how I have become newly unemployed.
After a few months working in the offices of a flooring company and weeks of knowing that I will probably not be continuing my career there I am finally out of the job. The explanation was simple. The last lady that worked there had done so for more than fifteen years and was at the top of her game before leaving just before Christmas last year. I was to replace her and with that my employers presumed that I would quickly be able to match her standards of working, which obviously is impossible in such a short amount of time. Like I said it was a long time coming and so don't feel completely awful about the situation as I have had some time to prepare for it. The two office staff that I work with explained that it wasn't anything personal and that they would be more than happy to give me a good reference. I knew that they were being honest as we all got along very well; I just think that maybe they had underestimated the job and its duties. Regardless, its not the end of the world. I finish there officially yesterday but am choosing to keep working for another fortnight to get some extra cash for my holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in just over a month's time.
Speaking of Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, we have patched things up and are learning that we are all different and think differently too. We met last Wednesday at a local pub after I briefly hosted them in last weeks post. There were tears and laughter but essentially we sorted it all out and after which we started discussing our up and coming holiday to Mallorca, Spain in a few weeks time. The night was wearing to the end and graciously Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me a ride to the station. I obliged and we walked to the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tipsily singing our way down the street. However what we found when we located the small blue car was like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. flashing lights, the rev of car engines and youths stood around watching the Hundreds of cars parade up and down the car-park. My dear friend had only parked where a car rally was due to be hosted that night. Probably drawn up on some social networking site and with lost of scary noises and faces about we tried to search for the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggling to keep our giggling under control. 'Call the police' I thought, whilst we bundled into the small vehicle, an idea that both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb agreed with. My reasoning not to call them was that there was not trouble and we would be safe. In fact I had noticed a few faces I had attended high school with some years ago. After what seemed like an eternity we were finally let out of our small parking spaced and allowed to go on our way, but not with some heavy persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to make Miss Tweedle-Dumb drive round the car park and join in with the hooded youngsters. As we sped away the sounds of banging exhausts and bouncing bass faded into the distance along with the city noises that I was already familiar with.
As a matter of fact I have just come back from an evening spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and a rather amorous friend of theirs. An impromptu trip to a nearby house-ware shop was this evening s entertainment, followed up by a side helping of guilt and awkwardness. So after I had told them both of the recent job situation, they had invited themselves round and said that later we would hit the pub for a few. Subsequently a few hours into my work day I get a phone call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb asking if I would prefer to hit the shops instead. And, as a red-blooded female whose just been paid of course I'm not going to turn down a bit of retail therapy, even if I don't buy anything. A work colleague of Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's, Miss Lace, tagged along for the ride too. Now, my 'relationship' with Miss Lace is slightly awkward I feel. Ever since we met on a cold, blustery night in November ready to watch the fireworks back home, I have always felt something that's not quiet right between us. Its not because we didn't hit it off or didn't get on well, in fact I feel that's its quiet the opposite.
What with it being the first time I had met Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work friends (Miss Lace included) I tried to make an effort to impress and make them comfortable in my presence. But something was different between Miss Lace and I. I didn't mention this to the girls and kept it to myself, thinking that I was just being silly, but in late December I confessed what I thought might be true. "Now, I don't want to blow my ow trumpet" I started once the conversation had been brought up. ''But I think that maybe she fancies me?!'' I couldn't quite believe I had just said that. It sounded so egotistical and pig-headed of me. I instantly brushed it off but ever since I have never been able to tell weather Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's jokes about Miss Lace and I are just that, jokes, or are they more with some sort of cryptic clues behind them. I mean, I'm all up for a laugh and a joke, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings,especially if what I think and what I'm being told is true and that Miss Lace does have a 'thing' for me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm only into men and I don't share the same feelings that Miss Lace may or may not have for me. I know that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb like to make little quips and have fun, but sometimes it goes too far. What makes it worse is that I don't really know Miss Lace that well and as a result don't know her sense of humour so going along with the rest of the gang may not be in such good taste. Naturally I am a flirtatious and friendly person, wanting to include everyone in everything and let them in with open arms but I feel myself clamming up whenever I am around Miss Lace for fear of leading her along or making her think that there is something blossoming when there really isn't. To be honest it is somewhat stressful not knowing how to deal with a situation that could or could not be.
If Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work colleague does have a soft-spot for me then I am flattered but at the same time have the uneasy conversation of not receipting those feelings and apologising for a possible false pretence - Something I don't really want to do. Regardless, I am sure its all a joke and it will work out better in the end. It always does ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
Following a roller coaster of a weekend last week with Miss Chocolate things have slowed down a bit, almost to a halt. This past week I have been thinking 'Isnt it funny how things turn out sometimes?' - You put so much of your time and energy into working and then realise that its all in vain, particularly when it comes to the termination of employment. Weather it be on good terms or not, the feelings are still the same and ones that I am familiar with, but strangely not as much this time around. If you haven't already cottoned on to what I'm trying to say then I shall explain how I have become newly unemployed.
After a few months working in the offices of a flooring company and weeks of knowing that I will probably not be continuing my career there I am finally out of the job. The explanation was simple. The last lady that worked there had done so for more than fifteen years and was at the top of her game before leaving just before Christmas last year. I was to replace her and with that my employers presumed that I would quickly be able to match her standards of working, which obviously is impossible in such a short amount of time. Like I said it was a long time coming and so don't feel completely awful about the situation as I have had some time to prepare for it. The two office staff that I work with explained that it wasn't anything personal and that they would be more than happy to give me a good reference. I knew that they were being honest as we all got along very well; I just think that maybe they had underestimated the job and its duties. Regardless, its not the end of the world. I finish there officially yesterday but am choosing to keep working for another fortnight to get some extra cash for my holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in just over a month's time.
Speaking of Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, we have patched things up and are learning that we are all different and think differently too. We met last Wednesday at a local pub after I briefly hosted them in last weeks post. There were tears and laughter but essentially we sorted it all out and after which we started discussing our up and coming holiday to Mallorca, Spain in a few weeks time. The night was wearing to the end and graciously Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me a ride to the station. I obliged and we walked to the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tipsily singing our way down the street. However what we found when we located the small blue car was like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. flashing lights, the rev of car engines and youths stood around watching the Hundreds of cars parade up and down the car-park. My dear friend had only parked where a car rally was due to be hosted that night. Probably drawn up on some social networking site and with lost of scary noises and faces about we tried to search for the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggling to keep our giggling under control. 'Call the police' I thought, whilst we bundled into the small vehicle, an idea that both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb agreed with. My reasoning not to call them was that there was not trouble and we would be safe. In fact I had noticed a few faces I had attended high school with some years ago. After what seemed like an eternity we were finally let out of our small parking spaced and allowed to go on our way, but not with some heavy persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to make Miss Tweedle-Dumb drive round the car park and join in with the hooded youngsters. As we sped away the sounds of banging exhausts and bouncing bass faded into the distance along with the city noises that I was already familiar with.
As a matter of fact I have just come back from an evening spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and a rather amorous friend of theirs. An impromptu trip to a nearby house-ware shop was this evening s entertainment, followed up by a side helping of guilt and awkwardness. So after I had told them both of the recent job situation, they had invited themselves round and said that later we would hit the pub for a few. Subsequently a few hours into my work day I get a phone call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb asking if I would prefer to hit the shops instead. And, as a red-blooded female whose just been paid of course I'm not going to turn down a bit of retail therapy, even if I don't buy anything. A work colleague of Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's, Miss Lace, tagged along for the ride too. Now, my 'relationship' with Miss Lace is slightly awkward I feel. Ever since we met on a cold, blustery night in November ready to watch the fireworks back home, I have always felt something that's not quiet right between us. Its not because we didn't hit it off or didn't get on well, in fact I feel that's its quiet the opposite.
What with it being the first time I had met Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work friends (Miss Lace included) I tried to make an effort to impress and make them comfortable in my presence. But something was different between Miss Lace and I. I didn't mention this to the girls and kept it to myself, thinking that I was just being silly, but in late December I confessed what I thought might be true. "Now, I don't want to blow my ow trumpet" I started once the conversation had been brought up. ''But I think that maybe she fancies me?!'' I couldn't quite believe I had just said that. It sounded so egotistical and pig-headed of me. I instantly brushed it off but ever since I have never been able to tell weather Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's jokes about Miss Lace and I are just that, jokes, or are they more with some sort of cryptic clues behind them. I mean, I'm all up for a laugh and a joke, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings,especially if what I think and what I'm being told is true and that Miss Lace does have a 'thing' for me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm only into men and I don't share the same feelings that Miss Lace may or may not have for me. I know that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb like to make little quips and have fun, but sometimes it goes too far. What makes it worse is that I don't really know Miss Lace that well and as a result don't know her sense of humour so going along with the rest of the gang may not be in such good taste. Naturally I am a flirtatious and friendly person, wanting to include everyone in everything and let them in with open arms but I feel myself clamming up whenever I am around Miss Lace for fear of leading her along or making her think that there is something blossoming when there really isn't. To be honest it is somewhat stressful not knowing how to deal with a situation that could or could not be.
If Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work colleague does have a soft-spot for me then I am flattered but at the same time have the uneasy conversation of not receipting those feelings and apologising for a possible false pretence - Something I don't really want to do. Regardless, I am sure its all a joke and it will work out better in the end. It always does ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
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