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Evening Everybody,
So after last week was spent indulging in a wonderfully prepared duck dinner from Mr. Cheese, a spot of golf and the seaside I was glad to only have a few days left of being officially unemployed before starting my new job. However relaxing was to be brought to a crash landing when on Wednesday last week I had my morning interrupted by a phone call quite literally out of the blue. Answering the withheld number, anticipating it being something to do with work or maybe a call centre about blasted PPI again I listened for an answer to my 'Hello'. Nothing came. I gestured again. Still nothing. Just as I went to hang up I heard muffling and thinking it was just a soggy line form an Indian call centre I reattached my phone to my ear and listened. What crept into my ear was the sound of my mother's voice.
"I know you can hear me" she said in a slow and deep tone. I loathed it already. Completely shocked and stunned like a rabbit in the headlights of an on coming car I froze, taken aback to darker times as a young teenager. After introducing herself once more she proceeded to make pointless small talk. When I came to ask the question as to why I was encountering with such a phone call I was met by a surprising tale. Apparently someone had told my mother through the grape vine that things were not great for me, that I had been through a trauma and wasn't doing too well. Ha! The thought that something such as being unemployed or possibly being struck down with Influenza was of concern to my mother was somewhat odd, especially given the circumstances that many a time before I had been in a far worse place, often at her own doing and she did not seem to take an interest in my well-being then. So why now? I don't know and to be honest I don't really care. I made polite conversation although I was unable to hide in my voice that I was sceptical and suspicious of such a communication. At least with an email or letter I could bin it. 'How do I get out of this?' I thought to myself as I struggled to deal with the situation. Luckily I didn't have to think for long as after again more irrelevant and trivial chit-chat the conversation was terminated by myself making excuses that I had stuff to do and ending it there.
One comment did stick out to me though and that was more-so the reaction I felt rather than the comment itself. I suppose in an attempt to show feelings other than hate and poison she exclaimed how the previous evening she had dreamt about me as a small girl in denim dungaree's with buttons. I could hear her smiles through the phone but I did not feel anything for her other than sympathy; The sort of sympathy you would feel for a homeless man or a lonely old lady. I felt sorry for this being on the end of the line but I did not feel empathy and to be honest, neither did I care, feelings of which were lost long ago. I know that after that six-minute conversation I will have to face something similar to that in the future. I am not looking forward to it although until the time comes when she can no longer contact me I will just have to deal with her intruding in on my life again and again.
Whilst it was a bummer having to deal with something that knocked me for six mid-week it was also nice having the time off and sorting out some little odd's and sod's, but I really do love working and spending my days shuffling paper and tapping away on the keyboard whilst nattering to colleagues about the current affairs and daily TV dribble. Oh how I have missed it. Whilst today was my first day in my new role I feel that whilst at the moment it is a bit of a mess and the systems need a tidy-up, the role itself is not all that complex and neither are the systems in which hopefully won't take too long to master. As for the eye-candy; Well unfortunately the men are all over thirty and aren't much to look at, but I suppose that is why I have that dashing Mr. Cheese!
Speaking of which I had a lovely weekend spent eating out (not in that way although I wish to god it was!), socialising over wine with friends and watching wildlife programmes before falling asleep in each others arms. It is a far cry from some of the feelings I had been brewing the last few weeks. Just before Christmas Mr. Cheese had decided that later on in 2014 he would like to travel the world, following in his friends footsteps by going out to Ghana in Africa to teach English to children and coach a football team out there too. And whilst it sounds like the perfect route into a teaching career back home in Blighty I can't help but feel a little left out. A few weeks ago I had mentioned how wonderful my Boyfriend's plans sound and he had responded by mentioning lightly about me coming along too. Knowing it was one of his throw-away comments I shrugged it off not really thinking about it very much until I was alone and bored with the Internet. Tapping into Google I found more information that made me want to join in Mr. Cheese's adventure. After a wonderful Saturday lounging and socialising with friends and during some idle pillow talk in bed on Sunday morning, I approaching the subject cautiously as I always do I mentioned to him that I had thought about coming along on his three-month-trip. Sadly the feelings were not mutual and I was somewhat deflated to learn that the throw-away comment made days earlier was now null and void. Whilst I tried to hide my discontent and slight sadness I thought of the other big issue that would surround us come Autumn. Our Relationship!
By the way Mr. Cheese was talking of marriage proposals and being hit on by locals, not to mention 'meeting' new people along his travels I felt as though the decision to separate was already made before it had even really been discussed properly. This only added to how upset I already felt and I tried to talk about it with Mr. Cheese but unfortunately other things, like football, seemed to take over in importance. Over the passed few days after speaking to Miss Tweedle-Dumb about the whole thing and realising that I too will be single as the leaves begin to fall I have tried to keep my chin up; Especially not wanting to cause a distraction from me concentrating on my new job, but it is hard when I know the end is somewhat nigh. You see, I know I think into things far too much, and not just with Mr. Cheese. With everything from the wink the bin man gave me to why that women in Starbucks gave me extra cream? I can't help it. The worst thing is I know I do it and the majority of the time I get so worked up that I simply cannot talk about it. Whenever I try and bring anything up that troubles me with Mr. Cheese I always clam up. Looking into his eyes of cool, crystal blue I end up stuttering and stammering the words refusing to come out into the open for fear that I will be judged and shrugged off with simple sweet nothings. Last week it came to a head when I confronted my beloved boyfriend about all my worldly issues surrounding 'us'!
Ever since we decided to give it a go properly, I have been feeling as though the excitement has gone, disappeared into thin air along with our frivolous frolics and flirtations prior to our break at the beginning of the year. I know its really silly and that I shouldn't let it bother me but the sheer fact that I know my man has been with someone else; Doing the things we do, doing the things we don't do, having fun and building on initial first impressions with another women makes me ill. In the time that we were apart we both saw different people. Obviously you know that all my dates (if you can even call some of them that) were a complete shambles and to be brutally honest I was only really doing it for attention. As for Mr. Cheese it was like he was living the high life, going on successful dates and getting to know other girls that were much prettier, slimmer, more intelligent, more ambitious, more flirty (as if that's possible!) and generally more better than me. A girl Mr. Cheese was seeing in the beginning (AKA Miss South-Africa) fizzled out by the end of January but after our encounter the day I moved into my new home Mr. Cheese saw new opportunities. He met a girl whom shall only remain as Miss Roast but
Miss Roast was far closer to his 'type' than I would ever be. Long brown wavy hair, a fair complexion, dark eyes and a large chest were all things I failed to possess and as a result after looking at photo's of her in all her humble prettiness I felt very low. When I found out on the morning of my first football match a few weeks after getting back together with Mr. Cheese, that they had slept together it literally ripped me apart. Crying the entire of the way home from London after spending the weekend with my new boyfriend, I felt ridiculous knowing that I was the worst one out of both of us for sleeping with two different people in the space of a fortnight both of which were ONS's. I kept saying to myself I cant be hypocritical for his rendezvous with Miss Roast when 'exploring' was exactly what we had agreed to do and even more so with the fact that I crossed that line first in sleeping with Mr. DJ and Mr. Rockclimber. Although I still try to hide it, It still makes me a little sick to the stomach to think that he has even kissed someone else let alone having full-blown sexual intercourse whilst there I was alone in my flat crying over Rom-Com's, eating melted chocolate and feeling sorry for myself. Maybe that is one of the reasons I deleted all traces of Miss Roast and Miss South-Africa off my boyfriend's phone. Maybe it was jealousy? Maybe it was low self-esteem? Maybe it was the paranoia that I knew I'm not that great compared to them and that he could easily go back to them, especially since we live in different cities at the moment.
I suppose in a way I will just have to learn to live with it and accept that it was me he chose; Maybe not to spend the rest of his life with or to bear children with, but for the short-term to make each other happy. I know I won't we handed to him by my father in a white gown and I know he wont be words of encouragement whilst I birth our first child but what I do know is that for the time being he makes me happy and I would like to think that the feelings are reciprocated. Obviously in years to come I may well be eating my words as I know all too well how things can change in an instant. I really do like Mr. Cheese and I worry most days that I like him alot more than he likes me, but I suppose only time will tell and maybe Ghana will be a good thing for us as a couple. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say and our love-story is only proof of that.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Miss South-Africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Miss South-Africa. Show all posts
Monday, 28 April 2014
Monday, 27 January 2014
A Greek Tragedy
Hi,
So here I am. All moved in, definitely not unpacked and slightly exhausted still from the week I have just had. Oh, and to top it all off I have a stinking cold and have been investing in Beechams since Saturday. This flu stuff sucks! I suppose it is no surprise really since I have been run off my feet all week what with preparing for the move and all. My new abode, whilst freezing cold is much nicer than my old place and will soon be a Palace fit for a Aphrodite herself. With its angled ceilings and views over the town I can see myself being very, very happy here. But as I am sure you are all well aware, my house move is not the only thing I have been preparing for this week ...
After last week's post I went to Dad's for dinner and for once I don't think we argued. I like the fact that when we don't live under the same roof and we have our own space we seem to get along a lot better. I just wish sometimes we could have more time together. And now I have my very own flat I can have both him and his girlfriend round for dinner. Dad was able to lend me some unhelpful advice about the impending Mr. Cheese meeting and also about moving. Although struggling to save up to move had taken its toll on my finances and so I had to pluck up the courage to ask him for money to help me move. Obviously I plan on paying it back but I am sure that many of you will recognise just how hard it is to save for anything nower days, let alone to live by yourself. Wednesday was a good night out with the girls to take my mind off things, until I received a message from Mr. Cheese. He was home earlier than anticipated and could bring forward our meeting to Friday evening rather than Sunday mid-morning. Thinking that it would be better to get it over and done with I obliged and awaited Friday evening like anticipating a bullet to the head.
Friday went well with the move, despite having to take off two doors, four handles and nearly several fingers getting my sofa into my little home. But that was the least of my worries that day, and as the time Mr. Cheese and I planned to meet grew ever closer I became sick with a near faint-rendering concoction of emotions. As the heavens opened, I witnessed him pull up in his car get out and with only a few seconds passed I was kissed passionately by the all consuming Mr. Cheese. Although taken aback I didn't pull away, but at the same time I failed to respond to his kisses in the rain. Pushing Mr. Cheese away I mentioned about going into the warmth of my old flat and so we made the journey inside. In my heart I knew, climbing the stairs, that I would not come out the same way I was going in. Sitting down on the edge of a freshly made bed we made small talk, avoiding the elephant in the room. I crossed my legs. I entwined my arms. But nothing stopped Mr. Cheese from attempting to kiss me or cuddle me. 'So much love to give and yet none of it is for me' I thought. I couldn't go on any further and as he leaned in to kiss me again I asked that all important question - "Where are you at?"
Answering only simply was the words I had heard a million times before. The same phrase that had been echoing in my mind for the past seven-months since we first met on a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of last year. My head spinning I struggled to take it all in. You would have thought that after knowing that this would be the case I would have been prepared for such a statement. I suppose in a sense a tiny part of me thought that it would end in a fairytale and that everything in life would finally be fitting into place. My very own Zeus. But alas this was not the case, how could it have been. Mr. Cheese did not love me, despite what he may proclaim. The words "I Love You" had been a mere phrase to appease me and not meant as I had truly hoped. His admiration for me was not a match for mine and so it had to end. And as we sat in silence, each one of us begging the other to make a move I rehearsed what I had planned for such an event as this. Cool and calm I explained the way I felt and made Mr. Cheese clear that I could not continue with whatever it was that we had without some sort of clarity. I needed black or white and all he was giving me was grey. I continued to elucidate that I could no longer be a friend either for the pure and simple reason that I love him too much to stand by and watch as he dates other girls.
Talking continued for hours until our stomachs rumbled. Thinking logically and knowing I didn't want a take-away, Mr. Cheese and I went to dinner. Ironically we went to the same restaurant where only a few months previously we had sat lovingly across the same table from each other discussing our plans for Christmas together. As we sat down to order I enquired about his dates with the now not so talkative Miss South-Africa. Turns out she is a right do-gooder; a charity worker who went on a twatting gap yaaar (said poshly) to somewhere with mountains. The goddess herself (AKA: Miss South-Africa) has blonde hair and a slim figure, something in which I envy more than life itself. Irony would have it that she shares the same name and look as the girl Mr. Workaholic dated soon after we separated a few year earlier. Funny how life likes to take a dump on you sometimes!
As we ate over dinner and with nothing to loose I thought I would explain the in's and out's (almost literally) to Mr. Cheese about the encounter I had with Mr. DJ. Laughing along I hoped he would seething inside as I was about Miss South-Africa, but truth be told I knew he wouldn't because he didn't love me like I love him. Placing his cutlery down I made a statement about not being able to get laid any more and missing the company of a man to which came a response about not having to give up the sex. I pretended I didn't hear as I went to the bathroom. I felt sick. Really sick. Was it the food or the conversation? I didn't know but tried to put the fact that a fortnight had already passed to the back of my mind. Returning to the table I asked for the rest of my meal to be take-away. Leaving the restaurant I inclined myself for the goodbye's that were to come.
Pulling up outside my new bachelor pad, Mr. Cheese accompanied me inside helping with a few things left over from moving. Settling down some boxes in the hall-way I gave his the grand tour of my forty-foot-squared home. tour over we soon settled down and as I opened a bottle of wine I asked what Mr. Cheese's curfew was. Eleven. "Well it was just gone eleven when we left the restaurant so you should probably get moving" I said as I glugged myself a glass of Rose, not offering any to my commitment-phobe guest. I was stunned by the arrogance of the answer being that it was eleven the following morning, implying that apparently Mr. Cheese was staying the night. Of course I didn't want him to stay over, knowing that we would be sharing a bed again, but the cheekiness halted any anger in its tracks, replacing it with a smirk and a naughty grin. Safe to say that the first night in my new flat was one I wont forget. At least the sofa has been christened properly now.
The sofa wasn't the only thing to get christened in the first twenty-four-hours as the following morning I awoke after an awful nights sleep to being violently sick, vomiting into my aluminium sink. Classy. Attending to my side I knew that Mr. Cheese felt helpless and in a round about way I wondered why it was now that he wanted to look after me knowing that he would not be a permanent figure as I had hoped. But as the sun rose and streamed through my window, the magnitude of the situation hit my dearest Mr. Cheese like a bolt from the gods themselves. I lay in bed beside Mr. Cheese feeling the shadow of this flu taking hold and as I struggled to hold down sips of water I took notice to what he had to say. I listened intently as I saw his beautiful blue eyes fill up with tears and nearly choking myself I couldn't help but want to hold him close and promise it would be OK, but I couldn't. Not now. Not ever. It is just a sad fact that Mr. Cheese couldn't see the potential that such a small risk and such an easy gamble would reap such benefits and rewards for a proper relationship between us and just how much more happier it could have made us.
Eventually we dragged ourselves from the warm sheets to get dressed and say our farewells. Standing there in my hall-way, dark and cold, tears began to spill over Mr. Cheese's cheeks and down his soft, warm face. Almost as if watching from afar Mr. Cheese began a prose about how his family and friends had fallen in love with me as much as he had and that I was a 'keeper'. Mr. Cheese spoke of his promise to his elderly Grandpa and Grandma over Christmas whilst I was back with my own family. He had made a promised them that he would never let me go and always keep me close, making me a full-time girlfriend soon. But as Mr. Cheese's voice split and cracked he croaked about letting them all down. As he fell into me, sobbing I couldn't help but shed a silent tear myself for what could have been. Wiping my flushed cheeks as we pulled away I ushered him to go knowing that him staying any longer would just prolong the pain and suffering. And so he left. I watched as he got in his car to leave, driving off slowly down the road. As soon as he left I crumbled like a marble statue knowing that I may never see him again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And whilst I know it's over between Mr. Cheese and I, it seems I cant help but wish for a little blue car to appear outside the window of my Palace.
After that I had no motivation to do anything around the flat. I needed desperately to unpack but was lethargic and the cold wasn't helping. Knowing that Miss Tweedle-Dumb was at a conference I dialled Miss Tweedle-Dee's number, praying that for once she would pick-up. And she did. After a long conversation, playing out again the scenes from the night before I started to feel much better and through her natural power of persuasion, Miss Tweedle-Dee convinced me to go out Saturday night with some friends. So I did. And what a night I had. In fact the rest of the weekend was a success after the initial stumble. Saturday night I went to a local gig back home with some old friends who are getting married in the spring (I am doing their photography - Daunting I know!). But also at the gig was an unexpected face of Mr. DJ! Thankfully he was busy working the gig and band so didn't have much time to talk. He did however make the point of saying hello and it was almost, just almost, as if that ram-shackled night in the back of his tiny car didn't happen at all. Buying him a drink we looked at each other as if to acknowledge the fact that we both still remembered the night clearly. Turns out that Mr. DJ is single and I think I may have a certain future Bride and Groom trying to set us up. Whether it goes anywhere or not is another matter but quite frankly I only have a craving for Cheese.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So here I am. All moved in, definitely not unpacked and slightly exhausted still from the week I have just had. Oh, and to top it all off I have a stinking cold and have been investing in Beechams since Saturday. This flu stuff sucks! I suppose it is no surprise really since I have been run off my feet all week what with preparing for the move and all. My new abode, whilst freezing cold is much nicer than my old place and will soon be a Palace fit for a Aphrodite herself. With its angled ceilings and views over the town I can see myself being very, very happy here. But as I am sure you are all well aware, my house move is not the only thing I have been preparing for this week ...
After last week's post I went to Dad's for dinner and for once I don't think we argued. I like the fact that when we don't live under the same roof and we have our own space we seem to get along a lot better. I just wish sometimes we could have more time together. And now I have my very own flat I can have both him and his girlfriend round for dinner. Dad was able to lend me some unhelpful advice about the impending Mr. Cheese meeting and also about moving. Although struggling to save up to move had taken its toll on my finances and so I had to pluck up the courage to ask him for money to help me move. Obviously I plan on paying it back but I am sure that many of you will recognise just how hard it is to save for anything nower days, let alone to live by yourself. Wednesday was a good night out with the girls to take my mind off things, until I received a message from Mr. Cheese. He was home earlier than anticipated and could bring forward our meeting to Friday evening rather than Sunday mid-morning. Thinking that it would be better to get it over and done with I obliged and awaited Friday evening like anticipating a bullet to the head.
Friday went well with the move, despite having to take off two doors, four handles and nearly several fingers getting my sofa into my little home. But that was the least of my worries that day, and as the time Mr. Cheese and I planned to meet grew ever closer I became sick with a near faint-rendering concoction of emotions. As the heavens opened, I witnessed him pull up in his car get out and with only a few seconds passed I was kissed passionately by the all consuming Mr. Cheese. Although taken aback I didn't pull away, but at the same time I failed to respond to his kisses in the rain. Pushing Mr. Cheese away I mentioned about going into the warmth of my old flat and so we made the journey inside. In my heart I knew, climbing the stairs, that I would not come out the same way I was going in. Sitting down on the edge of a freshly made bed we made small talk, avoiding the elephant in the room. I crossed my legs. I entwined my arms. But nothing stopped Mr. Cheese from attempting to kiss me or cuddle me. 'So much love to give and yet none of it is for me' I thought. I couldn't go on any further and as he leaned in to kiss me again I asked that all important question - "Where are you at?"
Answering only simply was the words I had heard a million times before. The same phrase that had been echoing in my mind for the past seven-months since we first met on a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of last year. My head spinning I struggled to take it all in. You would have thought that after knowing that this would be the case I would have been prepared for such a statement. I suppose in a sense a tiny part of me thought that it would end in a fairytale and that everything in life would finally be fitting into place. My very own Zeus. But alas this was not the case, how could it have been. Mr. Cheese did not love me, despite what he may proclaim. The words "I Love You" had been a mere phrase to appease me and not meant as I had truly hoped. His admiration for me was not a match for mine and so it had to end. And as we sat in silence, each one of us begging the other to make a move I rehearsed what I had planned for such an event as this. Cool and calm I explained the way I felt and made Mr. Cheese clear that I could not continue with whatever it was that we had without some sort of clarity. I needed black or white and all he was giving me was grey. I continued to elucidate that I could no longer be a friend either for the pure and simple reason that I love him too much to stand by and watch as he dates other girls.
Talking continued for hours until our stomachs rumbled. Thinking logically and knowing I didn't want a take-away, Mr. Cheese and I went to dinner. Ironically we went to the same restaurant where only a few months previously we had sat lovingly across the same table from each other discussing our plans for Christmas together. As we sat down to order I enquired about his dates with the now not so talkative Miss South-Africa. Turns out she is a right do-gooder; a charity worker who went on a twatting gap yaaar (said poshly) to somewhere with mountains. The goddess herself (AKA: Miss South-Africa) has blonde hair and a slim figure, something in which I envy more than life itself. Irony would have it that she shares the same name and look as the girl Mr. Workaholic dated soon after we separated a few year earlier. Funny how life likes to take a dump on you sometimes!
As we ate over dinner and with nothing to loose I thought I would explain the in's and out's (almost literally) to Mr. Cheese about the encounter I had with Mr. DJ. Laughing along I hoped he would seething inside as I was about Miss South-Africa, but truth be told I knew he wouldn't because he didn't love me like I love him. Placing his cutlery down I made a statement about not being able to get laid any more and missing the company of a man to which came a response about not having to give up the sex. I pretended I didn't hear as I went to the bathroom. I felt sick. Really sick. Was it the food or the conversation? I didn't know but tried to put the fact that a fortnight had already passed to the back of my mind. Returning to the table I asked for the rest of my meal to be take-away. Leaving the restaurant I inclined myself for the goodbye's that were to come.
Pulling up outside my new bachelor pad, Mr. Cheese accompanied me inside helping with a few things left over from moving. Settling down some boxes in the hall-way I gave his the grand tour of my forty-foot-squared home. tour over we soon settled down and as I opened a bottle of wine I asked what Mr. Cheese's curfew was. Eleven. "Well it was just gone eleven when we left the restaurant so you should probably get moving" I said as I glugged myself a glass of Rose, not offering any to my commitment-phobe guest. I was stunned by the arrogance of the answer being that it was eleven the following morning, implying that apparently Mr. Cheese was staying the night. Of course I didn't want him to stay over, knowing that we would be sharing a bed again, but the cheekiness halted any anger in its tracks, replacing it with a smirk and a naughty grin. Safe to say that the first night in my new flat was one I wont forget. At least the sofa has been christened properly now.
The sofa wasn't the only thing to get christened in the first twenty-four-hours as the following morning I awoke after an awful nights sleep to being violently sick, vomiting into my aluminium sink. Classy. Attending to my side I knew that Mr. Cheese felt helpless and in a round about way I wondered why it was now that he wanted to look after me knowing that he would not be a permanent figure as I had hoped. But as the sun rose and streamed through my window, the magnitude of the situation hit my dearest Mr. Cheese like a bolt from the gods themselves. I lay in bed beside Mr. Cheese feeling the shadow of this flu taking hold and as I struggled to hold down sips of water I took notice to what he had to say. I listened intently as I saw his beautiful blue eyes fill up with tears and nearly choking myself I couldn't help but want to hold him close and promise it would be OK, but I couldn't. Not now. Not ever. It is just a sad fact that Mr. Cheese couldn't see the potential that such a small risk and such an easy gamble would reap such benefits and rewards for a proper relationship between us and just how much more happier it could have made us.
Eventually we dragged ourselves from the warm sheets to get dressed and say our farewells. Standing there in my hall-way, dark and cold, tears began to spill over Mr. Cheese's cheeks and down his soft, warm face. Almost as if watching from afar Mr. Cheese began a prose about how his family and friends had fallen in love with me as much as he had and that I was a 'keeper'. Mr. Cheese spoke of his promise to his elderly Grandpa and Grandma over Christmas whilst I was back with my own family. He had made a promised them that he would never let me go and always keep me close, making me a full-time girlfriend soon. But as Mr. Cheese's voice split and cracked he croaked about letting them all down. As he fell into me, sobbing I couldn't help but shed a silent tear myself for what could have been. Wiping my flushed cheeks as we pulled away I ushered him to go knowing that him staying any longer would just prolong the pain and suffering. And so he left. I watched as he got in his car to leave, driving off slowly down the road. As soon as he left I crumbled like a marble statue knowing that I may never see him again. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And whilst I know it's over between Mr. Cheese and I, it seems I cant help but wish for a little blue car to appear outside the window of my Palace.
After that I had no motivation to do anything around the flat. I needed desperately to unpack but was lethargic and the cold wasn't helping. Knowing that Miss Tweedle-Dumb was at a conference I dialled Miss Tweedle-Dee's number, praying that for once she would pick-up. And she did. After a long conversation, playing out again the scenes from the night before I started to feel much better and through her natural power of persuasion, Miss Tweedle-Dee convinced me to go out Saturday night with some friends. So I did. And what a night I had. In fact the rest of the weekend was a success after the initial stumble. Saturday night I went to a local gig back home with some old friends who are getting married in the spring (I am doing their photography - Daunting I know!). But also at the gig was an unexpected face of Mr. DJ! Thankfully he was busy working the gig and band so didn't have much time to talk. He did however make the point of saying hello and it was almost, just almost, as if that ram-shackled night in the back of his tiny car didn't happen at all. Buying him a drink we looked at each other as if to acknowledge the fact that we both still remembered the night clearly. Turns out that Mr. DJ is single and I think I may have a certain future Bride and Groom trying to set us up. Whether it goes anywhere or not is another matter but quite frankly I only have a craving for Cheese.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 20 January 2014
Languishing Laughs
Heyy,
I hope that all is well in the world of you this week. I myself have had a slightly more upbeat and optimistic seven days since we last spoke. I have started packing, only two boxes I know but nevertheless it is a start and should be congratulated by a glass of wine in which I am sipping as we speak. This week in terms of the house I have visited my new abode yet again and look forward very much to moving in this weekend. Although I must admit the added stress and worry about money has got the better of me, and, knowing I wont be able to afford the large fees for moving in I have taken out a credit card. I am well aware of the implications that may arise from such a heavy responsibility but I plan to pay it all off within the first three months of moving in. Besides I have to - I have Kavos with Miss Chocolate to attend in the summer of 2014! Boy, Booze and Beaches! What more could a newly solitary women in her early-twenties ask for?!
This week has been better for a number of reasons. One of which is a new face! Mr. Rockclimber who I spoke of before Christmas and New Years if my memory doesn't fail me has been on the scene pretty much since Mr. Cheese and I went on our little break. Mr. Rockclimber however gained his name as he asked me on a date rock-climbing. I declined due to the fact I had only just found out about moving and subsequently though through no forward planning spent the weekend with Mr. Cheese. After New Years, he approached me and started small talk and now we have a date planned for Friday night - Just hours after I move in to Palais de A.Lou - A palace is much better than a Chateau! He did try to tempt me to go rock-climbing again, but I have no idea what I would wear so again aquested his request.
My other saving grace this week has got to be the bestie visiting! My little dumpling Miss Tweedle-Dee was ill over the weekend so was unable to join in with the ridiculousness however Miss Tweedle-Dumb was fit as a fiddle and in prime shape for a evening of giggles and drinks. Arriving at the station to meet her after a hard Saturday afternoon doing nothing but watching TV about current affairs and general crap Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I headed straight to the pub. After ordering food, failing several times as they seemed to be out of everything other than chocolate cake we sat down to have a nibble. Conversation almost immediately turned to the obvious - Mr. Cheese. Now since last week nothing much has changed in terms of updates, but with less than a week to go I am starting to feel apprehensive about our meet up with Mr. Cheese. And whilst I don't know for definite, I am sure that Miss South-Africa has made another appearance, especially after Mr. Cheese's vaguely coy plans for Sunday just gone. Nevertheless I tried my hardest not to speak of him, despite it taking up alot of conversation over the weekend. I think I know already what the answer is this weekend and should really prepare myself for the worst as I can't see this ever being resolved in a way I will be satisfied with.
After a bite to eat the cigarette lounge called to us and so Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I retired before getting the next round of drinks in. Talk now turned to the recent events in her own life and the high possibility of moving overseas to be with her boyfriend who just got a job in Austria. I am excited for her, my dearest Miss Tweedle-Dumb, although it terrifies me that I struggled when I was just up the motorway in Northampton with Mr. Workaholic when that started heading south so god only knows what she may feel like in a country she has never even been to. Whilst I wish her all the best I silently hope that I have many more fond memories with her here in the land in which we grew up. It wont be forever I know that, but its scary not having your mom-therapist-stylist-sister-joker-lover-dancer-drinker pal and agony aunt right by your side. What am I going to do on a night out when I need a poo and I have to have help out of my play-suit?! What am I going to do when a boy breaks my heart (again)?! Oh my dear Tweedle-Dumb.
As the weather turned gloomy and wet we returned inside, only to find solace in the dessert menu. After scouring the small section for a good twenty-minutes I got tired of waiting and hummed a well know tune from an old TV programme called Countdown where by contestants have to make the longest word out of a whole bunch of letters selected by none other than Carol Vorderman (not Voldermort) - One of Britain's sexiest telly-cougars! Just as I finished my vocal chord, Miss Tweedle-Dee looked at me in horror only to notice that without thinking it, we had sat next to a huge poster of none other than Carol Vorderman herself. Bursting into hysterics we laughed for a further quarter-hour until we settle on pancakes and waffles. Finishing our desserts, stuffed to our rib's we noticed that the room was slightly warmer. Why? Well it seemed that a nice bit of eye-candy had fallen onto the fruit-machines and was making us both hot under the collar. Instantly we started coming out with all sorts of outrageous and cringe-worthy chat-up lines to approach him with and although none of these were put into practise, they were still funny to laugh at how unbelievably pig-headed men can be. As the last orders were called we headed home and after lots of chuckles and snorts we fell into a deep sleep next to each other for the last time before moving into my new flat.
And so after a date dilemma with Mr. Rockclimber where by I was basically blown off for a simple nose bleed his mom had, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I had a morning of Sunday shopping and then came home to pack. We did one box. Between us. Ooops! But nevertheless I had a good week and weekend. I have a busy one ahead of me though. Tomorrow I am round to Daddy's for dinner; Wednesday is the cinema with the Tweedles and some friends; Thursday is packing and Friday is move day! Friday night I have a date with Mr. Rockclimber and Saturday I plan to unpack. Sunday however is the day I am not so much looking forward to as I have to return to my old place to host the showdown of the year. Cheese vs. Moi! Who will win ... Nobody knows! Although I am anticipating since we have both been winning with the whole open relationship thing for so long one of us is bound to loose and I have a funny feeling I should get my gloves on early. But you never know, life has a funny way of surprising me so we shall just have to wait and see what happens when I write this next week from my new home!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
I hope that all is well in the world of you this week. I myself have had a slightly more upbeat and optimistic seven days since we last spoke. I have started packing, only two boxes I know but nevertheless it is a start and should be congratulated by a glass of wine in which I am sipping as we speak. This week in terms of the house I have visited my new abode yet again and look forward very much to moving in this weekend. Although I must admit the added stress and worry about money has got the better of me, and, knowing I wont be able to afford the large fees for moving in I have taken out a credit card. I am well aware of the implications that may arise from such a heavy responsibility but I plan to pay it all off within the first three months of moving in. Besides I have to - I have Kavos with Miss Chocolate to attend in the summer of 2014! Boy, Booze and Beaches! What more could a newly solitary women in her early-twenties ask for?!
This week has been better for a number of reasons. One of which is a new face! Mr. Rockclimber who I spoke of before Christmas and New Years if my memory doesn't fail me has been on the scene pretty much since Mr. Cheese and I went on our little break. Mr. Rockclimber however gained his name as he asked me on a date rock-climbing. I declined due to the fact I had only just found out about moving and subsequently though through no forward planning spent the weekend with Mr. Cheese. After New Years, he approached me and started small talk and now we have a date planned for Friday night - Just hours after I move in to Palais de A.Lou - A palace is much better than a Chateau! He did try to tempt me to go rock-climbing again, but I have no idea what I would wear so again aquested his request.
My other saving grace this week has got to be the bestie visiting! My little dumpling Miss Tweedle-Dee was ill over the weekend so was unable to join in with the ridiculousness however Miss Tweedle-Dumb was fit as a fiddle and in prime shape for a evening of giggles and drinks. Arriving at the station to meet her after a hard Saturday afternoon doing nothing but watching TV about current affairs and general crap Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I headed straight to the pub. After ordering food, failing several times as they seemed to be out of everything other than chocolate cake we sat down to have a nibble. Conversation almost immediately turned to the obvious - Mr. Cheese. Now since last week nothing much has changed in terms of updates, but with less than a week to go I am starting to feel apprehensive about our meet up with Mr. Cheese. And whilst I don't know for definite, I am sure that Miss South-Africa has made another appearance, especially after Mr. Cheese's vaguely coy plans for Sunday just gone. Nevertheless I tried my hardest not to speak of him, despite it taking up alot of conversation over the weekend. I think I know already what the answer is this weekend and should really prepare myself for the worst as I can't see this ever being resolved in a way I will be satisfied with.
After a bite to eat the cigarette lounge called to us and so Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I retired before getting the next round of drinks in. Talk now turned to the recent events in her own life and the high possibility of moving overseas to be with her boyfriend who just got a job in Austria. I am excited for her, my dearest Miss Tweedle-Dumb, although it terrifies me that I struggled when I was just up the motorway in Northampton with Mr. Workaholic when that started heading south so god only knows what she may feel like in a country she has never even been to. Whilst I wish her all the best I silently hope that I have many more fond memories with her here in the land in which we grew up. It wont be forever I know that, but its scary not having your mom-therapist-stylist-sister-joker-lover-dancer-drinker pal and agony aunt right by your side. What am I going to do on a night out when I need a poo and I have to have help out of my play-suit?! What am I going to do when a boy breaks my heart (again)?! Oh my dear Tweedle-Dumb.
As the weather turned gloomy and wet we returned inside, only to find solace in the dessert menu. After scouring the small section for a good twenty-minutes I got tired of waiting and hummed a well know tune from an old TV programme called Countdown where by contestants have to make the longest word out of a whole bunch of letters selected by none other than Carol Vorderman (not Voldermort) - One of Britain's sexiest telly-cougars! Just as I finished my vocal chord, Miss Tweedle-Dee looked at me in horror only to notice that without thinking it, we had sat next to a huge poster of none other than Carol Vorderman herself. Bursting into hysterics we laughed for a further quarter-hour until we settle on pancakes and waffles. Finishing our desserts, stuffed to our rib's we noticed that the room was slightly warmer. Why? Well it seemed that a nice bit of eye-candy had fallen onto the fruit-machines and was making us both hot under the collar. Instantly we started coming out with all sorts of outrageous and cringe-worthy chat-up lines to approach him with and although none of these were put into practise, they were still funny to laugh at how unbelievably pig-headed men can be. As the last orders were called we headed home and after lots of chuckles and snorts we fell into a deep sleep next to each other for the last time before moving into my new flat.
And so after a date dilemma with Mr. Rockclimber where by I was basically blown off for a simple nose bleed his mom had, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I had a morning of Sunday shopping and then came home to pack. We did one box. Between us. Ooops! But nevertheless I had a good week and weekend. I have a busy one ahead of me though. Tomorrow I am round to Daddy's for dinner; Wednesday is the cinema with the Tweedles and some friends; Thursday is packing and Friday is move day! Friday night I have a date with Mr. Rockclimber and Saturday I plan to unpack. Sunday however is the day I am not so much looking forward to as I have to return to my old place to host the showdown of the year. Cheese vs. Moi! Who will win ... Nobody knows! Although I am anticipating since we have both been winning with the whole open relationship thing for so long one of us is bound to loose and I have a funny feeling I should get my gloves on early. But you never know, life has a funny way of surprising me so we shall just have to wait and see what happens when I write this next week from my new home!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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