Dinner With A Ghost

Hello!

Driving down a road that looked familiar, I soon realised it was the old route I used to take to my High School. I was in a small Ford KA and was with my besties, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. But they weren't driving. It was Mr. Ginge. Our relationship was mainly featured in post 'The Grass Might Not Always Be Greener On The Other Side' but in basic terms was my first boyfriend. Yes, Mr. Warehouse knew of our meet up and I think a negotiating factor was the fact that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were accompanying me. That and the fact that I was a teenager when we were last dating. But I was not a emo-teen anymore. I was a grown women, and Mr. Ginge was a grown man. Things had changed a lot since we last saw each other and now we were en route to my old High School for Dinner (Don't ask). Pulling into the driveway of the School I recalled some of my fondest memories before things got complicated and I became an adult. It was nostalgic to say the least. 

Seating for dinner the room was beautifully decorated with red walls and ornate, brocade-style gold fixtures. It was very grandeur and can only imagine it would have cost a small fortune to eat their, not just for myself and my ex-boyfriend but also for him to cater to my best friends was definitely impressive. Pulling out my chair I had some raised eyebrow looks from The Tweedles as if to warn me on what I was getting myself into. Truth be told though Mr. Ginge and I had met briefly before and we had swapped numbers, chatting for a few weeks before ending up eating dinner in a busy restaurant in my home town. This was something I had not told my boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse, for fear of him suspecting more than there was. I am a flirtatious person and Mr. Warehouse knows (Or at least I would like to think that he does) that I know where the line is and I do not cross it under any circumstances. Nevertheless here I was, across the table from my ex-boyfriend and with my best friends sitting side-by-side on the right hand side if me we continued our discussions and made up for lost time. 

Becoming more wibbily on the flowing red wine encompassed a full bodied flavour including cherries and strawberries, I could tell that Mr. Ginge was enjoying my company. Forgetting my friends, I continued to relive old memories with my ex-boyfriend including how we met. I suppose rather conventionally we were introduced to each other though Sixth Form. Childhood sweethearts you could call it maybe. 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, with fiery red hair and a smile to loose yourself in, 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. Look it was like 2008 OK everyonene was still living in the days of MSN Messanger. 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 every single, scrawled letter. Smiling, acting coy we flirted for a week or two both inside and outside of the school gates. Looking back I can see that his boyish pokes, jokes and pushing was just a bad attempt at flirting and an excuse from him to touch me. Men, eh? But on the eve of my 17th birthday we began chatting over 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 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 to even realise he had asked me to be his girlfriend. Cocky in my teenage arrogance 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 again. Less than 12 hours later were standing on opposite ends of the court-yard garden at Sixth Form avoiding each other and discussing what to do with our friends. Finally, our friends forced us into a quieter area together and then scurried round the corner but within earshot so as 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 'hooked-up' couple. It was like I had just fallen into Hollywood and Mr. Ginge and I were the hottest new couple. Within a few days my world would be turned upside down forever to change me and take away my innocence and naivety, all of which Mr. Ginge stuck by me. I think its safe to say that there were more lows than highs 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 when the days were darker than death. 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. 

So as he got up from the table and walked round to beside me I thought that he may be going to the toilets. A moment passed as I wondered if the dining area was this grand, how grand would the restrooms be?! Snapping out of it I realised everyone in the restaurant was silent. Mr. Ginge was on the floor. On one knee. With an open black box. Suddenly the 'vino' disappeared and was in a very sobbering situation. Mr. Ginge was proposing to me. 
"Will you be my wife?" Mr. Ginge asked, batted breath from everyone including myself. A long silence ensued. I looked around. Some faces were smiling, some faces looked concerned that moments had passed and I had yet to give an answer. This is not what I planned when I got ready this evening, nor when I was messaging Mr. Ginge a few weeks beforehand.  

I looked at Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, urgent for an answer to a question I was not anticipating answering so soon, let alone from someone I was not even dating.
"Yes" I replied, shocked to even hear it myself. Cheers and an applause erupted and it felt as if I had just accepted and honorary title. Seating for the rest of the meal it flew by in a haze of congratulatory Champagne and shock. Heading to my room that evening above the restaurant, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb accompanied me and stayed the night in my bed whilst I tried in vain to get some sleep before returning to the reality of the situation I now found myself in. 

Many hours past and as I felt dawn approaching I knew it was time to go. I had to leave and get our before Mr. Ginge awoke. Hurrying the girls, hushed and silent as possible so as not to wake the other guests. As I finished getting dressed and packing my bag Mr. Ginge suddenly appeared in the room. Solemn in his change of mood, Mr. Ginge offered to take us to where we needed to go. I think he had realised, or been told, that our marriage was not possible. I was in love with Mr. Warehouse. He was my boyfriend, not Mr. Ginge. I felt awful and as I thought about having to tell Mr. Warehouse of my evening I felt hot waves of sickness wash over me once more. Whilst Mr. Ginge was my first love and a part of my heart will always belong with him, Mr. Warehouse was the person I wanted to marry and he was the one my future now lay with. 

The shock had still not dispersed as Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I got into Mr. Ginge's car again. I was quiet for the majority of the journey, my Tweedles doing most of the conversing with my Ex so as not to make it more awkward than it already was. It was dark. I remember passing some tavern's and old public houses, golden and alight inside with the warmth of good company and hot toddies. The darkness only made what I had done worse. I had betrayed not only my boyfriend, patiently waiting for me at home, anxious of my company I was keeping. I had also disappointed my best friends, only disclosing the full extent of my growing fantasy with my childhood-sweetheart after the out-of-the-blue proposal. As we carried on along the road I became more and more ingrained in my thoughts and suddenly the realisation about the next few hours dealing with the consequences of giving my hand in marriage to another man kicked in like a punch to the face.

It was then that I woke. Clammy and heart racing I was glad it was Mr. Warehouse I was waking up next too. Shuddering at the strange dream I had just encountered and promising myself I would later look it up in my extensive collection of dream books and sleep-interpretation encyclopedias, I snuggled into Mr. Warehouse's back. When my boyfriend finally rolled over and I kissed him gently all in the knowledge that should the moment or time ever arise, I knew what the answer would be. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

To Date Or Not To Date?

Hello,
 
So no word from Mr. Workaholic this week, or his mother for that fact, which in some respects I'm glad of. I have enough drama and excitement in my life for them to cramp my style. But it did get me thinking about how it would be nice to have a new Mister about the place. After spending the weekend with family and Saturday afternoon discussing relationships with my beloved Grandmother I finally realised it time to get out there. And so commences my first look into dating since said train crash with Mr. Workaholic.

Its a scary place the dating scene, especially for an inexperienced little mite like me. You see other that 'The one that got away' that is Mr. Ginge and the notorious Mr. Workaholic, there hasn't really been anyone else. Apart from a few flings and silly teen relationships - Oh, and of course Mr. Coffee, there hasn't been anyone else. And besides where do you even meet people nower days when your twenty-one? I mean its not like I ever go out any more since Miss Chocolate has just moved into her new house so is pretty much broke and Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb have turned into thirty-year-old's; In fact I know even thirty-year-old's that go out more than they do. Don't get me wrong I love them to bits and would do anything for them, but they need to realise that they are still young and there is more to life than nights-in and slogging your guts out at work!

The majority of people meet each other through friends, in which I don't have very many close ones with tonnes of single male bachelor's or they meet at university, in which I chose not to go to as I wanted to build and create a life with Mr. Workaholic - And we all know where that ended up! It seems that the only place people my age meet is whilst intoxicated or under-the-influence in a nightclub at 3am when all other hopefuls have eloped and the only way to end the night would be to make a mistake by waking up next to someone in the morning you barely remember their face, let alone the name! The way it comes across is that meeting someone in a club on a night out is a bit like playing musical chairs - You have to find the best chair before your left with the one that has the dodgy leg and squeaks, and no-body wants that chair!
 
After dabbling around with the Channel 4 show 'First Dates' for the past couple of week's and not manifesting a single whiff of interest I have decided to take things into my own hands. Its not like I expected a line outside my door to date me or anything, but just someone remotely interested in me. Whilst I may really like lemons and have an admiration for all things dairy, I am quirky and interesting. I'm not one of these girls that is moody and uninterested in anything and everything. I love discovering and enjoying life. I love food and unlike some girls I'm not scared to feast on a steak or two. Yeah I'm a little lumpy in places but hey, isn't everyone? Isn't that what makes us different? If we were back in caveman days I would have been worshipped for my healthy appetite, large hips and vibrant personality. It would be me that survives, not someone with a waist smaller than a pencil and a head filled with nothing but hot air. But somehow its pencils a la hot air that attract all the men? I know that I would prefer to be with someone that was ugly but had a bit of pizazz about them that someone who looked like they had just stepped off stage from a Chippendale's show - Not that a Chippendale is my idea of a perfect man. In fact it couldn't be further from the truth.
 
I enjoy a man who is manly with a dash of femininity. Someone who takes care of themselves, but not too much. I also like a nice, jumper-wearing, guy who can make me laugh and that gets along with my friends and family. They're the people he will need to impress the most. I enjoy running my fingers through hair whilst in the moment if you follow the drift and I like other bodily hair, but I don't want to date chewbacca. I find little tufts of hair tucked away under the arms and on the chest cute and sweet. I just want a nice man to bring home to my family and friends, that isn't going to hurt me in the way that everyone has - With the exception of Mr. Ginge. I don't think that's too much to ask for? Well that and my four point check-list is also preferable ... Hair, Eyes, Shoes and Teeth.

Mind you, maybe the fact that most people my age aren't on dating websites or in the national papers appealing for dates should tells me that its not normal to get hung up on finding someone so young. I just feel that maybe time is ticking. I wasted so much time on Mr. Workaholic building our dreams and future that when it all collapsed I had nothing left. everything was burnt and that makes me want to be fire retardant for the rest of my life, but I cant help it, I just fall in love so easily. I'm not ready at the age of twenty-one to settle down and have the kids and the dog and the house and the nine-to-five yet. I still want to live my life. I have so much to see and do. I want to go on a crazy holiday to a party island with all my friends and drink so much we have to be carted home by the locals. I want to travel and see some of the world. I want to have some more nights that I think to myself 'Oh god, did I really do that?'

And so round and round I go with the quarterly-life crisis that is - To date or not to date? That is the question? I think I am ready, but am I really? I have a lot going on at the moment and a corker of a summer just around the corner - Would I really want to share that with anyone? I doubts it. Besides Ive got to move out soon. I have seen a few places and have a couple lined up to go and see some more but yes, it seems that it wont be long before I shall be broadcasting from a new location. Where is another matter though ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx