Everybody Has A Time ...

Evening All, 

Someone once told me when I was much younger that the phone seldom brings good news when past nine at night. And oh how right they are. 

After a long week at work I was ready to settle down with Mr. Warehouse, chill out with a drink or two over dinner and discuss our busy weekend to come. What with my Daddies big 5-0 party on Saturday evening I was looking forward to getting glammed up and seeing some familiar faces again. Getting my nails done and having a hair-cut I was excited to spend my weekend with loved ones. But as I snuggled into my boyfriends chest, man-boob and all, I could hear my phone vibrating on the side. Flicking on the light, my ringtone kicked in for another repetition I raced to the kitchen to pick it up. It was my Dad. I answered thinking it was something about the party. It wasn't. As I walked back to my bedroom of my small, dark flat I perched myself on the edge of the bed. Feeling hot all of a sudden and with prickles beginning in my eyes I listened carefully to what I was being told. 

My grandfather has not been well for a long time. Ever since I was small I can remember him bribing me or my Brother to get him tit-bits from the kitchen or fetch him something from around the bungalow he shared with my Grandmother. I never remember him being the active type to walk around the garden let alone run after his grandchildren. But as I got older he seemed to take more of a back burner in my life-story, forever there but always playing the part of a extra rather than a starring role. I still loved him, but I suppose a older child, and being the only girl in the family, I don't think he really knew what to do with me. Becoming a teenager I was always rebelling and whilst he was there to stick his ore in a few times I knew that the majority of the time he probably knew best. After retiring and not keeping as active as he was working as a refuse collector for the local council back home he grew larger than he ever had. A mixture of nothing to do and a constantly well stocked cupboard made his weight balloon and over the next few years his weight would fluctuate between looking like a Christmas Turkey and looking like a Turkey whom had got a lucky escape from the December oven. Always being clinically termed "morbidly obese" it never seemed to bother him and I suppose as his family it never really bothered us. Until that was he reached a point of no return. 

With the lack of exercise my Grandfather's legs started to become sore. in time they became infected and had to be dressed and redressed several times a day. At one point us as a family were left wondering that if the infection got any worse that it may lead to amputation. Whilst on crutches the Doctors still encouraged my Granddad to walk, even if it was to the kitchen or to the top of my grandparents highly maintained garden. But he failed to listen. On the odd occasion he could be found in the kitchen standing up or sitting on a stool peeling vegetables for dinner or preparing something yummy for lunch, but more often than not he would be in front of the Telly or on the computer. After progressively getting worse over the next few years he was in and out of hospital with heart problems and even referred to the UK's leading heart hospital in Harefield, just outside of London. Worried we all might loose him I made sure I put in the effort to see him and the family when I could. After a triple heart bypass surgery to fix the dodgy ticker I thought that this would be it and he would not only be back to his old self but be more conscience about what he puts in his mouth and how much more moving he should be doing. But alas, as yet again this fell on deaf ears. 

Last year Granddad had a fall as he was getting in and out the shower. Breaking his leg clean, his Femur was too broken to stand on and so more crutches and a brace was used. Taking its toll on Grandpop's heart he was rushed into hospital again after being allowed home, but after dying on the operating table and having lost more than six-pints of blood, we were lucky as a family to still have him alive. You could say he was a fighter, but if you could fight off death, you could fight off the fat attacking your organs. But even after all of that there was no change in his spirit and after much consideration he was put into a local care home so that the adequate care could be given. And there he has stayed for the past few months.

I try to visit as much as I can and do when I have time but with life as busy as it usually is you could sometimes go weeks forgetting to even call or text. With the lack of "get-up-and-go" Granddad became sneaky, asking family members to smuggle in sweet treats like nuts, seeds, berries and crisps. When he approached me I stood my ground and whilst it was one of the hardest things to do I knew I was doing him good. But ever since that moment My Granddad whom I love and care for dearly has been stand off-ish and is quite frankly rude in some circumstance, leading me several times to put him firmly in his place. The family agreed that for too long we have been soft and that now, more than ever, we needed to take a tough love approach to Granddad and his behaviour. That was until he was rushed into hospital on Friday evening suffering from too much fluid in his lungs and with his heart not strong enough to pump it out I listened intently to what my father told me next. 

"Your Grandfather is going to die. It could be weeks, it could be months, it may even be years - But he is dying" My Dad said out loud. My heart nearly stopped. As I croaked out past the growing frog in my throat I took in and accepted fully what I had already known for months, if not years. "He is dying" I thought. "He is actually, really dying and there is nothing I can do to stop this?!" Hanging up the phone I sat bewildered for a moment. Somehow I had always known this would be the result of over eating and under moving but to finally hear it from the source of a Doctor, passed through the ears of a family to the granddaughter was hard to take in. I am only twenty-three, soon to be twenty-four and never have I ever experienced a death this close. Rising from the bed I went to make a cup of tea, sweet with lots of sugar, a proper little, china tea-cup and all. Coming back to bed I climbed in next to Mr. Warehouse and thought about what was next. With the words solidifying in my head I was left with more questions than answers. "Do we just wait? Wait until another nightly call comes along to inform us that we are no longer with Granddad?" I wondered. 

"Is this really the next chapter in my life? The next thing to go wrong?" mixed round my head with questions about why Mr. Warehouse was here - Was he next in what was seeming to be a long list of boyfriends that only turned up to help me through a difficult point in my life. Mr. Ginge was there when my parents divorced and when I was chucked out by my hateful mother. Mr. Workaholic was there throughout the years of torment form my mother and the separation from my baby brother. Mr. Coffee, Mr. Sick and Mr. Woof were their to fill the gaping hole that Mr. Workaholic had left when we separated. Mr. Cheese was their when I moved into my first ever flat and when I changed careers from stressful credit control to where I am today. Is this the tale of Mr. Warehouse? I hope not! I was starting to really like this one?! The good egg I thought. Maybe "The One"?  I don't want to loose him, but at the same time I have some slight issues with relying on people to be there for me. What with my Grandfather being in hospital all I wanted to do was be enveloped by my boyfriends and his protecting arms, telling me that fairy-tales of how it would be all OK. Equally though I wanted to push him as far away as the moon favouring myself and my own company in comparison to leaning emotionally on yet another boy who would break my heart. 

"Why do people have to get old?!" I sobbed into my cooling tea-cup, feeling very much like a child whom had just found their goldfish belly up. "Why does this have to happen now?" I sniffled for now I am in the knowledge that my Grandpop's will never see me get married. He will never hold his great grandchildren in his arms. He will never come round and throw himself into my sofa in a house I have just bought. No, he will never see those things. Not only am I feeling angry and bitter that he has let this happen to himself, selfishly not only letting our family down but more disappointingly, letting himself down. We have always been a big family and with weight being a constant issue for us all, I think it is safe to say that this has given us a gentle nudge to do something about it before it gets to the stage whereby we are all too old and frail to stop it from killing us. 

After speaking to Mr. Warehouse and Miss Tweedle-Dumb well into the small hours of Saturday morning I soon feel asleep holding my tea-cup, now empty. Upon waking everything seemed normal, until Mr. Warehouse mentioned the night before and suddenly it all came flooding horrendously back to me. Gathering myself together, Mr. Warehouse and I packed for our weekend away back home in Luton and with plans to see my Granddad on Sunday I was hoping for some fun to brighten my mood. And Saturday night certainly did not disappoint! Squaddies dressed in offencive camp outfits, high-heeled tumbles and even the odd boogie on the dance-floor it was a definite winner in terms of pick-me-up's. With all the old faces from my childhood I found myself getting wasted with the best of them, and even had a cheeky "Special Cigarette" with my Dad's best friend from Somerset. 

But as I write to you now, eyes heavy with the call of my bed, I am only thinking of one person. Whether it be in two weeks or in two months, I can almost guarantee that by the time Christmas arrives, there will be one less Santa in my world. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

I'm Getting Old

Good Evening,

So today I went to a funeral. It was not someone I knew terribly well but it was someone I had shared several happy memories with. But as I sat there, dry eyed and holding on tightly to Miss Tweedle-Dumb's hand tightly watching everyone around me fall to pieces as we all watched a silent and still coffin, I felt myself grow a little older. Gone are the days now of drinking in the park and mucking around at school. Today I think I faced the fact that whilst I am still young, I am not getting any younger. 

Growing up is tough, but I think one of the toughest things is seeing those around you slowly disappear. I once asked my Nana as a young child what the worst part of getting older is and she explained simply that as we grow older, the more often we have to go into the wardrobe and reach out for that Little Black Dress, each time getting quicker and quicker in concession. 

You see as we all progress in the journey of life we realise that faces change, as do people and their personalities. Some change for the better and some not so much. You yourself as you get older and maybe wiser will change too. And again, some change for the better and some not so much. People will come and go from life as changing as the seasons. Some of the characters you will meet along the road may break your heart and will be the ones that got away. I know Mr. Workaholic is for me. But then I look at the situation I found myself in back in Northamptonshire when I was in my happy little blissful bubble with him. I was twenty and more than happy to settle down with an itchy finger and an empty spare room I needed to fill. Looking back now, albeit through rose tinted glasses, I now know it was not where my life was designed to go and if given a second chance again to give it another shot, I am almost certain now I would decline. Since Mr. Workaholic I have had many a dating disaster including Mr. Carrots, Mr. Coffee and Mr. Sick - Although I am hardly sure you can call that one a date?! Not all of them were awful though. For example I have met wonderful people like Mr. Cheese, Mr. Coffee and even a stint with a couple of lustful lovers over Tinder. But none of them being that all-illusive 'One'.

You will have noticed that Mr. Warehouse has been excluded from the above. Now this does not mean we are getting married (Step away from the facinator!) but nor does it mean that he is another frog in my quest for a Prince Charming. It merely means that for the first time in a while I am beginning to accept that this may be 'it' - Whatever 'it' is?! And after only six-months or so into our relationship it's hard to say if Mr. Warehouse is my one and only. When you have had something so perfectly perfect before it is hard not to compare your feelings this time around to that of how you felt last time you were truly, madly,deeply in love. But I know now that it wasn't perfect as I once thought.

In the long run I honestly don't think Mr. Workaholic and I would have ever worked out. We were not wholly compatible - But then again who is? He never ate vegetables and all that graced his plate was beige this and beige that. Living on chicken dinosaurs and Carbonara flushed down with Redbull was not a healthy or sustainable diet. How was I meant to raise children around a father who ate about as much greens as a breeze block? And whilst we had a laugh and fooled around a lot with minimal arguing, there were some things in life that are just not meant to be. I am in a much better place right now than I ever was with Mr. Workaholic. I am somewhere whereby I don't have to rely on someone else or their income. I depend on me and only me. I pay my own rent, my own bills (Lets not talk about British Gas!) and afford my own things. On the other hand, Mr. Cheese in his own right was wonderfully charming, good looking and very affluent with friends and family in all the right places, but lacked basic skills in the bedroom as well as the "fun and frivolous" department. I could never really be my true self around him, only a segment of me. I knew both at the time and now that if I had continued any longer I would have definitely been settling for something, never to be completely satisfied. 

Whilst the intellectual conversation surrounding politics, literature and other current affairs was there with Mr. Workaholic and Mr. Cheese I was lacking in other areas and although I am not stating that for a second Mr. Warehouse tick's every box, he does try and that is worth more than anything I could ever ask for. Today and the past week or so has really opened my eyes to the world a little and in a way I have come to the conclusion that one day it will be my funeral, and someone will be standing up there on the pew reading out my life story. I want to know that I will have lived life to the fullest and trying not to regret or dwell on what could have been, only looking forward in anticipation for what is to come. And so I end this weeks blog post in a somewhat thoughtful and reflective mood, leaving to ponder the possibilities that tomorrow will bring. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Shitty Stick!

Afternoon All, 

So after last weeks slight rant over religion and the tales of God and his holy tales of Easter, this week has been slightly more back to norm. Settling fully back into work and life after returning from Las Vegas and the Easter break I decided to get back in contact with some old Pals from my crazy days as a student in college. 

Dropping a few texts, a couple of WhatsApp messages and a few short hours later I was not only on time, but early to meet my dear friend Miss Chocolate. As I sipped on a Martini Espresso topped with some sort of creamy loveliness I noted all my office and life stresses melting away, thinking about how much my friend had changed in the months that we had not spoken. 

Flicking through a magazine, noting all the different trends for Spring/Summer'15 and wondering where I shall be holidaying this year I was tapped on the shoulder by a familiar face, that of Miss Chocolate's. Miss Tatt's was meant to be joining us but I think had to work late so send her best wishes and recommended the menu. As we were seated for our table at TGI Friday's we both couldn't contain our excitement, twittering on about life as we both knew it and of all the things that had happened over the past year or so. First of all there was the explanation about how fabulous Vegas was and secondly was the long, interesting and the somewhat repeated tale of my latest boyfriend, Mr. Warehouse. 

You see it's not that I don't like telling people how Mr. Warehouse and I met, I do (Besides "met at work" sounds a lot better than "met on Tinder") its just sometimes I wonder, and I am sure that Miss Chocolate and the Tweedles will vouch for me when I say this - I have never really been single. Not properly anyhow. All I seem to do is skip from one relationship to another. I mean it went from being in school where I had nobody interested in dating me to suddenly not being able to shake them off. It all started with the lovely and sweet Mr. Ginge in Sixth Form. Within a year, then along came along the heartbreakingly perfect Mr. Workaholic. After a couple of months it was the intermediate episode with Mr. Coffee. Six-months later, along came the tragically lost Mr. Cheese and exactly forty-eight hours after ending things with Mr. Cheese I finally came up to speed with the wonderfully simple Mr. Warehouse. Yes, I can safely say I don't think I have been single for more than a few months. What can I say, beating them off with a shitty stick! I think I am very bi-polar in my relationships with men and how I acted at school has pretty much replicated itself in life as a fully fledged adult, falling in love easily and getting my heart broken even easier. 

But as I sat talking away to Miss Chocolate about my new-ish addition to my life as a twenty-something I watched as she tried to twist the story making smiles and asking questions about whether he is the one or not? Babies? Or not? Four-bed detached house in Surrey somewhere with white picket fencing, a red Volvo and a Labrador called Fifi? Or not? this round of question and answer always is the same from Miss Chocolate, maybe because she knows how important it is, or maybe because she has not had a one-hundred-percent definitive answer from me since 2010 when she asked me the same interview-esk questions about Mr. Workaholic. My reaction however is always the same since then too. I have never been true to myself in saying that this probably wont work out. There is always a maybe or a hopefully. Never a certified "Yes". 

I think that Miss Chocolate is much like me, in anticipation for the day again where we will both have that conversation and once more I will be safe in the knowledge that there is a good chance my current boyfriend is going to be my husband. Maybe my search stops with Mr. Warehouse, or maybe it carries on and he becomes another Mister in a long parade of failed relationships. Who knows?

As our conversation progressed we chatted about work, friends, family, college days and future crazy nights out to come. And as I boarded the night bus back home I hoped that the night out we had planned for a few weeks time would come about as I was, and still am in a severe need for a good old messy night out with some banging banter, popping tunes and a dance-floor that has been freshly polished. Oh and a pole - Always need a pole!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Look Back In Time

Hello Again, 

Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three-hundred and sixty-five days. However you phrase it it has been a year, and what a year it has been! Not quite as dramatic and emotional as last year but nevertheless an eye-opener and a year to remember in my life as being the year of hope. Hope for a better life beyond where I am now and hope for one day finally getting over and coming to terms with Mr. Workaholic and the scars he has left me with. 

This year I have catapulted myself back onto the dating scene and created romances with some unlikely fellows from my past and a few fresh faces too. Mr. Coffee whilst we didn't work out, we still talk and will remain friends forever. Mr. Carrots I have since not spoken to but feel that this is best since the feelings received were stronger than being emitted. Mr. Accent I have not encountered since my TV appearance and don't plan on meeting up but you never know, could be a late grower - Like mould! And to all those others met under the cover of darkness in a stuffy club with music thumping and strobe lights blinking across the revellers, I bid you a fair well for this year and look forward to seeing you all next as my plans for being single still exist. And I know your all wondering about that little charmer, Mr. Cheese. Well I haven't missed him out. As it approaches the six-month mark in the early New Year, I have decided to cool it off for a bit. I have alot of stuff I need to sort out in my own life and having the constant 'will-we-wont-we' battle inside my head is stating to wear on me. I am starting off the New Year by having to move yet again and the stresses of that are already starting to pile up, not to mention not knowing when or whether my job will go permanent and on top of all that there is a storm coming in the way of a family argument with a magnitude to match a tornado. I am confused at when I stand in this whole thing and what we are, both going forward into the New Year but also beyond that. I still don't know how I feel about being solely someone elses and at the same time I know it would feel good too. Both Mr. Cheese and I have our own things to worry about in January so I'm hoping he will use this opportunity to reflect on the past few months and decide what he really wants. They always say that distance makes the heart grow fonder!

Also this year I have created some unforgettable memories with friends. From Miss Chocolate and I having a frolicking Friday night out in Frodsham earlier in the year to the night-out disaster that ended with Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I in bed by 10-O'clock after drinking too much. All memories that will stick with me and keep me chuckling well into 2014. One thing I have learnt however is the sad story of how Miss Tweedle-Dumb, despite our antics is possibly moving to Europe to start a new life with her boyfriend whom recently was offered a job in Austria. Now don't grab your hankies (Or voo-voo-saila's) just yet as nothing has been confirmed and are pipe-dreams at the moment but I suspect that if all goes well, or not so, my fabulous Miss Tweedle-Dumb will be jetting off to start a life of Strudel and Bratwurst before we know it. But don't you all worry I will make sure she gets a send off like you have never seen before. As for Miss Tweedle-Dee, I'm hoping that regardless of our clashing opinions and different tastes that she and I will become closer as friends and learn to love each others annoying little traits. Miss Chocolate and I have a year of debauchery ahead of us in the form of more weekends away together, hopefully a week getting off our tits in a party island where the whether is hot and the booze is flowing, not to mention a steady flow of men to get our fangs into! 

And so I end this year as I did this time last year, with a man I am at a cross-roads with and feeling somewhat fulfilled in the year I have endured. I am proud to say that I have yet again survived a year of Trials and Tribulations of a Twenty-Something! 

I hope you all have a happy New Year and keep safe. I'll see you next year!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

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

We Lost the Sheep ...

Good evening,
 
And what a good evening it is. Nearly a fortnight of beautiful weather here in the UK and hopefully it stays like that. I love how even though I love being British, somehow talking about the weather make me feel much more worthy of such a title. Over the weekend it got up to over thirty-degrees which is hotter than it was on holiday in Majorca. Anyway, enough about the weather, more about my week!
 
As with most week's I slogged it out at work just so I could make it to the weekend. And what a weekend it was. Reminded me of the good old days when your still paying for your drunken mistakes and dodgy dancing come Tuesday - Of which 'yes' I am still recovering. Now it was just meant to be some casual drinks round Miss Tweedle-Dee's house to celebrate her father's birthday but before we knew what had hit us gone was the relaxing cider on the patio sofa's and there we were on the lawn's doing shots of vodka. How on earth I was able to drink that stuff neat when I was fourteen in the park with the younger Tweedle's beats me. Its almost like drinking bleach, even when it is the premium brands. As the night progressed and the sun began to go to bed the night really started to come alive. Laughing and sharing stories began and before we knew it we had all booked a cab into the local town to hit up some pubs and clubs. As the taxi arrived outside the pub Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I hopped out followed by the girlfriends of Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers. A proper girls night out. Heading straight to the bar we all got some drinks in and started to dance with me acting as main cock-blocker of the night I knew it was going to be good fun.
 
After a couple of songs and once our bottles were empty we headed to the next bar along the High Street and again, up to the bar we went. Only as we walked in I made eye contact with Mr. Coffee's brother! Bit awkward given the last time we spoke he had just found out that Mr. Coffee and I had christened his bed for him. Not thinking any more of it I hit the dance floor with the girls whilst the Tweedle's grabbed some drinks. Sweating like a fat kid in a cake shop I knew I needed to use the little girls room and so made my way through the crowds to the bathrooms. A few minute later Miss Tweedle-Dee walks in and with a grin on her face says I have to come with her. Panicking that maybe she had found Mr. Coffee and was hoping I was going to have it out with him on the dance floor I obliged. She seemed happy though. Maybe it wasn't so bad. But as she lead me by the hand we came to the warm, muggy air outside the front of the pub. It was only now that I saw the two skinny ladies perched onto a wall, holding onto each other as they tried not to fall into the flower beds behind the wall. They had been chucked out and as a result Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dumb and I were also out. Sighing we put our heads together to see what we would do next, but before we even had a chance to think properly we were told by the paralytic-drunkards that we should continue our night of mayhem. And so we headed back to the first pub we went into carry-on with the night.
 
A few hours in and I fancied some air and a cigarette so went outside. I could still see the rest of them, partying away without a care in the world. Even Miss Tweedle-Dee seemed to be enjoying herself, the one person who disagreed with our impromptu night on the tiles. Moments later I was joined by Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb who also sparked up. I mentioned that someone should go back to the girlfriends and keep an eye on them, but we could see them from where we were sitting outside so it would be fine for the time being. That was until I went back in to find them. They were no-where to be found. The bar, toilets, smoking area, even the dance floor was free from their presence. Worried I went back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb to see if they were there. The girls weren't there. Worried the Tweedles and I split up doing a wrecky one last time but still nothing. We had all there identification and money as well as their mobiles so they cant have gone far. Eventually after an hour of looking round the town we decided to head home and tell Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers that we had lost their beloved girlfriends. Thankfully though by the time we reached Miss Tweedle-Dee's house the girlfriend's had been found to have made their own ways home. Realising it was too late to get a train home, Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me her bedroom floor, and whilst cramped it was gratefully appreciated more than an three-hour wait on a cold bench at the station waiting for a train that may never come.

Also this week, after searching for both an abode and affection, I seemed to have stumbled across both. Wait around for ages and then two come along at the same time, eh? Now I know your dying to know about the 'Mr.' but its super earlier days so I shall not disclose anything yet. In terms of my new bachelor pad, I sent off my application forms and paperwork today and so should hear back pretty soon as to when I can move in, hopefully before the month is out.

It is a gorgeous, old Victorian property that is huge. It used to be an old boarding house for kids from the local towns and villages attending school in the town centre of Bedford so has buckets of character and maybe even a sneaky ghost or two? My flat is on the top floor and has a slanted roof, big sash windows that look out onto the back of the property, and enough room to park a plane. My own little home sweet home. I am so excited to move in I struggle sometimes to stay in one place at a time without buzzing about the place. I cant explain it. The feeling that I get when I know something is forthcoming as big as this just fills me with joy. I can tell I am going to be very happy there! I can finally do what I like, when I like and how I like it because I wont have to answer to anyone. I can eat chocolate and crisps for dinner. I can roll out of bed when I want to on a Sunday. Hell, I can even drink milk from the carton again and run around naked - Although I wouldn't want to make the neighbours sick, so maybe I shall keep my clothes on.
 
So fingers crossed that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb will come visit me in my new home, maybe then we can have a crazy night out on the town ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Lights, Camera, Action!

Hello All,
 
Bloggers Note: This post has been changed as per Wednesday 15th May 2013 as a result of some advice given to me regarding
                           subject matter. Don't worry I am sure I will update your more at a later date :) - - - Love A.Lou xx

After an explosive edition last week with views of Trials and Tribulations (of a 20-Something) rocketing to over a thousand last week I would again like to say a big thank-you and that it is very uplifting to come home from a hard days work to see that people still care, so thanks guys!
 
Now, where do I begin on the week I have just had? It started normally, and included an evening sifting through my e-mails deciphering crap from keep. I came across an e-mail from a website looking for people to join in with a new show. After pondering on it for a few days and a deep conversation with Mom I decided to just apply. Attaching some photos and clicking send I never thought it would go very far. Thursday evening after going swimming with Miss Chocolate and as we were about to go into my local for something to eat, I get a call. I answer. Its the production company asking me some questions regarding my application. Sitting in the car while it poured with rain outside I answered honestly and truthfully to the questions asked of my life in general. Ten minutes later, the young female voice asked if I was free Saturday afternoon to come down to London for a casting. And so a plan was set in place that I would go to the city for a casting that following weekend. Munching down on dinner Miss Chocolate and I giggle and chatted about what it would be like and weather anything would every come of it at all.
 
Saturday rolled around as soon as anything and as I started to prepare for my journey I had a call from Miss Tweedle-Dee, stating that she was going with me and to meet her at the station. Once I was ready I blagged a lift with a concerned father to the train station and waiting in the car until the train came, explaining to my Dad that everything would be OK and I would keep safe and all the rest of reassuring you have to do when your off to the Capital. Stepping out into the cold and wet from the car was not pleasant and I soon realised that the hours I had spent on my hair, prettying it, was a waste of time. Meeting up with Miss Tweedle-Dee we headed to the big lights of London and headed straight to the infamous Oxford Street to purchase some bargain buys before hopping on the tube again. Coming out of London's St. Pancreas/Kings Cross Station Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed for cover as we unsuccessfully dodged the wet weather. Wisely we agreed to split up and that I would go to the casting whilst Miss Tweedle-Dee waiting in a nearby coffee shop. As I started to walk down the long city street I began to realised that this might not be such a good idea. I was soaked right through, my wet, pink shirt clung to my body, my hair was a mess and my make-up made me look like a soggy panda. Was this really going to go anywhere? They would take one look at me and just say "Go away, you are ridiculous!" Although as I thought this I still continued walking and it wasn't before long that I could see the building in question I needed to be.
 
Walking into the building I was greeted by a young receptionist and after a brief conversion involving a short, blonde, middle-aged women we were directed to the bathrooms to freshen up. Upon arrival at said bathroom I noticed that the hair I had spent the previous evening and this morning trying to perfect my locks was all in vain - This mop was going up in a chic, messy bun. The make-up was also adjusted before tackling the sodden blouse. Seeing that the hand dryer was a modern, stick-your-hands-in-and-blow-off-your-skin kind of machine made me pause for a second. How would I dry my shirt? The only way I knew how to I thought. Sweeping my arms through, bingo-wings included I dried my sleeves well. Now it was for the rest. As I squatted in front of this contraption pulling my shirt inside and waving frantically to keep the blowers going I wondered how silly I looked to the middle-aged, blonde lady in the bathroom with me. Shyly she struck up conversation and I could tell instantly she was a nervous wreck. Try to put her at ease I calmed her thoughts that the room was going to be filled with skinny, blonde, busty women looking for love. On the contrary I was thinking that the room would be stuffed with older females, looking for someone they (and their ten cats) can spend the rest of their days with. Well we didn't have long to wait as we walked into an office where we were given some forms to fill out. Trying to make small talk we discussed our lives previous and I discovered that she too came from the Home Counties surrounding London, fancied members of a well-known boy band and was previously married but in her words 'divorced that good for nothing lay-about'.
 
As I was scribbling down my details and reading through the terms and conditions a tall, handsome man walked in with brown hair and deep chocolate eyes. Just my type of man. Only thing is he was wearing a blue and white checked shirt, the kind that Mr. Workaholic used to wear to work. Great I thought. I'm now about to be interviewed by my Ex's Doppelganger! Walking into the lift he asked if I had ever done anything like this before as I was very calm and relaxed compared to others he had seen throughout the day. I said how I was used to camera's and the 'acting/fliming' environment as I studied media production and theory at college. As the lift reached the its destination he explained the process of the next few moments. Sitting down I started to tell my story. All of the questions were similar to the application and the phone call I had on Thursday evening so nothing to nerve-shattering. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome asked about my parents and their relationship. Now this was a difficult one to try and skirt around. If you hadn't already known, my parents split when I was just seventeen and one day but the legal proceedings have only just been sorted out. When I say 'Parents' now (in my blog) I refer then to my Dad and his partner. My mother? Ahh, see that is another one. A whole different story in a whole different library! The long and the short of it was that I wanted to maintain a relationship with my father after he was asked to leave the family home and this was something that my mother detested; so much so after a couple of months she chucked me out on the streets and told me to go live with my Father which was impossible since he was living at my grandparents. Luckily my uncle took me in until I moved in by myself, but I haven't spoken to my mother properly since. I call Dad's partner Mom just to make things easier to understand, although I would say it to her face.

I explained my life as it is and described some of the things I enjoy doing and had been through in my 20-something years of being on this earth. I skimmed over the 'thing' I had with Mr. Coffee as in all honesty it wasn't much to brag about. But when it came to talking bout Mr.Workaholic, suddenly I became alone in the room. Just me. And as I opened up about the day Mr.Workaholic came home to tell me he no longer wanted to be with me. It was so raw and fresh at the same time that I felt naked and exposed for the first time in many months. Talking about it in such a bare way made it all seem so real and like it had only happened yesterday. I didn't cry, but it could have easily turned into that if I had carried on. The subject of children and the white picket fence came up and I admitted that I wanted it all, just not right now. I said how I wanted to have fun first and experience life before settling down. After calling it a wrap, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome and his female colleague remarked on how mature and wise I was for my age and how such a young, vibrant, bubbly person can have endured so much in such a short amount of time. I knew that they weren't just talking of relationships but also the fact that my own mother threw me out at just seventeen. I was used to it though, everyone seems to feel sorry for me, I don't know why?

Taking the trusty lift downstairs again and walking back to the office, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome said again how cool and collected I was and made clear the next steps in the process. Filling out yet more paperwork and reading a heavy contract I listened to the other women chattering on about lives outside of this building. Most of them I could tell were from London just by their accent and how they spoke. 'Ive been travelling for nine years around Romanian, Russia, France and the Middle East' and 'I went there on my gap year actually' were a few of the phrases throw around by the socialites whilst I tried to read through the extensive pages of boring contract. Finally signing and handing back my papers I waited in the room of city dwellers and there I listened more to a middle-aged women discussing how her boisterous and confident attitude didn't bode well with men and thus the lack of relationships. Once I was cleared to go I thought nothing more of heading straight out the door and back to the coffee shop where Miss Tweedle-Dee was waiting for me.

Skipping down the wet high street I savoured the sights of the city; the tall buildings, grey pavements and loud noises made me grateful of my quiet suburbia back home with Mom and Dad. Arriving at the coffee shop I found a rather tired Miss Tweedle-Dee watching TV on her smart-phone and texting friends. "Before you start, if you want a drink you should get one now" she said. After dithering for a few seconds I went to get something to drink. As I approached the back of the queue I saw a friendly face. Is that who I think it is? It was! It was two very famous members of a English boy-band whose name sounds like McSky. I was very happy and thought about asking for a photo but figured since one of them had their hood up indoors and they were dressed casually that they were attempting an incognito snack break. After rushing back to Miss Tweedle-Dee and announcing my findings of their order I raced back to gawp at them some more. Once they had left I placed my order and once seated safely at my table with Miss Tweedle-Dee beside me I told my tale.

After slurping down our beverages Miss Tweedle-Dee and I headed back to the tubes for some last minute shopping and sightseeing, winding up at Marble Arch next to Hyde Park for some dinner. I enjoyed our little trip and whilst nothing may never come of the casting specifically, it was a nice experience and one I can share with you all. Maybe this is a step in the right direction for me as far as dating goes? Mind you I better not be settling down too soon I have mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic weekend away coming up soon so hold on tight for some more prowling nights out.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

A Lucky Escape ...

Evening,
 
Well, what a week this has been. Here in the UK we have been experiencing some extreme weather conditions, of which have blown of several of my plans! I am very angry at this. It seems that us Brits can't seem to deal with a few drops of the white stuff - I'm on about snow; Filthy!. I mean a single helping of it is enough to bring this country to its knees - OK, now I am playing with you.
 
So this weekend was meant to be mine and Miss Chocolate's romantic mini break away to North-Wales-ish. Wrong. The snow had better plans. And so all our plans for a naked skinny-dipping spa, eating fast food in the bathroom and heading to the shops just to buy an outfit that we would return after our rowdy night out have now all gone to shit because of the bad weather up North. Granted, we have changed the dates, but I don't know whether I can get the day off from work and this is causing some ruffled feathers in the love nest of Miss Chocolat a la Moi. Regardless I am sure that we will be the best of friends soon as we have an impending weekend of havoc to create as the bunny ears are out and we are ready to party like its Easter 2013! I also have an 80's V 90's night to attend with Miss Chocolate, Miss Tweedle-Dee, Miss Tweedle-Dee and some other well known faces. So this weekend should be a blast if the bloody snow holds off. It'll give me something interesting to tell of next week.
 
And after last weeks drama surrounding Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that this chapter is now closed and I shall no longer be obsessing, fantasising or thinking of the so-called 'rocker', although I use that term very loosely. In a desperate attempt to gain his attention I did attempt to text Mr. Coffee several times throughout the week, even a phone-call or two, inviting him over for dinner and drinks, but all to no avail. So after logging into Facebook and seeing that he was online I struck up a conversation knowing that he wouldn't be in a talkative mood. Pop! Suddenly to my surprise Mr. Coffee answered back and we started small talk. I asked how college was and he said he was enjoying it especially since there were drama's erupting and romances blossoming. This got me thinking. "Does that mean that your trying to pursue someone then?" I typed, cautious of what the answer might be. He replied with Maybe. I sat there, stunned. A small part of me thought 'Knock, Knock, Oh Hey! You know it might be you that he's talking about?' Knowing that this wasn't the case but still hoping that it was I asked another question, "Was that the case last week?" but silence soon followed. I asked again and this time Mr. Coffee replied. "Sort of - Its complicated, but she wasn't there no" was the weak response that he attempted to fool me with. I hesitated to believe him. Then a surge of energy as the ice melted his hands and they flowed freely across his keyboard telling me how I somehow put him on the spot last week. Not True. And how its all really complicated right now. Calm and collected I started my own scat along my laptop keypad. How dare he! "Whats going on between us?" I asked burning up with a simmering mixture of embarrassment and anger. Again more silence. Again I asked. "I don't think there is anything between us, dude. I just don't think we're right for each other." - Quote and verbatim. I mean who says 'dude' now-days anyway. I'm sorry I didn't realise you were Axel Rose? Humiliation swallowed me up making me feel like a fool in the way of relationships yet again. But at least I know - I'm glad that it took more than eight weeks to get sorted! Seems like it may be a blessing in disguise as the self-proclaimed womaniser moves onto his next piece of meat. *High-Pitch-Gay-Man-Voice* "Uhh, yeah I'm not a Hump-'em-and-dump-'em kinda guy". Yeah ... Much! 
 
Mr. Mot has also made several appearances this week, lending his ear and sharing life as well as yet again asking me to spend some 'quality' time with him. The latest one, is me nursing him back to health and tending to his every need. Every. Need. But as it would happen I don't have any qualifications to nurse anyone back to health and impersonating a figure of authority within the public sector is an arresting offence. Even so I am sure Mr. Mot wouldn't say not to handcuffing me and having his wicked way with a naughty convict.

So here's hoping the weather holds out for me this weekend and stays nice so I can get my claws into a new obsession! Out on the prowl again ...

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Teenage Kicks

Hello,
 
Now as I explained in my last post, I had been invited somewhere important. At the time I couldn't divulge much more as other attendees are avid followers and would have foiled my plan. So, a few weeks ago I got talking to an old school friend of mine who also happens to be in a band with and close friend of Mr. Coffee's - I know, I know; Just bear with me on this one. So after we had done away with small talk I started discussing booking him and the band for a charity fundraiser event I am planning on hosting in the coming months. He agreed and I said that I would get back to him with some of the details. Anyway, I heard nothing from him until I had a social-networking invitation to an event where by his band was playing ... along with none other than Mr. Coffee himself. In a flap I immediately messaged Miss Chocolate, knowing that she would probably not give me a lecture about 'going back to old flames' as much as Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb would. And so a plan was conceived that Miss Chocolate and I would go on a bar crawl for St. Patricks Day, which would just happen to end up at the same location as the gig and at precisely the right time. All week, cunningly planning and plotting what to wear and how to have my hair, thinking up a good alibi and what to say. Now this would not have been such a big deal had it not bee for the earlier incident of bailing on me, (See post 'Time to Say I Told You So ... ')  but regardless as the week flew by yet again, Saturday night loomed ever closer.
 
After waking up at sparrow's fart to go shopping with Papa and spending all day pampering myself into oblivion I was finally ready. Strangely Papa dropped me to the station and was concerned about how I was getting home, who I was going out with and all the other things a parent worries about. I do love him sometimes, but on this occasion I think he knew I was up to something and was just digging around for the scoop! As I sat on the train gulping down Orange Juice and Vodka it took me back to my teens and reminded me that there has never really been a point in life where I haven't been obsessed or fixated with something or someone, usually multiples of different things at the same time. And Saturday night was no different. Although, reading this back in my head does make me look a tad infatuated and preoccupied by Mr. Coffee and his participation in the evening. I'm not. To clarify, I am merely interested in pursuing him further. I would, after my resent encounters with Mr. Coffee, like to confront the coward and ask him what the hell he was playing at and how he feels about me. Well I got my chance didn't I ...
 
After arriving in town and heading pretty much straight to pub in which Mr. Coffee and his band were playing, Miss Chocolate and I settled into the bar stools to have a drink. However, Miss Chocolate is more of the clubbing and pubbing type, not usually accustomed to loud rock music in a small, stuffy pub. Regardless of those factors she embraced it with every bit of muster the girl had and towards the end of the session, I even caught her singing along and dancing with the best of us. I am proud to say that I broke her gig-virginity! As we were sitting at the bar having a chat, I was tapped on the shoulder by another old school friend who just happens to also be Mr. Coffee's best friend and fellow band-mate. I introduced him to Miss Chocolate and asked why he was hear, fully knowing the answer before I even asked it. He explained that he was here with 'the band' and that they were scheduled for 9pm. After a few tid-bits of small talk he left. Miss Chocolate and I mooched around for a bit, having a cigarette, complaining about the wet and 'inappropriate' rain before my shoulder was yet again disturbed by an important person. Mr. Coffee! So it seems that after bumping into most of his band-mates, a few mutual friends and his step-dad, Mr. Coffee had came over to say hello. But I had more for him than hello! I was fully ready to turn around and give him a big piece of my mind, but as I turned to greet him all hope of controlling the hormonal teenager in me dried up. Deep brown eyes, dark floppy hair and a smile that I needed my RayBan's for. Even better looking that I remembered I tried to compose myself and we started the standard conversation. My alibi worked a treat but there was still an elephant in the room to confront.
 
"Why didn't you turn up?" I asked as Mr. Coffee's face went cold and fearful. He knew what he was in for. "I'm so sorry. I was scared and panicked. I just thought that you wanted something more than I was willing to offer you. I really am so sorry. You must think I am a dick?" was his reply. I was fuming, yet still on cloud nine. Odd feeling that - Wanting to throw your drink on someone but knowing that if you do your just going to add to their sexual-appeal. Mr. Coffee shuffled from foot to foot for a while just repeating himself over and over, apologising constantly. I had told him in the past that I didn't want anything serious like the last train wreck of a relationship, but just wanted some fun and to share the coming summer with and I felt that I needed to reassure him of this again. The conversation of a NSA relationship came into the chat's limelight only to be stamped on by his band being called up. "Will you stay?" Mr. Coffee asked, pleading me to stay. "You know I have always wanted you to see me play with the guys." I turned to Miss Chocolate and her face said it all. I had to compose myself and become hard and cold - Show him whose boss and that I am still upset with him. "Mmm, I don't know, my friend wants to head on to a nightclub now so I don't know, I might." I replied as my legs resumed from their jelly-like state. After accepting this, Mr. Coffee turned to walk away, tail between legs.

As Mr. Coffee began to play I took a prime position in the already large crowd and for the next half hour I was propelled back to being fifteen again, admiring a band I knew well, shaking my hair and singing to what words I knew. I concentrated hard as I watched Mr. Coffee's eyes frantically search the crowd for my face, not knowing weather I stayed to watch or not. After a few songs I caught his eye and Mr. Coffee sent me a wink which nearly killed me. I felt like I was in the front row at a Elvis Concert. If I wasn't ready to blow before - I sure as hell was now! Annoyingly though there was a young Polish man standing behind me and throughout the whole set he was trying to kiss me and talk to me. I just smiled as I couldn't fully understanding a word he was saying, given the noise and language barrier. Looking back now my intoxicated state he looked like a blonde lab rat and, and as I couldn't hear him I just continued to smile which only seemed to cement in his head that I was his for the evening. At one point I think he even asked "If I buy drink for you, you come home with me, yes?" and in a flap I promptly pointed to the tall, dark and handsome musician onstage and said that I was dating Mr. Coffee. Instantly his hands flew up in the air and he apologised, however, knowing that Mr. Coffee was already struggling to see me, I decided to play and flirted with the foreigner, hoping that Mr. Coffee would see and sweep me off my feet, saving me from this manic stranger.

Once the band stopped playing I got ready to leave, but not before Miss Chocolate had something to do with it. As Mr. Coffee stepped off stage I was pushed forward into his arms. After I had composed myself and stepped out of his bubble the flood gates opened and I gushed about how much I enjoyed his performance. We stood around for ages nattering before I got the eye from Miss Chocolate, indicating that it was time to leave. I explained to Mr. Coffee that I have to go and asked him several times to come along to the nightclub and continue the party, but lack of finances gave that idea the boot. Reluctantly I bid farewell and turned to leave. But then I remembered a task I had been asked to do earlier on in the evening by my drinking buddy. I turned back to the hot musician. "My friend says that were not leaving until we kiss and make up" I said boldly to which Mr. Coffee replied with some lame excuse that he would never be able to live it down in front of his friends and step-dad who were just on the table next to us. As I pulled away from a hug our eyes met, earthy brown matched with sea green. But just as I was about to turn and leave Mr. Coffee pulled me in close for a quick kiss on the lips. Sneaky, cheeky and throwing all inhibitions to the wind! I loved it. Following a swap in numbers I skipped out of the pub with his lips still burning on mine.

So where are we now. Well after gaining advise from the all power love-goddess that is Miss Chocolate I am being told to play it cool and text him mid-week which is tomorrow, so I shall keep you all posted on this as it unravels but I'm not hold my breath, especially after last time! But it wasn't just me who got lucky on Saturday night, Oh no! The luck of the Irish stuck Miss Chocolate when she met up with a guy she had met online. Safe to say that his profile picture was probably Catfished from a search engine!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

I Would Like To Avoid Feburary, Please

Good day to you all,
 
After last weeks episode from Mr. Coffee I am glad to say that he is now well and truly out of my way and permanently excluded from my 'to do list'. I have been thinking alot lately about my love-life, or the somewhat lack of it. I thought about Mr. Mot and how he has suddenly grown a conscience and wants to be a faithful boyfriend despite his girlfriends drama and his insatiable appetite for sex. I have thought of Mr. Coffee and how much I invested in such a short amount of time, only to be taken for a ride and left high and dry. I thought about how much energy and time I put into Mr. Workaholic, as well as building our life together. All of it now wasted. I thought about how easily and quickly I fall for guys, and how hard I hit the ground. Are these just my issues or do other people deal with this in life too?
 
I have had a fragile week to say the least. This time last year I was in sunny yet slightly chilly Cyprus with Mr. Workaholic and his family on holiday. This, I feel, was the holiday in which he made up his mind that he didn't want to be with me anymore. Valentine's Day doesn't help much either. To be honest I didn't really notice until the middle of last week when I recognised the date and then realised why. I would much rather pretend I had never been to Cyprus and that it all never happened. But that's impossible. Even if I delete tangible memories they will forever be scratched into my mind. I had to call him earlier actually to sort out some financial issues but whilst dialling his number I felt sick and nervous, violently shaking. I was imaging Mr. Workaholic scramble around for his phone or him picking it up in a local pub surrounded by friends. Hearing his voice flooded my body with feelings, both good and bad. The phone call was brief but I still sometimes wonder about Mr. Workaholic. Does he talk about me to his friends and family? Does he think about me? Is he reminded of me regularly? Is he safe and well? I laugh sometimes. Regardless of how much Mr. Workaholic broke me, I still care for him and to an extent still love him. I gave up everything for this one person who in the end could never really give me a proper reason as to why he left. I don't ever think I can love anyone as much as I loved that guy. (I would say man but after everything he put me through as well as some of the weird and wonderful lets say 'experimental' moments he has encountered with the same sex I doubt that we can call Mr. Workaholic a true man? But that is to be shared for another time - Tell you what, leave a comment if you want to hear what happened, including all the gorey details!)
 
Getting slightly depressive now though so I shall brighten up the mood with some of this weeks anecdotes. After not hearing from Mr. Waistcoat for a while I decided to text him, making up some excuse I had been away and that was the reason for lack of contact. Anyway, I explained briefly but concisely how I would like to go on a date with him. However as I have heard nothing for seventy-two hours I can only presume that its a polite 'No'. Upon this I decided to launch myself into something of a new hobby. Dating of the online variety. I could sit at home in just my under-garments or on the train home from work and liaise with other like minded males about subjects of interest, gradually, maybe working towards an actual encounter that doesn't involve a screen and a good Internet connection. I think that it might teach me to become more resilient to a mans charm and coax me into opening my eyes more when it comes to meeting men. Its only early and I haven't really spent that much time looking at successful candidates yet but all in good time. After all a foggy club at 2.54am whilst drunk and wearing heels is never a good first impression. Plus it will add a whole new dimension to my life, giving you my dear readers something else to dive into when you need a pick-me-up!

I'm off for a weekend away with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and shall be back next week with some juicy tales!
 
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Time to Say I Told You So ...

Hello again,

So last week was the week of the 'prowl' and can you believe that Mr. Waistcoat had a fair run with communicating. It has since however dried up, but to be honest I'm not all that bothered. And especially after the weekend I have had I really feel like becoming Asexual ... If I was ever good! I should probably explain my weekend, that might help a little.

Last week as I was finishing my last entry (A Night of Waistcoats, Free Drinks and Disappointment) I got talking to Mr. Coffee. We spoke for a while and turned into the longest conversation I have had with him in what seemed like ages. As us British do, we conversed over small talk and each others daily lives but I soon steered it in a direction I had wanted for a while. After he asked what I was doing and I replied with "finishing off the blog" came an awkward silence. It was followed by him confessing that he was an avid reader. Oops! I hadn't thought I had been that unsavoury really, given the truth and situations. regardless he promptly answered my question by saying that yes he was offended and upset by what I had written earlier and that this was a contributing factor to why he was not talking to me like we used to. the word 'Unfulfilling' came to mind and I suddenly realised that maybe I wasn't as savoury as i had once thought. But as explained it was the truth and sometimes it hurts. I had apologised and we planned a catch-up for that coming Saturday.

Friday night came and I had heard nothing from Mr. Coffee, until I logged into my Facebook page and up he popped for a chat. We confirmed the place and time we were to meet and I finally thought that this could be a start-a-fresh for us as friends and maybe something more in the future. I decided to call this a 'Make-or Break Date' in which I would really assess why I was so infatuated with Mr. Coffee. I never told him this but I was thinking that maybe after some time apart I would be able to see if there was even a fizzle between us that meant more. Unfortunately we never got to that meeting ...

One of the last things Mr. Coffee and I spoke of was his request for me to call him at 10.30am to wake him from a lazy slumber. I agreed and we departed for bed. Upon waking myself Saturday morning I went around my usual weekend duties until 10.30am came and I rang Mr. Coffee as asked. it rang - and rang - and rang - and rang again some more. no response at all. I left it for a bit not wanting to accept what my head was telling me. I called again several times before I gave up trying. Lets just conclude that I was stood up by Mr. Coffee, who I was meant to be spending the afternoon on a 'Make-or Break Date'. I think its safe to say that it was a lucky break rather than make.

It is now Tuesday and more than four days have passed by since being stood up. Still no phone call or message apologising or explaining. I had tried to justify why he hadn't turned up but came to the realisation that even your Nan dying you would still at least drop me a text to let me know. Maybe not the gentleman Mr. Coffee had made out to be? Although, as I have said, maybe it was a blessing in disguise? I say this as I met up with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb tonight and as it just so happens Miss Tweedle-Dee had some juicy gossip for us all that I shall now share with you all. So turns out that Miss Tweedle-Dee's brothers, girlfriend (You still keeping up?) has been told that one of her close college friends is getting close to Mr. Coffee and that he has been trying to worm his way in. This has been going on for several weeks which would co-inside with the fact that he has not been talking to me for just as long. Funny that eh?

Regardless of all this I have been busy planning more nights out full of mayhem and mischief with Miss Chocolate as well as a mini break weekend with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb for some well earned men-free shopping. Cannot wait!

All this talk of a women only is making me very happy and ready for Summer 2013 more than ever! Bring it on!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx