The Deep Joys Of Dreamboys!

Morning One and all, 

Racing out of work I had battled the Friday afternoon traffic, picked up milk and bread and even posted a couple of items before heading back home to an eager Mr. Warehouse. But oh no, it wasn't him I was buzzing round like a headless fly for, no, no. My best friends, Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb were coming over. Not only that but we were heading out. Although much to my dismay not for a messy night out on the tiles. Nope, tonight was the last little dribble of my birthday surprises ... Tickets to see Dreamboys Live! Now if you don't know what or who Dreamboys are I urge you to head and check them out as I am terrible at explaining what theyre job description is. I tried to explain to my dear Nanna the other day that I was going to the theatre and after asking what acclaimed performance I was planning to watch I had to explain to her that these men barely kept any clothes on let alone bagged a Tony award. The same went for the poor shopkeeper on the way back to my flat after the show when he asked what our plans were we sheepishly answered that we had been in the company of the Dreamboys that evening and then ensued a conversation and explanation as to what the Dreamboys were.  I think by the end of the whole Charade that people just asked us so we would squirm and wonder what we should tell them we had been up to that evening. 

Nevertheless it was a wonderful evening beginning with the staple trip to the local Spoons (AKA Wetherspoons Pub) for a few bevvies and some dinner before the real show. Heading out into the cold Autumn air I pulled my coat around me, thankful that I wasn't spending a lonely night in with Jonathan Ross or Graham Norton on a Friday Night. But as we arrived closer to the venue I suddenly didn't look so out of place, dressed up in my heels and nude dress whilst my friends donned a more casual wear of Converse and Jeans which far more comfortable than what some of the other audience members were wearing. Finishing our cigarettes we sneaked in and found our seats. The venue, Bedford Corn Exchange, whilst being in the town centre was surprisingly comfortable to hold a show of this calibre and size I thought. Whilst not the biggest show on earth, the hall was packed out and as this was my first time visiting since being a very small child with my father accompanying him to a military 'do', I found the place beautiful and made me want to explore its beauty even more after the chairs, bleachers and stage were all gone. 

Awaiting the men on stage I took a look at the level of attractiveness this room possessed against myself. There were girls, mostly young, but a few not so, but almost all of them that were young and I suppose in a sense sharing the same age category of myself being late-teens and early twenties (Shhh, I can still try to get away with it!) all skinny size 10's with long hair, manicured nails and cracking dress sense. But it made me wonder how many of them actually had a man at home like I did. Sure they may be young and pretty, but they can't be the actual face of Rimmel all the time and at some point those fake eyelashes and biscuit tan have to come off. Would a guy still fancy them if they were dressed a little more normal in a pub? Maybe? (I know that in my defence when on a night out men feel or at least I feel that they are less threatened by me as I am probably more normal looking and closer to the-morning-after-result that Little Miss Twinkle-Tits over there swigging her sixth Smirnoff Ice) Would a Dreamboy give them a second look? And there you have it. The crux of the issue is that most girls think that to be with a Ken you need to be a Barbie and I suppose yes, but for how long before a Cindy or a Shelly comes into the picture. This got me thinking and yes, whilst I was about to watch an mirage of godly men on the stage in front of my very eyes, like porn, Santa and those Nigerian-Uncle emails they were all fake. 
Real men aren't like that. Real men are hairy and burp and fart ... And then laugh about it. Real men buy their girlfriends Haribo when they least expect it just because 'they were in the shop and knew that you liked them'. Real men can cry at Disney films and have absolutely no qualms attempting to squeeze into a Little Red Riding Hood Costume for Halloween. I love real men.

As the lights went down and the show began I looked to my two best friends and asked what we were all about to encounter. Curtains opened and screams filled the room as the act began to swish and turn in provocative move that would make even the Vicar blush. But as I hooted, whistled and screeched at all the scantily clad men on stage during their 'performances' I couldn't help but wonder what we were all doing here. Why had every person in that room purchased a ticket and why was the general population of those tickets bought by women? Well who else other than a few errant gay guys would want to see naked men on a pedestal of sorts, flashing their genitalia and creaming themselves up for another lucky lady, or man in some instances. I pondered across the ideas that whilst the media slams men for gawking at Page 3 (which is now sadly no longer with us due to a boring-arse feminist campaign to ban it) and now women are shunning men even holding doors open for them or having a friendly wolf-whistle in the street, it is somehow widely accepted that women are allowed freely and with little or no confrontation to go about acting the same way towards men straight out of a Diet Coke Advert. 

Now I am not trying to get everyone's back up but this seriously crossed my mind as I enjoyed the show on Friday night which believe you me, I enjoyed one hell of a lot. So much so I am thinking about going next year. But I just couldn't shake the fact that if the roles were reversed and it was hordes of men sat here with Victoria Secret-esk models on stage would it still have the lack of Media attention?! The truth is no. Why? I don't know. But what I do know is that if you are prepared to have the conversation about media portraying women in such a sexualised and revealing way then you must be prepared to say the same for the way that women can be just as animalistic and hungry when on the hunt for a man dressed and painted in the same seedy, sexual light as Page 3. 

Honestly, I don't see the problem with it. I thoroughly enjoyed the show and all that were involved with it but that was just it. It was a show. Something make-believe and pretend. The normal likes of me and you would probably never end up with a man like one of those oiled up for all female eyes to see. And besides would you really want to when you can see, barely when stripped to the nude, just how much athletics and hard work goes into a man of that build. The same with the women in the audience, crying out to be next in line for a dance. They make such an effort staying slim, constantly re-applying make-up and even considering going under the knife all for the title of Beautiful. I suppose if that night taught me anything at all (apart from some cracking sexy dance moves) that we all have our own body insecurities, both Men and Women - All of us seen in the media as unrealistic, airbrushed, new and improved versions of ourselves. Yes. We all want to be beautiful and gorgeous, but it is about perspective and learning who you are and loving who you are, inside and out. Because whilst I enjoyed the show in all its glory and splendour, I knew that I was going home that night to my very manly, very real Dreamboy. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Meeting the Friends and Hearts That Mend

Hello to you, 

My, my what a week it has been. A week of mischief, meetings and marvellous company. To be honest it was as sticky as I expected, what with meeting Mr. Cheese's friends and all. It could have been a lot worse. Like if his ex-girlfriend had turned up. Yeah could have been a tad awkward there?!

So as I sat at my desk and slogged it out at my new job in finance I realised that it was again that time in the week where it was home-time on a Friday evening. Packing my stuff up and hitching a ride to the station from a kind work colleague again I would be lying f I wasn't nervous a little bit about meeting the friends of illustrious Mr. Cheese. Although I should be thankful in the fact that I only met one, a fellow female, on Friday evening and then had the weekend to recover before meeting the old school friends gang on Sunday evening to celebrate a friends birthday. Slouched in the passenger's seat of the little red run-around as the sun slowly settled on the horizon over Bedfordshire I soon realised  that in fact I did look like dog shit. My band tee and jeans were fine for work on a dress-down-Friday, but for meeting pretty much Mr. Cheese's best friend; Mmm, Not so much! Thing is that all week I had been planning what I was going to wear and how my hair would be and what style of make-up to go for. A nice sheer floaty blouse to make me look not like a hippo in drag, simple make up topped with killer heels that would hopefully wow the BFF into giving me the seal of approval. And whilst I had made it to the town where we planned to meet for dinner and drinks in good time, I knew I wouldn't have enough time to grab something new to wear. So I embraced my trampiness and rocked it in my 'cool' t-shirt and wedged-boots. 

Walking from the station though I figured would be alot easier and quicker than waiting for public transport, plus it would be a fun walk. Oh and how right I was! Teetering down the road, head down, thinking of conversation starters and making sure my hair didn't go crazy I suddenly hear a voice from behind. I listened, tuning in to what they were ranting about. It was me! "Work it honey! Work it! That's it swing your hips!" the womanly voice bellowed down the busy street. As I tried to ignore it I knew I would have to turn around and acknowledge this Guru somehow. Expecting someone from America's Next Top Model shouting encouraging tips for walking in heels I was shocked to find that as I turned around it was not Tyra Banks but someone who resembled a meatball. There I was walking down Hitchin High Street, minding my own business when all of a sudden Dumpling-features starts raining down heel help. Smiling I turned back around hoping she would stop. She didn't. Continuing I could tell she wouldn't give up until I did as she asked. So I relaxed my ankles, pointed my toes, pushed my chest and my buttocks out and swayed my hips like never before. Now Girls, you know what I mean when you secretly line up the paving stones on the ground or see an empty corridor and you then spring into action, taking on the persona of a skinny model thundering down a D&G catwalk runway. Bag on your arm. Stern look on your face. Working it. Somehow the Meatball's encouragement worked and I stomped into town in style, feeling alot better about myself, despite the embarrassment.

As Mr. Cheese and I sat in the local bar awaiting the impending doom of meeting his lady friend we chatted as normal. I noticed in the corner of the bar a man sitting alone. After watching for some moments, a women walked in and sat down with him. A first date. It threw me back to my first date with Mr. Cheese and oh how memorable that one was. Gazing forever into his eyes I forgot that I looked a mess and slowly let the cider wash away my remaining fears of aesthetics. Smitten, I was about to say something I had never said out loud for the first time properly, when Mr. Cheese's old university pal arrived and I stood to greet her, knowing that I could just simply tell him later on. Conversation flowed right away, thanks to Mr. Cheese elaborating on the fact that I quiet openly fancy another one of his house-mates from uni days I have yet to meet. As giggles were shared so were stories of what we all do for a living and as time passed we began to get more hungry. And so off to the Mexican we went. 

A wonderful meal later and several snigger's about the names on some of the yummy cocktails Mr. Cheese, the friend and I retired to the bar upstairs and continued the conversation around awkward moments, usually to do with me. I loved how Mr. Cheese gave me the floor to be myself and tell brilliant stories of my past, and since I adore nothing more than being the centre of attention it was perfect and it was safe to say that I was in my element. Soon minutes turned to hours and eventually it was time to go home, but not before heading for some cheeky shots in a bar nearer town. All three of us encountered slippery nipples, threesomes and nearly a screaming orgasm, all without taking our clothes off. Gotta love the naming of some drinks 'eh? Then again, I was fully aware that the screaming orgasm was only moments away when Mr. Cheese and I got home, and I'm not talking beverages. 

Throwing me across the bed and diving on top of me our naked bodies embraced each other in a hot battle. Sliding me across my silken bedsheets I hung off the end of the bed whilst he made sure the neighbours knew his name. Oh what a god that man is! Defiantly one to save for the 'Bank'. Saturday morning Mr. Cheese woke me as usual when either of us sleeps over, by gently kissing me on the forehead to wake me from my slumber. How wonderful! It was at this moment that I remembered what I wanted to tell Mr. Cheese the previous evening in the pub before his female friend turned up. But before I had a chance he said how he was hungry and to be honest I needed to get up as I had a train to catch at midday to go visit my Grandad whom was in Hospital near London. "Its OK" I told myself you can let him know later on. Meeting my Uncle, Aunt and their two adorable boys I knew I would enjoy their company for the day even though the circumstances weren't great. After arriving home from the Hospital, shattered from my cousin's rambunctiousness all I wanted was a quiet Saturday evening was spent lounging in front of the box, snuggled up with Mr. Cheese and that's what I got. Laying in his arms as we drifted off to sleep I said what I had been meaning to say all weekend, but alas he had fallen asleep. Bless.

Sunday morning I felt prepared to say it again as I made breakfast for a sleepy Mr. Cheese. Mmm, Warm toasted bagels with smoked salmon and cheese spread and a pot of breakfast tea to wash it all down. I think Mr. Cheese enjoyed it at least I hoped so? Mind you, I didn't hear any complaining as he chomped down and watched Match Of The Day with me on the sofa, cuddled in a soft, fleecy blanket but before we knew it half the day had disappeared and we were sat, entwined in each others limbs watching what I call 'House Porn' which is basically really nice houses on house programmes that you know can never own without robbing a bank. Mr. Cheese and I shared ideas of the perfect home and thus a perfect image of the future was starting to blossom. Quickly I stamped it out though, knowing that I didn't want to get my hopes up and putting all my eggs in one basket. 

After a lazy afternoon it was soon time for the last encounter of the weekend. The old school friends. This time I made sure I looked the dog's bollocks rather than the dog's ass. As I lay down beside Mr. Cheese as he napped I gazed longingly at his face as he dozed. I thought of what I wanted to say and how I would word it again and again. Eventually he awoke and told me how stunning I looked. I figured this was a better time than any to tell him how I had been feeling since last weekend. It was then that I confessed how I was loosing my war and that whilst I try to fight it nearly every day and at every moment I am with him, I am, in actual fact, falling madly in love with Mr. Cheese. To this his response was initially I think shock. Don't know why. I'm a babe! (Obviously ironic because I am not a babe ... Much!) He didn't really say much after that. Just silence. I genuinely did not expect anything back as I know he is not in the same place I am right now in terms of mind, body and soul; but I at least expected some words. Finally he broke the awkwardness and said that whilst he had not yet thought about those feelings or idea's yet, he did really like me and cared for me very much. Well. Its something right?

Later that evening as we walked into the quiet, country pub where Mr. Cheese and I had our second date, I felt more nervous than Friday night. A larger group and more to impress. "Bring it on!" I thought. The birthday card seemed to go down well, as did the illustrations inside. Yet again the night flew by in a haze of idle small talk and standard conversing. I spoke to a lovely man whom shared a passion for all things British like myself including Margret Thatcher - god rest her soul, and shared in my argument that England needs a lady in charge. I also talked with a training doctor/surgeon and an aspiring writer and his graphic designer girlfriend. Yes. Mr. Cheese's friends are posh. Yes. Most of them went to private schools. Yes. They all went to university and had degrees. And there I was. Little state-school, university drop-out, uninteresting me. For the first time in a long while I was in the background of the event and for some odd reason I cannot understand why, every time I went to open my mouth and say something the whole pub would go quiet, hanging on what I was about to say. And then I would just muddle my words and make a congealed mess of my sentence. Yes. I was definitely the most unintellectual person there. They must have thought I was on day release or something?! As the night wore on though and people started leaving for bed I felt more at ease and started sharing anecdote of life with the birthday boy and his missus. Then came the question.

"So, how long have you too been together then?" asked the birthday novelist himself, imposing the idea that we were in fact a couple. Awkwardly I looked at Mr. Cheese in panic, knowing that we hadn't really thought about tackling these types of questions. Stepping forward though he simple said that we had just been seeing each other for a few months. Phew! Close call. Then the question about how we met from the graphic-designer-girlfriend and I explained away our first date with ease and soon the conversation moved on, not before being told that I was a keeper and that we should totally hook up. Screaming in my head I thought "Jeez, I'm working on it here!" as I smiled politely and took the compliments, blushing and looking at the ground. As last orders were rung out from the bell by the bar I whispered to Mr. Cheese that I was going to the bathroom and to watch my bag. As I turned to walk away he pulled me back slightly before I got too far and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek. Grinning like a Cheshire cat I scurried off to the bathroom and did a happy dance as I was followed by a chorus of "Awwhs" from his friends.

And so that has been my week so far, well the weekend at least. Work isn't all that interesting I am sure you will agreed. Living for the weekend is the best, especially when you have great people to spend it with. All this fluffy 'Love' stuff has got me thinking about the future though. Maybe a little too much? I mean I am still young and so is Mr. Cheese. Do I really want to tie myself down into another relationship again. I don't know. I love being single. But I also love the feeling that I get when I'm in a relationship. I like spending time with Mr. Cheese alot and can't think of anything better to do with my time. But I also have to live a little before settling down again me thinks. Uhh, and here in lies the issues! 

'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

The Fallen Gods Of Tin Foil ...

Hello, 

So after last week's spur of the moment passion with Mr. Cheese I have been rather lonely this week. Its surprising how much you miss someone when they're not texting or emailing you constantly. Obviously I would never tell Mr. Cheese to his face that I missed him and that every moment was a complete drag as I did not have his prose and linguistics to keep me entertained. Well at least not until he says it first! Haha. 

After receiving several emails from Mr. Cheese I am glad to say that whilst I am really enjoying this sudden change in my love life, I am not wholly kean on the idea of a full blown relationship. Besides, if I am brutally honest I still would like to live life as a Singleton. Not in a slaggy way but I enjoy the fact that I can make time for myself, friends and family without having to think what the other-half will think of me spending my time. I'm happy to have Mr. Cheese though don't get me wrong, but the word 'Boyfriend' still scares me. Mr. Cheese and I have discussed this however and we are both happy being as we are with no labels and no stamp to drag us down. But since our discussion I have found myself stumbling upon possibilities and I would not be impartial to the idea now it has been temporarily decided. Not right away though. Don't want to wish away my freedom yet!

But yes I feel myself more accepting of him now than before. Maybe because I am slowly in control of my falling but also because he is sooo different to all of the others? He is not perfect. But then again who is. I sure as hell am not, so why should I expect someone I'm dating to be. I think that ever since Mr. Workaholic and I split I can now see that whilst you may think you have 'The One' and 'Mr. Perfect' they are probably in disguise - A horrible, ogre-like, weedy creature underneath the mask who is horrible to you but all you see is their beauty and perfection. I suppose love really does make you blind! What I think I need is a knight in shining armour, maybe on a zebra steed ... Or just a bumbling buffoon in tin foil that can make me happy. Not much to ask for I think?

Now, as you may know already some of you, it has been a Bank Holiday here in the UK, and for once I actually didn't end up drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Mainly because Miss Chocolate was packing for a family holiday and Miss Tweedle-Dumb was visiting the boyfriend. Oh and everyone else who had money was off gallivanting to festivals left, right and centre. So that left little old me on my todd wondering what to do this Bank Holiday and after working a long day on Saturday all I wanted was good company and giggles - So I plan a Slumber Party!

After finishing work at eight in the evening I call up my friend Miss Tweedle-Dee and arrange for her to come over to my new place and we can watch scary films, I'll laugh, she'll secretly defecate herself and we'll gossip till the sun comes up - Or until we both get so tired we spoon in my silken bedsheets until we both fall asleep. Boy did we have a good night. After arguing with my games console for not accepting my DVD of a (really awful) horror flick I turned to my laptop to save the day and we snuggled on the sofa to enjoy. So shit was it we ended up talking about more pressing matters like why I can strangely smell a strong scent of sweet, ripening banana's and she cannot. Miss Tweedle-Dee said that it is a common occurrence for the recently deceased to let a loved one know they are with them by injecting the room with a strong smell of something they associate with that person - Although neither of us knew anybody with a strong passion for banana's. So we put this down to the fact that our dear Miss Tweedle-Dumb loathes blackening banana's and that maybe she was dead and was trying to give us a sign. Thankfully Miss Tweedle-Dumb is not dead and is alive and well. 

Sunday morning rolled around and what a better way to wake up than being told you have hideous morning breath by your best-friend, Miss Tweedle-Dee. Hmmm, Like her shit don't stink?! Thinking of things to do we lounged in bed and came up with a brilliant idea to go to a gay bar. Now I am sure that from the amount of Mr's I talk about I am defiantly loving the cock but we thought it would be a good idea since we had heard some good things from people about a couple of local bars. Unfortunately though we both got lazy and couldn't be arsed. Maybe some other time I shall enlighten you all with a story about how I went to a gay bar once and maybe how I was mistaken for a transvestite. Maybe. I hope not that story though. Mind you I do have a habit of getting the best tales from going out and about. Eh, you never know I might bump into the ever promiscuous bi-curious Mr. Workaholic Haha!

And so the rest of the Bank Holiday has passed in a breeze. Apart from Saturday of course - That was great, a chilled out, relaxed but somewhat boring weekend to say the least spent indulging in my love for odd looking comedians and boy bands with long hair that a twenty-something really shouldn't be into. And now it is that I commence my second and final few days without that Cheesey goodness. I have actually been planning our fourth date over the past week and it is coming along splendidly but I shall reveal all in a couple of weeks after we finally go on it as I wouldn't ruin the surprise for you all. Besides, it wont just be the daylight hours I shall be talking about if you know what I mean ... 

'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

Past and Present

Evening Guys,
 
And so this week begins. A week - up until this evening was normal. The weekend to be honest was very uneventful whereby I spent the entire thing lying in my bed only to come out of my self-made 'Lady-Cave' for food and a shower. Sums me up perfectly really.
 
Tonight Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee coming round to have a catch up after I have had my dinner and they have been hiding in a pub round the corner for fear of embarrassing themselves in front of my Dad who has known them for years. Regardless the evening started in good spirit, laughing and joking as we reminisced of the good old days. We talked a little of Mr. Coffee, but not as much as I would have liked given the fact that he is still on my brain.
 
We have arranged a girlie weekend away to Newcastle at the beginning of March and am looking forward to it alot, if a little apprehensious about the the trip to an area of the country that holds such painful and vivid connotations and memories. In the pasted I have visited twice, both times with my Ex - Mr. Workaholic. As well as that we watched YouTube.com videos, discussed fashion and planned our holiday to Majorca (I know - its changed). It has now been booked and paid for ... Shhh - Don't tell Daddy! Playing around on my old and  faithful laptop I stumbled across some photos of us from when we were kids and started to flick. Only when I tried to escape did they catch the folder I had long forgotten contained the first trip abroad I had ever taken. With Mr. Workaholic. And his mother and partner. Tad awkward you could say. Upon closer inspection of the lost archive of photos and memoirs they found the videos that documented the very last days of my relationship with Mr. Workaholic as I knew it. Pawing through the videos I began to see just how blind I was to it all and how much of a good liar he was.
 
Don't get me wrong it wasn't a relationship that ended badly in the sense that there was infidelity or anything, just that he felt there was more out there than me and he wanted to find it all out. Mr. Workaholic had felt like this for a long time apparently and throughout that holiday everything seemed to change and his head started to wonder more than before. The videos were a stark and brutally honest reminder of how things genuinely used to be - Play fights that got out of hand, annoying each other, Mr. Workaholic putting me down or making foul comments, but also laughs and giggles and happiness. There was no playing up to the camera, or exaggerating anything. Just a true and honest relationship that would blossom further as the years rolled by. But that never came to be as in the coming weeks things became clearer to Mr. Workaholic and he decided to call it off in late Spring - nearly a year ago.
 
Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee found the footage amusing and laughable both at my expense and Mr. Workaholic's. I however struggled to hear the voices of a happier time, let alone look at the screen that would clearly display what I lost. Holding back tears and the swelling that was getting bigger in my throat I soldiered on because I knew that my friends wanted to see them. See into a world that was exclusive to us and see what it was like, maybe trying to work out where it all went wrong. They would never admit it but they could see how happy I was with him and how devastated I was having to relive every bit of it just for there enjoyment. I looked at the screen several times and after building up enough courage and immunity to the films I decided to watch the next one in full without turning away. I couldn't. "And here comes my girlfriend..." a friendly voice chirped happily as I appeared on camera. I shut it down as the girls turned to each other and one let out an "Awwh" As we continued through the collection of little home-movies I found it harder. but not as hard as the last few.
 
One of the last clips to play was the hardest. I double-clicked to open it and on came the screen, filled with my face and his. Mr. Workaholic. He kissed my on the cheek. He said "I love you" He cuddled me. I started to crumble. It finished playing and as I looked back at my trusted pals I started to sob. I felt so stupid. Why should I be crying over something that was over nearly a year ago? Comforting words were given and a few apologetic rubs of the arm, mixed in with many bad language to describe Mr. Workaholic's attitude towards me in some of the less upbeat videos. I know they felt bad about forcing me to watch them but I needed to. It will make me stronger and better in the long run. You need to give someone a shot of poison before they get better. After that they swiftly left, not before scarring my mind with an indecent video of young lady trying to digest a sanitary component. They know I hate talking about periods .... Ewwww - even typing makes me feel like throwing up. Just for the record I call that time of the month 'Carrie' as the first 8 minutes of the Hollywood-flick Carrie completely sums how I feel about it up. If you haven't seen it then you need to. YouTube.com it now!
 
I am now sitting on the edge of my bed contemplating the fact that this has opened up a Pandora's box that I never wanted to return to, and now I am, especially after such recent issues as Mr. Coffee, It makes me wonder weather calling the whole thing off with him was a good idea. Mr. Workaholic was nice at times but he was also very mean and degrading to me where as Mr. Coffee is nice and sweet. He is all holding hands and kissing on the cheek. I like that. I like him. Maybe I should do something about it?

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

An Indecisive Making A Decision

Heyy everyone,

So this past week, especially this weekend, has been eventful. You could say that for someone that is so indecisive I have finally made a decision. One though that is both shocking as well as somewhat saddening too.

After spending the Friday night round Miss Tweedle-Dee's house with Miss Tweedle-Dumb too, planning our holiday. We have now decided to head further north into one of the other Spanish islands. I think we have settled on Majorca. Seems lovely wherever it is although slightly history repeating itself since all of our parents have been there as kids around our age. Granted it wasn't called 'Shagaluf' back then but I am sure that we will have all the fun and frolics we did last time we all ended up in a grotty apartment with a tub of Aloe Vera and stinging sunburn. On the Saturday morning, after some arguments regarding travel to do with another acquaintance; we headed onto a local market come car boot sale. With weather conditions suitable for a flock of penguins we trawled around stalls harbouring knock-offs and general tit-tat. Once we had acquired some hot beverages and small donuts we headed back for the car only to have a freak out as we try to navigate out of a friggin' air field. In the afternoon Miss Tweedle-Dumb dropped me off at Mr. Coffee's place as Miss Tweedle-Dee had forgotten her house keys and so we couldn't go back to her abode.

After that my weekend was spent mostly with Mr. Coffee, chatting, watching movies, getting caught having sex in the kitchen by his best friend - who is currently not in a relationship which for me makes this embarrassment all the more worse! Yeah so just the usual really. After much deliberation Mr. Coffee, his friend and I all decided to go out to dinner, after which we all ventured into the local town to have a drink. However after attempting all evening to talk to Mr. Coffee honestly and openly about how I felt and where 'we' were going in our relationship (if you can even call it that) I gave up and continued to drink until it was home-time. That evening we went to bed and had an eventful evening apparently keeping the house up with our antics - not that there was much going on! Sunday Morning I walked with Mr. Coffee to work where I then caught a bus to the Station.

On the journey back home I had alot to think about. The numerous incidents of unfulfilled sex and the seemingly unenthusiastic attitude of his truly were really stressing me out and adding to my already growing frustration. I wanted to tell him all of these things and how they make me feel and how I am scared of another relationship after what happened last time. But I couldn't. I spoke to several friends and then made up my mind to put him straight. I called him and discussed everything, but as usual there was always something that got in the way and eventually I decided to call it off with Mr. Coffee. It was horrible and I hate myself for doing it but I know it was the right thing to do - for now at least.

Hopefully next week will be better.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

The 'L' Word

Hi Guys, Hope you have been keeping well since last week. Sorry I forgot to write last night I had the girls round and we were organising our Summer Holiday this year. So excited to be going back to the same resort as last year. Fuerteventura. Take two!

So the job is going well and I am settling nicely but it would be boring if I just yabbered on throughout this whole post about my job. As you can see from the title things are progressing rather fast in my love life right now. If you can even call it that? So things with the latest Beau are going well, if a little accelerated and that scares me in all honesty. Like I have already said, I don't want to jump head first into things only to find out that there was no water in the pool to begin with - If you follow my drift. 'Mr. Coffee' as he shall be known is sweet and a really nice guy but of course I am petrified of any commitment which is why I refuse to acknowledge the fact that I am starting to develop seriously strong feelings. And like a fine cheese or bottle of wine they will only get stronger. Weather this is a good thing or not is another matter. I am one of those annoying people who falls really quickly and really fast for any guy that shows me attention. I'm not easy, just easily fall for people.

I made a slight boo-boo at the weekend when I stayed over his and accidentally said 'OUR' when referring to the general and yet forward topic of weddings - Oops. Mr. Coffee was very gentlemanly and gracious about it though and we agreed never to talk of the incident again ... Unless it does happen and then we will probably laugh about it in our speeches, but this is just me being a human with a vagina over-thinking things again. Mr. Coffee has also now met my parents and I can honestly say that they like him. He came round for tea and whilst discussing subjects of common ground and interest between the two of us I had a few odd looks from both my seniors as if to say 'Well you two are meant to be together!' Comments of which I smiled shyly and continued to shovel Chicken Korma into my face-hole which I detested very much.

All in all I think we have a lot in common. He is good for me and makes me happy and all, I just don't know if the 'L' word will ever escape from my lips again. Especially after last time. He is not Brad Pitt and he doesn't really have much going on but I like him and regardless of his abnormally hairy back, quirky ways and inability sometimes to have grown up since we were in high school together - I am going to try to make it work this time. I know not all my friends approve but I hope that in time they'll realise just how nice and good he is for me.

Anyway must dash, got dinner on the table.

‘Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Welcome

OK. So firstly welcome to my blog and the first post of the new year. It is January the fist and like many other people across the country I have made a few new year resolutions for 2013. I firstly thought that maybe getting a job might be a good idea and then on Christmas eve I had a phone call from a interview I had earlier in the week and was told that the job was mine. So now I am a working women as an administrator and general clerical assistant for a local flooring company. I start tomorrow. Find a job. Tick!

Next on my new years resolutions list is to loose some chunk. I am not a BBW as they would say in the industry but I am not a skinny french fry either I like to class myself as a 'normal' sized women and enjoy flaunting the fact that I'm not a twig. But yes I think that I could do with some toning up and slimming down. At some point as well during the new year, I want to move out of my parents place and into an abode of my own. My friends have already started buying me things for my new pad and I cant wait to finally have a place to call and make home. Once I have my own place I want to purchase a little French bulldog puppy. I have no name ideas as yet but I kinda wanna keep it French but would be grateful for any suggestions.

On another one of my many growing plus points so far this year is a possible blossoming 'thing'. I don't want to divulge too much as I don't want to spoil something before it has even happened. He is a childhood sweetheart and we re-kindled our friendship just before Christmas last year. He is very sweet and extremely overprotective, which is an odd experience for an independent and self-sufficient young lady such as myself. We are planning a few dates and I really do enjoy spending time with him but I want to take it slow and not end up in he same train wreck that I did last time I said the 'L' word and fell head over heels for someone. Slow and steady won the race said the tortoise.

And so now I shall make like the tortoise and sign off for the evening. After the night I had last night I think I need a well deserved bath and a catch up with my telly.

'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx