Hello,
So I now have a nine-month-old ... Puppy that is. It has only been in the last few weeks that I have really appreciated the fact that whilst our (OK my) little Frankenstein is pretty much a teenager, he is still a baby really.
Puppy ownership has really been a handful from the early days of limited sleep and constant cuddles to monthly flea, worm and tick treatment at the Vets and even a big decision as to snip or not to snip which I wrote about in the blog post where I told of "The Day Frankenstein Got His Stitches" it certainly has been an adventure. Ever since I knew I was going to have a little boy, I knew that I would have to face this question and I think in hindsight it was the best for him as has both calmed him down (at least a tiny bit) and taken a fair amount of testosterone out of his system which could have made him aggressive and not pleasant to be around.
One of the things I think both Mr Warehouse and I struggled with though was the early mornings. Frankenstein simply couldn't sleep in and refused to let us do the same. we could have been up until 4-in-the-morning and still, the pup would have woken at 6am. Frustratingly, even as he got older he never grew out of it. One minute I was dreamily gazing out of the window at the setting sun awaiting my new fluffy arrival and the next I was sat listening to him cry and winge as we try and attempt one of the hardest things about puppy ownership - Training. In his first few weeks (which then stretched into months) our little Frankenstein (made by mistake and pieced together from two different breeds of dog - Jack Russell Terrier and Toy Poodle) has been somewhat of a little horror. I was not sure in the beginning of it was just a new environment or that he missed his mom and siblings or if it was separation anxiety but I knew that whilst his time alone is arduous, I look at other owners we know and what some of their animals get up to and I am glad we don't have it that bad!
A quick Google of Dog Separation Anxiety come up with hundreds of helpful pages with useful tips, tricks and hints on how to have a happier pup! One website, in particular, I have referenced for a bit of help has been PetMD which was helpful however didn't allow us any more sleep or lay-ins than before. With time ticking on we attempted the whole night time routine over and over and over again but nothing seemed to work. That was until Halloween!
With Miss JoHo and Miss Tweedle-Dee staying in the spare room and me tucked up in bed with "The Bowl" by my bedside, Mr Warehouse had little choice but to have the dogs sleep in with us for the night, somewhere he could keep an eye on me and them. It also meant our friends wouldn't be disturbed by puppies early morning war cries. However, the following day, after the decorations had gone away and our heads had been nursed, I noted to Mr Warehouse that our puppy seemed less needy and "into us" than before. Mr Warehouse had suggested that because he had slept in with us the night before, maybe he didn't feel like he needed our attention all-day long. It was a fair point and pup even seemed to listen more, being more receptive to commands and training. So when it became time for bed that night I suggested just letting him choose where to sleep, leaving the door open to his crate downstairs and leaving the hallway and landing free to roam, we let him sleep where ever he liked. And it seemed to work.
Looking online, you can find loads of information that is both negative and positive when talking about co-sleeping with your dog but from what I have read and also talked to fellow dog-moms and dog-dads is that this can also ease anxiety, providing a feeling of safety and security, especially for smaller dogs or lap breeds. One blog I came across describes that when it comes to sleeping with your dog, there are many benefits to sharing your sleeping space and that by allowing them to sleep on your bed has a different meaning for you and your fur-baby. For you, it can be a way to snuggle. For your dog, it’s an important bonding experience, something which I never really thought about before.
Not for me (as I have my stunning Fiance by my bedside) however for some people having their pup sleep alongside them helps not only with the dog feeling secure, but also the person themselves, especially if they live alone or have nightmares. If there are any noises or disturbances, your pup can always alert you first and maybe even protect you should the moment come to it. Plus, having a furry friend to share the sheets with can always be comforting when the nights get cooler.
One of the other things that Furbo.com's "12 Benefits of sleeping with your dog" is that when your dog sleeps in your bed, separation anxiety they feel during the day is soothed. If you work long hours, being able to share time at night can help you support your dog and make them feel less distressed. This is again something which up until writing this now I hadn't correlated the two - him having my attention and closeness at night and not needing it throughout the day and barking excessively. I suppose if you were such a way as well that having your dog alongside you at night could be very calming and have a positive effect on your well-being, mental health and even reduce your own anxiety. Another reason in the pro-sleepover camp is that if you suffer from insomnia it can help, although if it is my dogs, older one included, then maybe not as they just see you laying there asleep as a human trampoline.
This being said the website doesn't come with its own caveat and warns that while there are many benefits to sleeping in the same bed as your dog, there are also some disadvantages. If your dog isn't fully trained, you don't want a situation where accidents happen. In addition, if you have allergies or a new dog, you may want to proceed with caution. Another website I stumbled across was Tuck.com, who went through some of the risks carried when sleeping with a small and furry bed-fellow. They explain that "Even if you’re not allergic to your pet, they spend more time outside interacting with things us humans take care to avoid, which could otherwise interfere with your health."
Let's face it, pets aren’t exactly clean, but if you keep your pet up to date on vaccinations and flea medication and they’re otherwise healthy, you should be fine to sleep with them. However, the website does warn you that sharing a bed with your pet can be as dangerous as face licking or kissing for transmission of zoonotic diseases, including plague, meningitis, and parasites. Now, of course, this is very rare, but if you’ve been bitten by fleas or have broken skin, and your dogs are infested, your risk is higher.
Obviously, it goes without saying that spending time together in a quiet setting like the bedroom, away from hustle and bustle and distractions it helps you get closer to one another. Dogs are pack animals and will often sleep together in a puppy pile when they can, so why not try it with your pooch. Of course each to their own, however, if you could put up with a few moments of restlessness or the odd night of broken sleep and you can maintain the intimacy and connection as a couple (if you are one - sorry Singletons) then go for it.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Separation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Separation. Show all posts
Monday, 25 November 2019
Monday, 13 June 2016
Getting Back On The Horse!
Hello one and all,
So after the debacle of last week I am slightly feeling better although I am fully aware that my Cystitis is still raging my downstairs mix-up and creating more hassle than its worth. I have the day off tomorrow though so I am hoping now my course of Antibiotics have finished I can go back and they can finally get to the bottom of why this is such a chronic issue for me. As another week has come and gone, yet another drama unfolds. Would it surprise you in the slightest if I told you that my absolutely lovely Mr. Warehouse has yet another job. Yes. I know.
Meeting me after work on Tuesday en route to my second job I saw a solomn face that said something was wrong. Worried Mr. Warehouse was about to put us right back to square one, I asked why the long face. He explained that after finishing his job that afternoon and despite being told that he would be needed all week at the Steelworks, he had been told on Tuesday afternoon as he finished that his services were not required tomorrow and that they would be in touch if and when they did need him. Heart sinking and feeling the all too familiar now sickness return to the back of my throat I swallowed the anger and resentment and told him I loved him. "It would get better, wouldn't it?" I soothed myself. "I mean it has to right? Can't get much worse - Can it?"
"Come on then, be honest, there must be a reason why they would give everyone else work and not you. Just tell me. I wont be angry. I promise." I asked my beloved other-half.
"I don't know. I really don't have a clue." He replied, puzzled. "Unless it was the fact that some women asked me to cut two-hundred-and-forty sheets of Steel and I cut two-hundred-and-forty-three as otherwise there would have been a lot of excess waste."
Disappointed I tried to hide it as I said to him that he needs to listen carefully to instructions and follow them by the book exactly or this will keep happening.
"If this women has asked for two-hundred-and-forty sheets of metal cut into heart-shaped dildo's then she wants two-hundred-and-forty sheets of metal cut into heart-shaped dildo's! If she wants them rammed up her arse - She wants them rammed up her arse, no questions asked." I said trying to be empathetic although lacking slightly through frustration and anger.
Arriving into town, we departed the bus and headed towards the call centre. After making several phone calls to the agencies in town that were still open with no luck I had said it would be a good idea to come with me to my place of work and enquire if they were still hiring as they may have been able to interview him there and then on the spot. Although Mr. Warehouse clearly had other ideas as he kissed me on the cheek and headed for the bus back home to the flat.
"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.
"I'm going home. I can't do this right now. I'm so sick and tired of this!" Mr. Warehouse flippantly said, unaware at just how close I was to boiling point.
"What, and you really think I enjoy going to work every single evening at a call centre I am not even reaping the rewards from?" I simmered, although cooling myself enough to convince him to come with me and give it a go.
No more than a few steps into our ten-minute walk to the call centre I heard moaning.
"Well its not like you support me anyway is it?" Mr. Warehouse snapped. And with that phrase, so did I. Launching into Defcon-10, I ranted about how much love and support I have tried to muster over the last few weeks, all in the knowledge that my wages alone couldn't support us, especially not when we have a wedding to go to this weekend which we have barely anything saved for and my annual summer holiday with the girls which I again barely have a two-cent coin to run together let alone any spending money for Euros. Rant continuing after Mr. Warehouse had explained that 'its not what I meant - I meant financially' sent me into overdrive and I launched even further stating that given another week or two and it would be yours truly picking up his credit card bill and all other manor of bills he has.
Boil over I arrived at work and sat on the wall outside looking into the storm in the distance. It began to rain. I thought about how it would ever get better if there is no motivation, confidence or skill to be had. I couldn't keep doing this. Was this it? Was this how it was all going to end? Would I be in a fortnight or so's time asking Mr. Warehouse to move out and calling an end to our relationship? What about all those horrible dates on Tinder? Who would I have pillow fights with at four-in-the-afternoon or tickle before I go to sleep?
Worried I went to work and returned home in a zombie like state, going about the motions until it was time for bed. Someone was hungry but all I could think about was the fact that my boyfriend was yet again unemployed and in that very moment I could feel myself detach from him slightly and a little light in me went out. Scared for our future together and what may be round the next corner I struggled to sleep as the stiffness of an angry-jobless penis stuffed into my lower back, its owner oblivious to how it felt to be skewered like a shish kebab.
The following morning I got dressed and ready for work, sighing as I looked at my sleeping Beau, only to feel the same as the night before. Grey. Leaving the house I was hopeful that something would come up, but all in the knowledge that the Xbox was still on standby. But I need not have worried so much, for by the time I sat down at my desk with my breakfast and morning coffee I had a email. It was Mr. Warehouse. He had a phone-call from the Agency and they had asked him to come it to do a drugs test as they may have got him a placement for a Temp-Perm contract at a Pharmaceuticals company. The same Pharmaceuticals company my doting father works at. Nervous and worried he wouldn't pass I encouraged him to be honest with them as to what he had taken medication wise in the last four-weeks and just get down to their town-centre offices to do the test.
Couple of hours later I had the phone-call I had been waiting for.
"I start tomorrow" Mr. Warehouse said down the phone in an excited and yet relieved tone. I was so proud of him. He had passed all his Math, English and Drugs test with flying colours and was now a fully fledged member of the temporary team working the daytime shift, aptly named 'The Golden Ticket' as it starts at 7am and your finished by 3pm - Perfect for parents, second-jobbers and lazy-bums alike. And with picking and packing it shouldn't be the hardest thing my little employee has had to do. I was absolutely over-the-moon for him and so was everyone around me, for I had turned into such a stress-head when Mr. Warehouse didn't have a job.
Now sure, money would be tight, and will be at least for a few weeks until we are back from the wedding in Newquay. I still have no idea how we are going to pay for everything, but I am sure we will manage. What was that old nineteen-fifties saying I swear by: Make Do and Mend? Well I have made a couple of the wedding gifts and I have mended some bits and pieces together so hopefully we can still have a lovely time, just on a bit of a budget. I have numerous vouchers, discount codes and coupons clipped and stored away for meals out and cheap and cheerful days out. A combination of Sea Safari's, Aquariums, Long Beach Walk and Pirate Museums have me very excited to visit Cornwall - I have even convinced Mr. Warehouse to come horse-riding with me.
In all honesty I am actually really looking forward to going away with Mr. Warehouse who I am still proud to call my boyfriend. He may be a pain in the arse sometimes and we may row every now and again, but who doesn't. Here's hoping that Newquay will be just the break to rekindle our love for each other and that I can get back that little light that went out. I just hope he really see's just how much I have done for us and just how close to the edge we were from falling.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after the debacle of last week I am slightly feeling better although I am fully aware that my Cystitis is still raging my downstairs mix-up and creating more hassle than its worth. I have the day off tomorrow though so I am hoping now my course of Antibiotics have finished I can go back and they can finally get to the bottom of why this is such a chronic issue for me. As another week has come and gone, yet another drama unfolds. Would it surprise you in the slightest if I told you that my absolutely lovely Mr. Warehouse has yet another job. Yes. I know.
Meeting me after work on Tuesday en route to my second job I saw a solomn face that said something was wrong. Worried Mr. Warehouse was about to put us right back to square one, I asked why the long face. He explained that after finishing his job that afternoon and despite being told that he would be needed all week at the Steelworks, he had been told on Tuesday afternoon as he finished that his services were not required tomorrow and that they would be in touch if and when they did need him. Heart sinking and feeling the all too familiar now sickness return to the back of my throat I swallowed the anger and resentment and told him I loved him. "It would get better, wouldn't it?" I soothed myself. "I mean it has to right? Can't get much worse - Can it?"
"Come on then, be honest, there must be a reason why they would give everyone else work and not you. Just tell me. I wont be angry. I promise." I asked my beloved other-half.
"I don't know. I really don't have a clue." He replied, puzzled. "Unless it was the fact that some women asked me to cut two-hundred-and-forty sheets of Steel and I cut two-hundred-and-forty-three as otherwise there would have been a lot of excess waste."
Disappointed I tried to hide it as I said to him that he needs to listen carefully to instructions and follow them by the book exactly or this will keep happening.
"If this women has asked for two-hundred-and-forty sheets of metal cut into heart-shaped dildo's then she wants two-hundred-and-forty sheets of metal cut into heart-shaped dildo's! If she wants them rammed up her arse - She wants them rammed up her arse, no questions asked." I said trying to be empathetic although lacking slightly through frustration and anger.
Arriving into town, we departed the bus and headed towards the call centre. After making several phone calls to the agencies in town that were still open with no luck I had said it would be a good idea to come with me to my place of work and enquire if they were still hiring as they may have been able to interview him there and then on the spot. Although Mr. Warehouse clearly had other ideas as he kissed me on the cheek and headed for the bus back home to the flat.
"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.
"I'm going home. I can't do this right now. I'm so sick and tired of this!" Mr. Warehouse flippantly said, unaware at just how close I was to boiling point.
"What, and you really think I enjoy going to work every single evening at a call centre I am not even reaping the rewards from?" I simmered, although cooling myself enough to convince him to come with me and give it a go.
No more than a few steps into our ten-minute walk to the call centre I heard moaning.
"Well its not like you support me anyway is it?" Mr. Warehouse snapped. And with that phrase, so did I. Launching into Defcon-10, I ranted about how much love and support I have tried to muster over the last few weeks, all in the knowledge that my wages alone couldn't support us, especially not when we have a wedding to go to this weekend which we have barely anything saved for and my annual summer holiday with the girls which I again barely have a two-cent coin to run together let alone any spending money for Euros. Rant continuing after Mr. Warehouse had explained that 'its not what I meant - I meant financially' sent me into overdrive and I launched even further stating that given another week or two and it would be yours truly picking up his credit card bill and all other manor of bills he has.
Boil over I arrived at work and sat on the wall outside looking into the storm in the distance. It began to rain. I thought about how it would ever get better if there is no motivation, confidence or skill to be had. I couldn't keep doing this. Was this it? Was this how it was all going to end? Would I be in a fortnight or so's time asking Mr. Warehouse to move out and calling an end to our relationship? What about all those horrible dates on Tinder? Who would I have pillow fights with at four-in-the-afternoon or tickle before I go to sleep?
Worried I went to work and returned home in a zombie like state, going about the motions until it was time for bed. Someone was hungry but all I could think about was the fact that my boyfriend was yet again unemployed and in that very moment I could feel myself detach from him slightly and a little light in me went out. Scared for our future together and what may be round the next corner I struggled to sleep as the stiffness of an angry-jobless penis stuffed into my lower back, its owner oblivious to how it felt to be skewered like a shish kebab.
The following morning I got dressed and ready for work, sighing as I looked at my sleeping Beau, only to feel the same as the night before. Grey. Leaving the house I was hopeful that something would come up, but all in the knowledge that the Xbox was still on standby. But I need not have worried so much, for by the time I sat down at my desk with my breakfast and morning coffee I had a email. It was Mr. Warehouse. He had a phone-call from the Agency and they had asked him to come it to do a drugs test as they may have got him a placement for a Temp-Perm contract at a Pharmaceuticals company. The same Pharmaceuticals company my doting father works at. Nervous and worried he wouldn't pass I encouraged him to be honest with them as to what he had taken medication wise in the last four-weeks and just get down to their town-centre offices to do the test.
Couple of hours later I had the phone-call I had been waiting for.
"I start tomorrow" Mr. Warehouse said down the phone in an excited and yet relieved tone. I was so proud of him. He had passed all his Math, English and Drugs test with flying colours and was now a fully fledged member of the temporary team working the daytime shift, aptly named 'The Golden Ticket' as it starts at 7am and your finished by 3pm - Perfect for parents, second-jobbers and lazy-bums alike. And with picking and packing it shouldn't be the hardest thing my little employee has had to do. I was absolutely over-the-moon for him and so was everyone around me, for I had turned into such a stress-head when Mr. Warehouse didn't have a job.
Now sure, money would be tight, and will be at least for a few weeks until we are back from the wedding in Newquay. I still have no idea how we are going to pay for everything, but I am sure we will manage. What was that old nineteen-fifties saying I swear by: Make Do and Mend? Well I have made a couple of the wedding gifts and I have mended some bits and pieces together so hopefully we can still have a lovely time, just on a bit of a budget. I have numerous vouchers, discount codes and coupons clipped and stored away for meals out and cheap and cheerful days out. A combination of Sea Safari's, Aquariums, Long Beach Walk and Pirate Museums have me very excited to visit Cornwall - I have even convinced Mr. Warehouse to come horse-riding with me.
In all honesty I am actually really looking forward to going away with Mr. Warehouse who I am still proud to call my boyfriend. He may be a pain in the arse sometimes and we may row every now and again, but who doesn't. Here's hoping that Newquay will be just the break to rekindle our love for each other and that I can get back that little light that went out. I just hope he really see's just how much I have done for us and just how close to the edge we were from falling.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 16 June 2014
Holding On ...
Bloggers Note: I have recently decided to start a thing going whereby if you yourself have a 'Trial or Tribulation' that I can help with then feel free to drop me a free and fully confidential message by popping it on a mini form in the right-hand sidebar or email me at: Abbbey4@gmail.com. Also If you have any ideas on how to make me sound or look more interesting then just do the same! :) xx
Evening One and All,
Sat on the hard wooden chair it was crunch time. Purple walls reflected my inner emotions; a mixture of what used to be clear, colourful feelings. Now they were muddled and confused. On the one hand I could sympathise and understand fully what my best friends were doing and why they were doing it. On the other I knew better than anyone how my relationship was, how Mr. Cheese made me feel and ultimately what made it tick. The question was though - Is it still ticking?
So pending the somewhat flop of last weekend away with Mr. Cheese I have been struggling yet again with my emotions surrounding the situation I have now found myself. Sat in Miss Tweedle-Dee's lilac dining room I felt as if I was at an intervention. No, I was addicted to drugs. Neither was I addicted to alcohol. No. It was because of my poor relationship that I was here and that the only thing I was addicted to was love; Or at least the idea of it anyway. With my good-cop/bad-cop roles forming in my head I desperately tried in vain to avoid answering questions from Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. With no success I said I needed time to think about what needed to happen following the weekend that I had with Mr. Cheese and as to how I (or maybe we) were going to make things better and get them back on track. I have indeed tried not to dwell too much on the mini-break away to Bristol with my boyfriend however it is hard to see what good moments we shared when one night had ended in tears for at least one of us. I wont wholly bash the holiday entirely as that obviously wouldn't be fair, but I think what is correct to say is that for one reason or another, things are no where near as rosey as they once were only a fortnight ago. And as a result of last weeks post and a few brief chat's with both of my Tweedles I have come to the conclusion that maybe this is the 'compter de la fin'.
The thing is that even from the very beginning I knew this was going to be hard work. The fact that Mr. Cheese and I are both damaged good from previous relationships-gone-wrong, coupled with the normal everyday strains of a long distance relationship doesn't help. It is a tough one as there is so much that is good and righteous with our relationship. For starters his family are just blindingly brilliant in every way. Momma Cheese is what I one day hope to aspire too. She is kind and caring, completely ditzy and reminds me totally of myself at times. Pappa Cheese is much the same, the head of the family and always one to compliment me on how funny I always find him, despite the rest of the clan wanting to die with embarrassment. The two younger brothers are hilarious and are always on hand with some lively banter and a good story or two. The oldest brother I have not yet spent enough time with him to comment entirely on although I hoped that it would have been more. Mr. Cheese's grandparents are again funny in their own little ways and are just wonderful old people through and through. I wouldn't have a bad word to say about any of them at all, even if I tried. It is just utterly heartbreaking to know that they might not be playing centre stage in my life for much longer.
My heart is pounding as I write just thinking about the demise of The Cheese. A saga lost to what? Not enough affection? Lack of attention? Loss of passion? A deficiency in lustful convictions? But even as I sit here as I have done for the past week and wonder how or when I shall end it I know I don't want it too. I care for my boyfriend very much. I even have gone as far as to say that I love him which is a monumental thing to say to someone when you have loved and lost to the highest degree before. We have a laugh, albeit a grown-up one the majority of the time. We bounce off each other and enjoy the companionship and friendship more than anything. However, maybe that is the issue. Maybe I am only but a friend to my dear Mr. Cheese. I hope I'm not but I am clinging onto straws in order to differentiate between me and some of his other female friends. The majority of people would say sex, and yes, in all essence of the phrasing it is but love-making is never as high on Mr. Cheese's agenda as it is on mine, that is clear from the weekend recently experienced. After such a long time of wondering if it is me or not I am starting to think that it is far from my fault things are failing in the bedroom department. I have tried everything from suspenders to football shirts, corsets to flavoured condoms and even switching up the moves and gears but nothing seems to make the difference. Now I know I'm not a Victoria Secrets model but I used to feel confident within myself and my body. Somewhere along this journey I have lost that.
I love Mr. Cheese to pieces but I know that from a relationship I need it to forthcoming and fun and energetic and lively and exciting. Right now I feel unattractive, under-valued, unloved and unwanted. As soon as my boyfriend of nearly a year are alone together, he fails to respond to my gestures of love-making. He doesn't want to rip off my clothes or touch me up in all the wrong places. As a girlfriend it is my duty equal to that of my partner to initiate sex, but I constantly find myself on top and asking the question ''Do you want to have sex with me?''. Sometimes I just want to scream with frustration at the lack of sex drive he has. I don't want to ask the question but I am increasingly fighting the urge to get him to see someone specialist to see if there is anything wrong biologically that makes his sex drive so low or as a reverse why mine is so high? It is not that when Mr. Cheese and I have sex that it is bad sex. Far from it. When we do finally get to that moment in time where my boyfriend (in my head at least) finds me even mildly attractive that he wants to engage in the ultimate submission of love, it is fantastic. Fireworks, breathy sweet nothings and squeals of pleasure are all exerted with passion and heat and intimacy. Its just that for me it is not enough and when you only see each other on the weekends in between juggling friends, family, career and home-life it's hard but I still can't fathom why, even after ten-months, we are still not at it like rabbits on heat.
Maybe it's the distance? I have always said to myself I would never purposefully engage in a relationship that took me further than the neighbouring counties boarders, but falling for Mr. Cheese was not something I planned and nor did I initially want. I don't want to break it off with Mr. Cheese. I feel like we have both made such an effort to try and make it work, myself mainly. I just don't know how much longer I can keep my head above water. It's almost as if I have developed a catch-phrase for every time something goes wrong simply concluding every issue with 'it'll get better'. I'm just not sure that better is coming. Maybe I am right. Maybe when football season is over things will improve? Maybe when Mr. Cheese moves back to the 'Shire in a few weeks time it will improve? Maybe when Mr. Cheese returned from Ghana in the winter things will improve? Question is will we even last as a two-some until Mr. Cheese's African adventure in September and if we do will I exists after?
Meeting outside Farringdon Station in London on Saturday night I was dressed to the nines and ready to cheer on the England boys playing against Italy in Brazil for the World Cup 2014. Freezing I waited for Mr. Cheese to arrive so we could meet some of his friends in a local bar. Arriving I saw that look again where he almost looked proud to have me on his arm. With my legs and breast meat on show that night I thought I would pull out all the stops in the attempt of fixing the problems of the Saturday beforehand. Trying to talk to him honestly about my feelings whilst pacing round the cobbles of The Big Smoke nearly getting lost and running out of time before kick-off was not how I pictured this to be. It seemed though that Mr. Cheese is reluctant to discuss any of this with me at all. Finally we arrived outside the pub. Stopping in the street I asked him simply not to make me cry again and to only love me and keep me happy. A simple request that by the end of the weekend would yet again be left in tatters. After having his best friend stay at the flat after the game had ended we didn't have any time alone to talk in depth about the problems that were constantly present. The following morning en route to breakfast with the Cheese Family just off of London's Oxford Street I attempted again to bring it up. Failing to see the importance of such a discussion and the perils that lye with not attending to such issues I was shrugged off and only to be told that "this was not the weekend to discuss it". Feeling hurt, deflated and utterly devastated I did what I always do best and put on a brave face and smiled for the camera's as we entered the restaurant for Eggs Royale and Americano's with the family. As I sat round the table it was as if I was hiding a hideously deplorable secret. I thought to myself sharing bread with one of his brothers and laughing with his Mom that this may well be the last time I see them again. I never thought it would but I felt a physical twist in my heart and I had to take another sip of my coffee to steady myself. It hurt. It really hurt.
All these things I have to take into consideration. The family. The separation from one another. The distance. The hope that it may get better. Yet again everything is swirling round in my head like a heavy night out and trip to the local kebab shop. I hate feeling like this. I shouldn't feel like this. But I do. It seems that this has been said so many times that I'm not sure if it matters anymore? There just is no fight there from him - To fight for us, for our relationship. I hesitate to think about how any relationship involving two 22-year-old's should be like this, especially in the short time we have been dating. Its stale. Not out of date yet but definitely stale.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Evening One and All,
Sat on the hard wooden chair it was crunch time. Purple walls reflected my inner emotions; a mixture of what used to be clear, colourful feelings. Now they were muddled and confused. On the one hand I could sympathise and understand fully what my best friends were doing and why they were doing it. On the other I knew better than anyone how my relationship was, how Mr. Cheese made me feel and ultimately what made it tick. The question was though - Is it still ticking?
So pending the somewhat flop of last weekend away with Mr. Cheese I have been struggling yet again with my emotions surrounding the situation I have now found myself. Sat in Miss Tweedle-Dee's lilac dining room I felt as if I was at an intervention. No, I was addicted to drugs. Neither was I addicted to alcohol. No. It was because of my poor relationship that I was here and that the only thing I was addicted to was love; Or at least the idea of it anyway. With my good-cop/bad-cop roles forming in my head I desperately tried in vain to avoid answering questions from Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. With no success I said I needed time to think about what needed to happen following the weekend that I had with Mr. Cheese and as to how I (or maybe we) were going to make things better and get them back on track. I have indeed tried not to dwell too much on the mini-break away to Bristol with my boyfriend however it is hard to see what good moments we shared when one night had ended in tears for at least one of us. I wont wholly bash the holiday entirely as that obviously wouldn't be fair, but I think what is correct to say is that for one reason or another, things are no where near as rosey as they once were only a fortnight ago. And as a result of last weeks post and a few brief chat's with both of my Tweedles I have come to the conclusion that maybe this is the 'compter de la fin'.
The thing is that even from the very beginning I knew this was going to be hard work. The fact that Mr. Cheese and I are both damaged good from previous relationships-gone-wrong, coupled with the normal everyday strains of a long distance relationship doesn't help. It is a tough one as there is so much that is good and righteous with our relationship. For starters his family are just blindingly brilliant in every way. Momma Cheese is what I one day hope to aspire too. She is kind and caring, completely ditzy and reminds me totally of myself at times. Pappa Cheese is much the same, the head of the family and always one to compliment me on how funny I always find him, despite the rest of the clan wanting to die with embarrassment. The two younger brothers are hilarious and are always on hand with some lively banter and a good story or two. The oldest brother I have not yet spent enough time with him to comment entirely on although I hoped that it would have been more. Mr. Cheese's grandparents are again funny in their own little ways and are just wonderful old people through and through. I wouldn't have a bad word to say about any of them at all, even if I tried. It is just utterly heartbreaking to know that they might not be playing centre stage in my life for much longer.
My heart is pounding as I write just thinking about the demise of The Cheese. A saga lost to what? Not enough affection? Lack of attention? Loss of passion? A deficiency in lustful convictions? But even as I sit here as I have done for the past week and wonder how or when I shall end it I know I don't want it too. I care for my boyfriend very much. I even have gone as far as to say that I love him which is a monumental thing to say to someone when you have loved and lost to the highest degree before. We have a laugh, albeit a grown-up one the majority of the time. We bounce off each other and enjoy the companionship and friendship more than anything. However, maybe that is the issue. Maybe I am only but a friend to my dear Mr. Cheese. I hope I'm not but I am clinging onto straws in order to differentiate between me and some of his other female friends. The majority of people would say sex, and yes, in all essence of the phrasing it is but love-making is never as high on Mr. Cheese's agenda as it is on mine, that is clear from the weekend recently experienced. After such a long time of wondering if it is me or not I am starting to think that it is far from my fault things are failing in the bedroom department. I have tried everything from suspenders to football shirts, corsets to flavoured condoms and even switching up the moves and gears but nothing seems to make the difference. Now I know I'm not a Victoria Secrets model but I used to feel confident within myself and my body. Somewhere along this journey I have lost that.
I love Mr. Cheese to pieces but I know that from a relationship I need it to forthcoming and fun and energetic and lively and exciting. Right now I feel unattractive, under-valued, unloved and unwanted. As soon as my boyfriend of nearly a year are alone together, he fails to respond to my gestures of love-making. He doesn't want to rip off my clothes or touch me up in all the wrong places. As a girlfriend it is my duty equal to that of my partner to initiate sex, but I constantly find myself on top and asking the question ''Do you want to have sex with me?''. Sometimes I just want to scream with frustration at the lack of sex drive he has. I don't want to ask the question but I am increasingly fighting the urge to get him to see someone specialist to see if there is anything wrong biologically that makes his sex drive so low or as a reverse why mine is so high? It is not that when Mr. Cheese and I have sex that it is bad sex. Far from it. When we do finally get to that moment in time where my boyfriend (in my head at least) finds me even mildly attractive that he wants to engage in the ultimate submission of love, it is fantastic. Fireworks, breathy sweet nothings and squeals of pleasure are all exerted with passion and heat and intimacy. Its just that for me it is not enough and when you only see each other on the weekends in between juggling friends, family, career and home-life it's hard but I still can't fathom why, even after ten-months, we are still not at it like rabbits on heat.
Maybe it's the distance? I have always said to myself I would never purposefully engage in a relationship that took me further than the neighbouring counties boarders, but falling for Mr. Cheese was not something I planned and nor did I initially want. I don't want to break it off with Mr. Cheese. I feel like we have both made such an effort to try and make it work, myself mainly. I just don't know how much longer I can keep my head above water. It's almost as if I have developed a catch-phrase for every time something goes wrong simply concluding every issue with 'it'll get better'. I'm just not sure that better is coming. Maybe I am right. Maybe when football season is over things will improve? Maybe when Mr. Cheese moves back to the 'Shire in a few weeks time it will improve? Maybe when Mr. Cheese returned from Ghana in the winter things will improve? Question is will we even last as a two-some until Mr. Cheese's African adventure in September and if we do will I exists after?
Meeting outside Farringdon Station in London on Saturday night I was dressed to the nines and ready to cheer on the England boys playing against Italy in Brazil for the World Cup 2014. Freezing I waited for Mr. Cheese to arrive so we could meet some of his friends in a local bar. Arriving I saw that look again where he almost looked proud to have me on his arm. With my legs and breast meat on show that night I thought I would pull out all the stops in the attempt of fixing the problems of the Saturday beforehand. Trying to talk to him honestly about my feelings whilst pacing round the cobbles of The Big Smoke nearly getting lost and running out of time before kick-off was not how I pictured this to be. It seemed though that Mr. Cheese is reluctant to discuss any of this with me at all. Finally we arrived outside the pub. Stopping in the street I asked him simply not to make me cry again and to only love me and keep me happy. A simple request that by the end of the weekend would yet again be left in tatters. After having his best friend stay at the flat after the game had ended we didn't have any time alone to talk in depth about the problems that were constantly present. The following morning en route to breakfast with the Cheese Family just off of London's Oxford Street I attempted again to bring it up. Failing to see the importance of such a discussion and the perils that lye with not attending to such issues I was shrugged off and only to be told that "this was not the weekend to discuss it". Feeling hurt, deflated and utterly devastated I did what I always do best and put on a brave face and smiled for the camera's as we entered the restaurant for Eggs Royale and Americano's with the family. As I sat round the table it was as if I was hiding a hideously deplorable secret. I thought to myself sharing bread with one of his brothers and laughing with his Mom that this may well be the last time I see them again. I never thought it would but I felt a physical twist in my heart and I had to take another sip of my coffee to steady myself. It hurt. It really hurt.
All these things I have to take into consideration. The family. The separation from one another. The distance. The hope that it may get better. Yet again everything is swirling round in my head like a heavy night out and trip to the local kebab shop. I hate feeling like this. I shouldn't feel like this. But I do. It seems that this has been said so many times that I'm not sure if it matters anymore? There just is no fight there from him - To fight for us, for our relationship. I hesitate to think about how any relationship involving two 22-year-old's should be like this, especially in the short time we have been dating. Its stale. Not out of date yet but definitely stale.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)