Showing posts with label Silly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Silly. Show all posts
Monday, 18 May 2020
Monday, 28 April 2014
Silly Head and A Silly Phone Call ...
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 :) xx
Evening Everybody,
So after last week was spent indulging in a wonderfully prepared duck dinner from Mr. Cheese, a spot of golf and the seaside I was glad to only have a few days left of being officially unemployed before starting my new job. However relaxing was to be brought to a crash landing when on Wednesday last week I had my morning interrupted by a phone call quite literally out of the blue. Answering the withheld number, anticipating it being something to do with work or maybe a call centre about blasted PPI again I listened for an answer to my 'Hello'. Nothing came. I gestured again. Still nothing. Just as I went to hang up I heard muffling and thinking it was just a soggy line form an Indian call centre I reattached my phone to my ear and listened. What crept into my ear was the sound of my mother's voice.
"I know you can hear me" she said in a slow and deep tone. I loathed it already. Completely shocked and stunned like a rabbit in the headlights of an on coming car I froze, taken aback to darker times as a young teenager. After introducing herself once more she proceeded to make pointless small talk. When I came to ask the question as to why I was encountering with such a phone call I was met by a surprising tale. Apparently someone had told my mother through the grape vine that things were not great for me, that I had been through a trauma and wasn't doing too well. Ha! The thought that something such as being unemployed or possibly being struck down with Influenza was of concern to my mother was somewhat odd, especially given the circumstances that many a time before I had been in a far worse place, often at her own doing and she did not seem to take an interest in my well-being then. So why now? I don't know and to be honest I don't really care. I made polite conversation although I was unable to hide in my voice that I was sceptical and suspicious of such a communication. At least with an email or letter I could bin it. 'How do I get out of this?' I thought to myself as I struggled to deal with the situation. Luckily I didn't have to think for long as after again more irrelevant and trivial chit-chat the conversation was terminated by myself making excuses that I had stuff to do and ending it there.
One comment did stick out to me though and that was more-so the reaction I felt rather than the comment itself. I suppose in an attempt to show feelings other than hate and poison she exclaimed how the previous evening she had dreamt about me as a small girl in denim dungaree's with buttons. I could hear her smiles through the phone but I did not feel anything for her other than sympathy; The sort of sympathy you would feel for a homeless man or a lonely old lady. I felt sorry for this being on the end of the line but I did not feel empathy and to be honest, neither did I care, feelings of which were lost long ago. I know that after that six-minute conversation I will have to face something similar to that in the future. I am not looking forward to it although until the time comes when she can no longer contact me I will just have to deal with her intruding in on my life again and again.
Whilst it was a bummer having to deal with something that knocked me for six mid-week it was also nice having the time off and sorting out some little odd's and sod's, but I really do love working and spending my days shuffling paper and tapping away on the keyboard whilst nattering to colleagues about the current affairs and daily TV dribble. Oh how I have missed it. Whilst today was my first day in my new role I feel that whilst at the moment it is a bit of a mess and the systems need a tidy-up, the role itself is not all that complex and neither are the systems in which hopefully won't take too long to master. As for the eye-candy; Well unfortunately the men are all over thirty and aren't much to look at, but I suppose that is why I have that dashing Mr. Cheese!
Speaking of which I had a lovely weekend spent eating out (not in that way although I wish to god it was!), socialising over wine with friends and watching wildlife programmes before falling asleep in each others arms. It is a far cry from some of the feelings I had been brewing the last few weeks. Just before Christmas Mr. Cheese had decided that later on in 2014 he would like to travel the world, following in his friends footsteps by going out to Ghana in Africa to teach English to children and coach a football team out there too. And whilst it sounds like the perfect route into a teaching career back home in Blighty I can't help but feel a little left out. A few weeks ago I had mentioned how wonderful my Boyfriend's plans sound and he had responded by mentioning lightly about me coming along too. Knowing it was one of his throw-away comments I shrugged it off not really thinking about it very much until I was alone and bored with the Internet. Tapping into Google I found more information that made me want to join in Mr. Cheese's adventure. After a wonderful Saturday lounging and socialising with friends and during some idle pillow talk in bed on Sunday morning, I approaching the subject cautiously as I always do I mentioned to him that I had thought about coming along on his three-month-trip. Sadly the feelings were not mutual and I was somewhat deflated to learn that the throw-away comment made days earlier was now null and void. Whilst I tried to hide my discontent and slight sadness I thought of the other big issue that would surround us come Autumn. Our Relationship!
By the way Mr. Cheese was talking of marriage proposals and being hit on by locals, not to mention 'meeting' new people along his travels I felt as though the decision to separate was already made before it had even really been discussed properly. This only added to how upset I already felt and I tried to talk about it with Mr. Cheese but unfortunately other things, like football, seemed to take over in importance. Over the passed few days after speaking to Miss Tweedle-Dumb about the whole thing and realising that I too will be single as the leaves begin to fall I have tried to keep my chin up; Especially not wanting to cause a distraction from me concentrating on my new job, but it is hard when I know the end is somewhat nigh. You see, I know I think into things far too much, and not just with Mr. Cheese. With everything from the wink the bin man gave me to why that women in Starbucks gave me extra cream? I can't help it. The worst thing is I know I do it and the majority of the time I get so worked up that I simply cannot talk about it. Whenever I try and bring anything up that troubles me with Mr. Cheese I always clam up. Looking into his eyes of cool, crystal blue I end up stuttering and stammering the words refusing to come out into the open for fear that I will be judged and shrugged off with simple sweet nothings. Last week it came to a head when I confronted my beloved boyfriend about all my worldly issues surrounding 'us'!
Ever since we decided to give it a go properly, I have been feeling as though the excitement has gone, disappeared into thin air along with our frivolous frolics and flirtations prior to our break at the beginning of the year. I know its really silly and that I shouldn't let it bother me but the sheer fact that I know my man has been with someone else; Doing the things we do, doing the things we don't do, having fun and building on initial first impressions with another women makes me ill. In the time that we were apart we both saw different people. Obviously you know that all my dates (if you can even call some of them that) were a complete shambles and to be brutally honest I was only really doing it for attention. As for Mr. Cheese it was like he was living the high life, going on successful dates and getting to know other girls that were much prettier, slimmer, more intelligent, more ambitious, more flirty (as if that's possible!) and generally more better than me. A girl Mr. Cheese was seeing in the beginning (AKA Miss South-Africa) fizzled out by the end of January but after our encounter the day I moved into my new home Mr. Cheese saw new opportunities. He met a girl whom shall only remain as Miss Roast but
Miss Roast was far closer to his 'type' than I would ever be. Long brown wavy hair, a fair complexion, dark eyes and a large chest were all things I failed to possess and as a result after looking at photo's of her in all her humble prettiness I felt very low. When I found out on the morning of my first football match a few weeks after getting back together with Mr. Cheese, that they had slept together it literally ripped me apart. Crying the entire of the way home from London after spending the weekend with my new boyfriend, I felt ridiculous knowing that I was the worst one out of both of us for sleeping with two different people in the space of a fortnight both of which were ONS's. I kept saying to myself I cant be hypocritical for his rendezvous with Miss Roast when 'exploring' was exactly what we had agreed to do and even more so with the fact that I crossed that line first in sleeping with Mr. DJ and Mr. Rockclimber. Although I still try to hide it, It still makes me a little sick to the stomach to think that he has even kissed someone else let alone having full-blown sexual intercourse whilst there I was alone in my flat crying over Rom-Com's, eating melted chocolate and feeling sorry for myself. Maybe that is one of the reasons I deleted all traces of Miss Roast and Miss South-Africa off my boyfriend's phone. Maybe it was jealousy? Maybe it was low self-esteem? Maybe it was the paranoia that I knew I'm not that great compared to them and that he could easily go back to them, especially since we live in different cities at the moment.
I suppose in a way I will just have to learn to live with it and accept that it was me he chose; Maybe not to spend the rest of his life with or to bear children with, but for the short-term to make each other happy. I know I won't we handed to him by my father in a white gown and I know he wont be words of encouragement whilst I birth our first child but what I do know is that for the time being he makes me happy and I would like to think that the feelings are reciprocated. Obviously in years to come I may well be eating my words as I know all too well how things can change in an instant. I really do like Mr. Cheese and I worry most days that I like him alot more than he likes me, but I suppose only time will tell and maybe Ghana will be a good thing for us as a couple. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say and our love-story is only proof of that.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Evening Everybody,
So after last week was spent indulging in a wonderfully prepared duck dinner from Mr. Cheese, a spot of golf and the seaside I was glad to only have a few days left of being officially unemployed before starting my new job. However relaxing was to be brought to a crash landing when on Wednesday last week I had my morning interrupted by a phone call quite literally out of the blue. Answering the withheld number, anticipating it being something to do with work or maybe a call centre about blasted PPI again I listened for an answer to my 'Hello'. Nothing came. I gestured again. Still nothing. Just as I went to hang up I heard muffling and thinking it was just a soggy line form an Indian call centre I reattached my phone to my ear and listened. What crept into my ear was the sound of my mother's voice.
"I know you can hear me" she said in a slow and deep tone. I loathed it already. Completely shocked and stunned like a rabbit in the headlights of an on coming car I froze, taken aback to darker times as a young teenager. After introducing herself once more she proceeded to make pointless small talk. When I came to ask the question as to why I was encountering with such a phone call I was met by a surprising tale. Apparently someone had told my mother through the grape vine that things were not great for me, that I had been through a trauma and wasn't doing too well. Ha! The thought that something such as being unemployed or possibly being struck down with Influenza was of concern to my mother was somewhat odd, especially given the circumstances that many a time before I had been in a far worse place, often at her own doing and she did not seem to take an interest in my well-being then. So why now? I don't know and to be honest I don't really care. I made polite conversation although I was unable to hide in my voice that I was sceptical and suspicious of such a communication. At least with an email or letter I could bin it. 'How do I get out of this?' I thought to myself as I struggled to deal with the situation. Luckily I didn't have to think for long as after again more irrelevant and trivial chit-chat the conversation was terminated by myself making excuses that I had stuff to do and ending it there.
One comment did stick out to me though and that was more-so the reaction I felt rather than the comment itself. I suppose in an attempt to show feelings other than hate and poison she exclaimed how the previous evening she had dreamt about me as a small girl in denim dungaree's with buttons. I could hear her smiles through the phone but I did not feel anything for her other than sympathy; The sort of sympathy you would feel for a homeless man or a lonely old lady. I felt sorry for this being on the end of the line but I did not feel empathy and to be honest, neither did I care, feelings of which were lost long ago. I know that after that six-minute conversation I will have to face something similar to that in the future. I am not looking forward to it although until the time comes when she can no longer contact me I will just have to deal with her intruding in on my life again and again.
Whilst it was a bummer having to deal with something that knocked me for six mid-week it was also nice having the time off and sorting out some little odd's and sod's, but I really do love working and spending my days shuffling paper and tapping away on the keyboard whilst nattering to colleagues about the current affairs and daily TV dribble. Oh how I have missed it. Whilst today was my first day in my new role I feel that whilst at the moment it is a bit of a mess and the systems need a tidy-up, the role itself is not all that complex and neither are the systems in which hopefully won't take too long to master. As for the eye-candy; Well unfortunately the men are all over thirty and aren't much to look at, but I suppose that is why I have that dashing Mr. Cheese!
Speaking of which I had a lovely weekend spent eating out (not in that way although I wish to god it was!), socialising over wine with friends and watching wildlife programmes before falling asleep in each others arms. It is a far cry from some of the feelings I had been brewing the last few weeks. Just before Christmas Mr. Cheese had decided that later on in 2014 he would like to travel the world, following in his friends footsteps by going out to Ghana in Africa to teach English to children and coach a football team out there too. And whilst it sounds like the perfect route into a teaching career back home in Blighty I can't help but feel a little left out. A few weeks ago I had mentioned how wonderful my Boyfriend's plans sound and he had responded by mentioning lightly about me coming along too. Knowing it was one of his throw-away comments I shrugged it off not really thinking about it very much until I was alone and bored with the Internet. Tapping into Google I found more information that made me want to join in Mr. Cheese's adventure. After a wonderful Saturday lounging and socialising with friends and during some idle pillow talk in bed on Sunday morning, I approaching the subject cautiously as I always do I mentioned to him that I had thought about coming along on his three-month-trip. Sadly the feelings were not mutual and I was somewhat deflated to learn that the throw-away comment made days earlier was now null and void. Whilst I tried to hide my discontent and slight sadness I thought of the other big issue that would surround us come Autumn. Our Relationship!
By the way Mr. Cheese was talking of marriage proposals and being hit on by locals, not to mention 'meeting' new people along his travels I felt as though the decision to separate was already made before it had even really been discussed properly. This only added to how upset I already felt and I tried to talk about it with Mr. Cheese but unfortunately other things, like football, seemed to take over in importance. Over the passed few days after speaking to Miss Tweedle-Dumb about the whole thing and realising that I too will be single as the leaves begin to fall I have tried to keep my chin up; Especially not wanting to cause a distraction from me concentrating on my new job, but it is hard when I know the end is somewhat nigh. You see, I know I think into things far too much, and not just with Mr. Cheese. With everything from the wink the bin man gave me to why that women in Starbucks gave me extra cream? I can't help it. The worst thing is I know I do it and the majority of the time I get so worked up that I simply cannot talk about it. Whenever I try and bring anything up that troubles me with Mr. Cheese I always clam up. Looking into his eyes of cool, crystal blue I end up stuttering and stammering the words refusing to come out into the open for fear that I will be judged and shrugged off with simple sweet nothings. Last week it came to a head when I confronted my beloved boyfriend about all my worldly issues surrounding 'us'!
Ever since we decided to give it a go properly, I have been feeling as though the excitement has gone, disappeared into thin air along with our frivolous frolics and flirtations prior to our break at the beginning of the year. I know its really silly and that I shouldn't let it bother me but the sheer fact that I know my man has been with someone else; Doing the things we do, doing the things we don't do, having fun and building on initial first impressions with another women makes me ill. In the time that we were apart we both saw different people. Obviously you know that all my dates (if you can even call some of them that) were a complete shambles and to be brutally honest I was only really doing it for attention. As for Mr. Cheese it was like he was living the high life, going on successful dates and getting to know other girls that were much prettier, slimmer, more intelligent, more ambitious, more flirty (as if that's possible!) and generally more better than me. A girl Mr. Cheese was seeing in the beginning (AKA Miss South-Africa) fizzled out by the end of January but after our encounter the day I moved into my new home Mr. Cheese saw new opportunities. He met a girl whom shall only remain as Miss Roast but
Miss Roast was far closer to his 'type' than I would ever be. Long brown wavy hair, a fair complexion, dark eyes and a large chest were all things I failed to possess and as a result after looking at photo's of her in all her humble prettiness I felt very low. When I found out on the morning of my first football match a few weeks after getting back together with Mr. Cheese, that they had slept together it literally ripped me apart. Crying the entire of the way home from London after spending the weekend with my new boyfriend, I felt ridiculous knowing that I was the worst one out of both of us for sleeping with two different people in the space of a fortnight both of which were ONS's. I kept saying to myself I cant be hypocritical for his rendezvous with Miss Roast when 'exploring' was exactly what we had agreed to do and even more so with the fact that I crossed that line first in sleeping with Mr. DJ and Mr. Rockclimber. Although I still try to hide it, It still makes me a little sick to the stomach to think that he has even kissed someone else let alone having full-blown sexual intercourse whilst there I was alone in my flat crying over Rom-Com's, eating melted chocolate and feeling sorry for myself. Maybe that is one of the reasons I deleted all traces of Miss Roast and Miss South-Africa off my boyfriend's phone. Maybe it was jealousy? Maybe it was low self-esteem? Maybe it was the paranoia that I knew I'm not that great compared to them and that he could easily go back to them, especially since we live in different cities at the moment.
I suppose in a way I will just have to learn to live with it and accept that it was me he chose; Maybe not to spend the rest of his life with or to bear children with, but for the short-term to make each other happy. I know I won't we handed to him by my father in a white gown and I know he wont be words of encouragement whilst I birth our first child but what I do know is that for the time being he makes me happy and I would like to think that the feelings are reciprocated. Obviously in years to come I may well be eating my words as I know all too well how things can change in an instant. I really do like Mr. Cheese and I worry most days that I like him alot more than he likes me, but I suppose only time will tell and maybe Ghana will be a good thing for us as a couple. Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say and our love-story is only proof of that.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
The Straight Jacket
Hello Everyone,
OK, So firstly thank you to everyone for all your supportive messages about last week's slight meltdown. Last week I should explain was a mere blip on the blossoming relationship that is growing between myself and my fromage friend. I soon recognised that essentially it doesn't matter. Mr. Cheese obviously likes me enough to give me his attention during football season and to invite me to spend Christmas with him and his family. After a total of seventy-two hours of not talking to Mr. Cheese I finally caved in when I realised how ridiculous I was being about the whole thing. That and the fact I felt awful at the thought I had made Mr. Cheese feel so bad he lost his appetite. Safe to say though that after the weekend I have just had, the appetite is most defiantly back - And I don't just mean for food ...
After building up on the sexual chemistry between us for a few days it had got to a stage where it was uncontainable. Friday evening as I stepped of the bus from work (early for once) there amongst the bumbler's of town I saw a hairy figure. Straight up to him I went, letting his warm embrace shelter me from the chill of the evening air. It was here, in front of several commuters that we shared our first PDA, or Public Display of Affection to all you oldies out there, haha. It felt wonderful and for a second I didn't even realise that this was Mr. Cheese 'the guy I was wondering weather he fancied me or not'. I felt as if he was proud to show me off as something that he had, and boy has he got me! Hook! Line! Sinker!
After starring into the other ones eyes we decided that we should just go back to mine and settle our insane need for passion right there and then. And so we plodded off back home to my flat where Mr. Cheese and I sat and kissed whilst we chatted away about our weeks before heading out to dinner at a posh Italian restaurant. During dinner I felt like I was with someone who was much more than a regular shag. Something special. Someone special. It was during one of these moments whereby I was gazing and imagining what the future might hold that he asked about my plans over the next few months. This gradually turned from a casual conversation into full blown calender syncing with each other, planning and plotting every weekend up until the end of the year. Some weekends we will see each other, some we will not but I am under no impression that my fondness of him and his fondness of me will only get stronger, and as Christmas approaches fast it can only be a good thing.
Saturday we separated to do our own things although this wasn't before I was tossed and turned in all manner of the sense by a very excitable Mr. Cheese in the morning. Completely and utterly insatiable he only left me wanting more before he went off to football with the family in Oxfordshire and I had a quiet, lazy afternoon at home, despite the fact I had a hair cut and a tattoo appointment booked. Saturday evening I made my way down to my hometown of Dunstable for a Charity event hosted by my Grandmother. Much to my surprise Mr. Cheese was already there, sat at a table awaiting my arrival with entourage consisting of the Tweedles and Miss Stuu. 'He is brave. Turning up in a town you've never been to before, walking into a bar you aren't a regular in and then entering a venue whereby you know no-one. Brave man!' I thought. To make matters worse my Grandmother and Grandfather had already introduced themselves and probably told Mr. Cheese all about my childhood escapades making mud-pies and feeding them to my cat.
Saturday night went surprisingly well. Not only were my Grandparents there to meet the 'not-so-secretive-anymore' Mr. Cheese; but also on the line up was my Father and his girlfriend as well as my Uncle and Aunt closely followed by some close family friends all of which were kind and easy-going on him. And as I mingled amongst family and friends I became aware that whilst I had left Mr. Cheese in the well capable hands of the girls I still knew that he would be able to hold a conversation well. That was until my Father came over to talk to him, ushering me away. Making eyes at Miss Tweedle-Dumb I knew she would keep the conversation away from Mr. Cheese as possible. Sometimes I have the greatest friends.
As the night continued I slowly recognised the tell-tale signs of a drunken self. High-fives shared between myself and Miss Tweedle-Dumb coupled with giggles and tears of laughter I knew I was well on my way to getting very drunk. Didn't help that I had a mixture of bubbles and shots to line my stomach of nothing. Eventually the night came to an end and after walking through town I thought it best to head home to Bedford and the comfort of my own bed, obviously with Mr. Cheese in tow and not before stopping at the chicken shop on the way to my flat to invest in some shares by buying half the shop's fried-chicken supply. And there I fell, into bed full up on chicken and cuddled up on the infamous chest wig of Mr. Cheese himself.
A relaxing Sunday followed with the morning and most the afternoon spent in bed before heading out to a local shopping mall for some late lunch with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Following my previous grievances with chicken salad at restaurant's I decided after spending a good twenty minutes looking at the menu I would have such dish. Although this time they ruined it with seeds and oranges. I genuinely felt like I was eating a bird-seed fruit salad and how the fuck you eat it with chop-stick I will never know. People of China I commend you for your odd cutlery and bizarre food habits. But of course I wasn't going to snub my nose at something in which Mr. Cheese seemed to take much a delight in eating at said restaurant. I grinned and bared it and to be honest by the time I was done it didn't taste that awful. Sorry Shanghai but I will not be making a trip to you in the near future.
After experiancing more PDA's from Mr. Cheese whilst walking around the shops after Lunch I understood just how silly I had been. Sunggles, hugs from behind, sneaky bum squeezes and holding hands made me just want Mr. Cheese all to myself. Its mad to think that this time last week I was panicking about weather there was any hope of a future with Mr. Cheese and yet now, after countless sex episodes and head-aching orgasm's not to mention the crazy weekend meeting the family and handling me drunk I can honestly say that there seems to be a clear road ahead. Heck Mr. Cheese has even suggested squeezing in a mini-break to the West Country where he attended University. When or weather we will even be able to fit it all in is another question but I think it is fair to say that all is well and that crazy mentalist has now gone back to the psychiatric hospital she escaped from!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
OK, So firstly thank you to everyone for all your supportive messages about last week's slight meltdown. Last week I should explain was a mere blip on the blossoming relationship that is growing between myself and my fromage friend. I soon recognised that essentially it doesn't matter. Mr. Cheese obviously likes me enough to give me his attention during football season and to invite me to spend Christmas with him and his family. After a total of seventy-two hours of not talking to Mr. Cheese I finally caved in when I realised how ridiculous I was being about the whole thing. That and the fact I felt awful at the thought I had made Mr. Cheese feel so bad he lost his appetite. Safe to say though that after the weekend I have just had, the appetite is most defiantly back - And I don't just mean for food ...
After building up on the sexual chemistry between us for a few days it had got to a stage where it was uncontainable. Friday evening as I stepped of the bus from work (early for once) there amongst the bumbler's of town I saw a hairy figure. Straight up to him I went, letting his warm embrace shelter me from the chill of the evening air. It was here, in front of several commuters that we shared our first PDA, or Public Display of Affection to all you oldies out there, haha. It felt wonderful and for a second I didn't even realise that this was Mr. Cheese 'the guy I was wondering weather he fancied me or not'. I felt as if he was proud to show me off as something that he had, and boy has he got me! Hook! Line! Sinker!
After starring into the other ones eyes we decided that we should just go back to mine and settle our insane need for passion right there and then. And so we plodded off back home to my flat where Mr. Cheese and I sat and kissed whilst we chatted away about our weeks before heading out to dinner at a posh Italian restaurant. During dinner I felt like I was with someone who was much more than a regular shag. Something special. Someone special. It was during one of these moments whereby I was gazing and imagining what the future might hold that he asked about my plans over the next few months. This gradually turned from a casual conversation into full blown calender syncing with each other, planning and plotting every weekend up until the end of the year. Some weekends we will see each other, some we will not but I am under no impression that my fondness of him and his fondness of me will only get stronger, and as Christmas approaches fast it can only be a good thing.
Saturday we separated to do our own things although this wasn't before I was tossed and turned in all manner of the sense by a very excitable Mr. Cheese in the morning. Completely and utterly insatiable he only left me wanting more before he went off to football with the family in Oxfordshire and I had a quiet, lazy afternoon at home, despite the fact I had a hair cut and a tattoo appointment booked. Saturday evening I made my way down to my hometown of Dunstable for a Charity event hosted by my Grandmother. Much to my surprise Mr. Cheese was already there, sat at a table awaiting my arrival with entourage consisting of the Tweedles and Miss Stuu. 'He is brave. Turning up in a town you've never been to before, walking into a bar you aren't a regular in and then entering a venue whereby you know no-one. Brave man!' I thought. To make matters worse my Grandmother and Grandfather had already introduced themselves and probably told Mr. Cheese all about my childhood escapades making mud-pies and feeding them to my cat.
Saturday night went surprisingly well. Not only were my Grandparents there to meet the 'not-so-secretive-anymore' Mr. Cheese; but also on the line up was my Father and his girlfriend as well as my Uncle and Aunt closely followed by some close family friends all of which were kind and easy-going on him. And as I mingled amongst family and friends I became aware that whilst I had left Mr. Cheese in the well capable hands of the girls I still knew that he would be able to hold a conversation well. That was until my Father came over to talk to him, ushering me away. Making eyes at Miss Tweedle-Dumb I knew she would keep the conversation away from Mr. Cheese as possible. Sometimes I have the greatest friends.
As the night continued I slowly recognised the tell-tale signs of a drunken self. High-fives shared between myself and Miss Tweedle-Dumb coupled with giggles and tears of laughter I knew I was well on my way to getting very drunk. Didn't help that I had a mixture of bubbles and shots to line my stomach of nothing. Eventually the night came to an end and after walking through town I thought it best to head home to Bedford and the comfort of my own bed, obviously with Mr. Cheese in tow and not before stopping at the chicken shop on the way to my flat to invest in some shares by buying half the shop's fried-chicken supply. And there I fell, into bed full up on chicken and cuddled up on the infamous chest wig of Mr. Cheese himself.
A relaxing Sunday followed with the morning and most the afternoon spent in bed before heading out to a local shopping mall for some late lunch with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb. Following my previous grievances with chicken salad at restaurant's I decided after spending a good twenty minutes looking at the menu I would have such dish. Although this time they ruined it with seeds and oranges. I genuinely felt like I was eating a bird-seed fruit salad and how the fuck you eat it with chop-stick I will never know. People of China I commend you for your odd cutlery and bizarre food habits. But of course I wasn't going to snub my nose at something in which Mr. Cheese seemed to take much a delight in eating at said restaurant. I grinned and bared it and to be honest by the time I was done it didn't taste that awful. Sorry Shanghai but I will not be making a trip to you in the near future.
After experiancing more PDA's from Mr. Cheese whilst walking around the shops after Lunch I understood just how silly I had been. Sunggles, hugs from behind, sneaky bum squeezes and holding hands made me just want Mr. Cheese all to myself. Its mad to think that this time last week I was panicking about weather there was any hope of a future with Mr. Cheese and yet now, after countless sex episodes and head-aching orgasm's not to mention the crazy weekend meeting the family and handling me drunk I can honestly say that there seems to be a clear road ahead. Heck Mr. Cheese has even suggested squeezing in a mini-break to the West Country where he attended University. When or weather we will even be able to fit it all in is another question but I think it is fair to say that all is well and that crazy mentalist has now gone back to the psychiatric hospital she escaped from!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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