Hello There You,
So as I continued my working day as normal on Thursday of last week, all in the knowledge that my dear Mr. Warehouse was out at work in his new role within a brewery, I revelled in the possibility that we could soon be living a life better than we were with more holidays, a car for me and less money worries than we needed. However as I finished off the final bit of security clearance I had been working on the phone rang. I answered to a voice that was tearful and trembling. It was my boyfriend. I knew what had happened even before I asked and yet I still allowed myself to ask what was wrong.
"I quit my job" a tear-cracking voice croaked from the other end of the line. As I went to offer word of support I questioned what I would even say. Anger, disappointment and upset pulsating through my body I needed to put all them emotions and more aside for Mr. Warehouse needed my support right now and not my criticism. I tried to offer some empathetic words of advice and wisdom in a moment of utter despair. I knew nothing would go in as I had been in that position myself, many a time before. But what worried me the most is that I always found a way to bounce back from a bad situation and turn it into an advantage by looking and successfully gaining employment very quickly. I just hoped that it would rub off onto my other half and that I wouldn't have to look into alternative living arrangements for him also.
Not that of course I would ever have wanted to but reluctantly, I gave Mr. Warehouse the ultimatum that he had before I fly out to Ireland to look after my Aunt and Uncles Country Farmhouse on Friday morning, he had to find a job and ideally be already working by the Thursday evening. As harsh as it sounds - He had a week. I mean I would have given him two if it was not for me going away but his reckless and quite frankly rather selfish decision was an added and unnecessary stress on our relationship, not to mention the impact it has had on our wallets. I still stand by my "Ultimatum" that it was not a harsh one, for I cannot, and will not, struggle for someone who does not consider others situations and circumstances before themselves. Desperate, I tried to hear my beloved boyfriend's points of the job being strenuous, straining on muscles and stifling in the heat of a stuffy warehouse with little or no wind to clear the stale air, but a little part of me knew that this was simply a shock to the system. Rightly or wrongly, probably more so the latter, in recent years Mr. Warehouse was seldom breaking into a sweat on where he used to work with me and my colleagues. The fact that he was now loading and unloading pallets full with crates of beer, ales and other bottles of alcohol was hard and laborious in comparison to his previous roles. In a way I felt sorry for him, but in others I wished he would have stuck it out in a bid to see if it gets better and what the alternative shift may hold. But alas my intrinsic advice falls onto deaf ears again.
For the rest of the day I seemed to mope. Not by choice or conscience doing, just simply bumbling through the rest of the day wondering how it would be possible to support our little household on the extremely modest wage I was earning. Bills, Rent and the likes were nearly nine-hundred-pounds, and with Mr. Warehouse's outgoings and bills on top it made my entire wage packet disappear before you could even say 'Jobseekers Allowance'. Not only would I loose absolutely every last piece of my already mediocre social life, I would also miss out on vital driving lessons and learning potential therefore knocking my test back even further than needed. I wouldn't be able to visit Miss Tweedle-Dumb in her new job and life in the Berkshire countryside west of London. I'd have to stop all my plans for holidays to European Christmas Markets and spontaneous weekends away. All in all I would be sacrificing my evenings, potentially working two jobs, just to support myself and Mr. Warehouse as well as the dog who also needs feeding.
After talking with Mr. Warehouse his options and explaining to him that whilst I will always try my up most to support him in every which way he needed me and wanted me to, both financially and emotionally I would try and put my feelings of anger and hurt aside to cater for him and his needs first. Although this is of course very hard when you feel wronged in a way that you have offered an olive branch in good faith it should never have to be taken and then it is taken as an easy option out of a mildly bad situation. I would have hoped, knowing how much he disliked the job from the outset, that Mr. Warehouse would have at least tried to stick it out for a little longer, continuing in the job search whilst spending his afternoons humping and lumping Amstel crates around.
Nevertheless I cannot complain too much for after a productive Friday afternoon calling round employment agencies, emailing CV's and a few cheeky hours on the Xbox whilst I was still at work, Mr. Warehouse has found himself a job. Although whilst this is temporary, with the potential of it and other jobs coming up more permanent and with better pay the future is looking optimistic in comparison to last week, but until I feel my shoulders relax again as a result of the added income, I will continue to feel the financial burden of keeping us all from drowning.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Ultimatum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ultimatum. Show all posts
Monday, 23 May 2016
Monday, 6 January 2014
Decision Time!
Well Hello There,
How are we all doing, hope your fully recovered from your new years eve celebrations wherever in the world you may be! Hope you are having a good first few days into 2014 and enjoying what it has to bring. As for my life so far this year there have been some big changes, I have resumed working as a Credit Controller and am enjoying my first few days back. I am getting out and about viewing flats and new abodes I can begin writing to you from. But truth be told, the long dark days, horrid weather and general January blues are really taking its toll. Although there is a good reason why I should be so glum as things are a little different than when we last spoke.
Now, New Years Eve was something I wanted to celebrate with all those I loved around me but as circumstances have it I ended up spending it in a west London pub, tears falling over my cheeks and soaked in wine. Allow me to explain. So for the past few months I have been asking The Tweedles - AKA Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb what their plans were for the New Year and what we were all going to do to celebrate it. After much deliberation there was still no conclusion and so instead of being stuck somewhere come midnight and not having anywhere to stay I decided to spend the evening with Mr. Cheese, despite the upset caused to certain individuals. After the struggles over Christmas, trying to figure out where this whole thing with Mr. Cheese is going I knew that the elephant in the room had to be confronted; And soon.
Journeying down to London on the train I was optimistic about the evening and day that followed. I was hoping that Mr. Cheese and I would venture into the City on New Years Day and potter around a museum or something. Hopping onto the tube I made my way to Soho to meet Mr. Cheese, but as I was waiting in the rain outside in the busy streets my mood started to droop. I wasn't feeling very happy or excited. I just felt overwhelmed with the decision I would soon have to make. I knew in my heart though that whatever I was feeling right there would be melted away like snow as soon as the brilliance of the Fromage arrived. And true, it did. but kissing in the rain didn't feel as special as it should have. It should have felt better! Making our way back to the tube I was hoping that Mr. Cheese would help my mood lift.
Upon arrival back to Mr. Cheese's west London flat, more wet and bedraggled than before we set about tidying up before settling down on the sofa for a cosy night in, softly whispering to each other how we have several hours to go until midnight. I felt for a moment and mentioned this to my date that maybe we were too old and just to go to bed to which I already knew the reply would be a stern "No." And so after feasting on restaurant take-out and wine we began to talk about memories of years gone by. I reminisced about the Tweedles and some of our first encounters of boys together and a few of the drunken teenage laughs we all had. I hoped in the back of my head they were having a good time too. Before we knew it the food had gone and our glasses were empty. Mr. Cheese and I had forty minutes of the year left and decided to join his flat mate and her boyfriend down the road in the pub for some drinks to celebrate it properly.
Entering the hot, stuffy bar I suddenly felt very under dressed in my flat moccasins, jeans and jumper combo. "I should have brought heels" I thought, silently begrudging myself for being ill-equipped. Even still I got some attention, although not always from the right people. Glancing at the clock as I was poured a glass of wine by the flatmate I pondered across the year before and the year ahead. Last year was very different and the year ahead, well, what will it entail? Who knows. As the clock passed midnight no-one noticed, including the DJ and so we ended up welcoming in the new year five minutes later like a bunch of unprepared school children on photo-day. Welcoming in New year I stood around, smile on my face watching everyone else kissing. For once I didn't know what to do. I know what I wanted to do. I know what I wanted to happen. But I doubted that was enough floor space for Mr. Cheese to spin me around and kiss me passionately in front of the whole pub. Eventually our eyes met and we kisses, holding each other tight as the festivities engulfed us.
Soon the smooching subsided, I got talking to the flatmates boyfriend. I had only met him a few times, but from our encounters I had established that he was a pretty boy from up-north with a thick accent and a head to match but a lovely chap nonetheless. Not wanting to distract my attention from Mr. Cheese too much I turned back to face him. But as I slowly opened my eyes and twisted my body to meet his I felt a cold splash and a stinging sensation in my eyes. Yes. I had my first glass of wine thrown over me. Was it the angry ex-girlfriend whom apparently lives only a few blocks from the bar itself? No. Did I get caught up in an ugly fight? No. Had I been splashed by a runaway baby elephant that had sneaked into the venue and squirted his trunk at me (no pun intended). No, but close. As I had turned to face the dear Mr. Cheese he got excited about something his flatmate had said and unintentionally thrown my wine all over me. I know, and it wasn't even his. So as I stand there dazed and confused my eyes weeping with Blossom Hill and my jumper sodden I couldn't help but laugh. Mr. Cheese on the other hand was mortified. He quickly grabbed me and pulled me in close apologising for his clumsiness. I didn't care. It was an accident and I knew that, but for some odd reason I felt as if Mr. Cheese saw it as a horrible incident in which I would scream and shout at him for even attempting to make my mascara run. I didn't mind, I was just sad that my wine was being soaked up by my jumper rather than my blood-stream.
As the night wore on and we made small talk amongst ourselves and the people around us I couldn't help but notice a tune I recognised. A song from my past. Whilst it was not hugely significant, I had been to enough DJ set's to know that the song that usually follows would be fatal to my already sodden cheeks. I made an excuse and made a dash for the exit before my ears could pick up any more music. But as I leaned against the window outside in the fresh, chilly air of 2014 my mind couldn't help hoping that Mr. Cheese would follow me outside and keep me warm. But placing a cigarette to my lips and as predicted the first chords of the song Mr. Workaholic and I shared rang out from the speakers; winding its way through the crowds, seeping into the night, poisoning my ears once more. I couldn't hold it back. I tried but as I beat off thoughts of Mr. Workaholic and the life we built together only a few years before but they were too strong. This was the song we first danced too. This was the song I first sang to him, yelling it across the dance floor as we spinned around happy to have encountered one another. This was the song that we would have our first dance to - Played acoustically and softly as we swayed with a hundred eyes on us. It was the song that ironically depicted our relationship. Almost down to the very last beat. As hot tears began to smudge my dark make-up I headed back inside in search of comfort. Finally finding Mr. Cheese at the table we were sharing I clung onto his arm for dear life, praying he would take not of the sounds that were haunting me. He did not. I curled in closer taking refuge in his torso. It was only when I explained the semantics and reasons why I was crying that he pulled me in for a brief, sharp hug. It was at this point I knew I needed more.
Collecting our stuff after finishing another few bottles the four of us headed into the lit streets of London and made our way home. Laughing and giggling all the way Mr. Cheese and I highlighted the fact that the helium balloons I had "borrowed" from the bar should be put to good use, rather than letting them float away. Licking my lips and sucking hard I took in a deep breath. Holding it in until I was ready I spoke in a high-pitched squeaky voice. This was the first time I had tried helium. It made me light-headed after a while and for a moment I wasn't thinking about the roller-coaster evening I had. Entering once more into the flat, Mr. Cheese, his flatmate, her boyfriend and I all gathered round to watch the flatmate open her birthday presents. All were wonderful, but after all that excitement I was starting to reach my upper limit on the alcohol front and all I wanted was bed-time. Being slightly fragile both emotionally and drunkenly I felt that sex was maybe best left for the morning. Although come morning it was a very different story indeed.
Rolling over and checking the time I was alarmed to discover it was gone eleven in the morning. Gently waking Mr. Cheese from his slumber I mentioned this too him and how we had missed breakfast at our favourite cafe. I asked the simple question on what we were going to do with the rest of the day and after spending money I should be saving on a train fare to see him I was expecting to make it go a little further than just last night. Much to my disappointment that was not the case and a simple answer followed my simple question. Mr. Cheese replied by saying that he "just wanted to lounge about the flat and watch some football". It was clear his plans and mine for the first day into the New Year were very different. This got me thinking and for the next four hours I lounged in bed, mostly in silence, wondering if Mr. Cheese would ever make the move. Would he ever truly be all mine? The answer is no. Don't worry I asked. Straight-up asking him if he wanted me and only me, just us, together as boyfriend and girlfriend. His reply was the same as the first time we met - "I'm just not ready".
Upset, angry, confused, frustrated, hurt, annoyed. Many words could describe how I am feeling both then and still now. I don't understand. If your eating Jam, should it really matter if its blackberry or strawberry, its jam all the same right? OK, maybe not the best comparison there but my heads a bit of a mess as I am sure you can imagine. And so after a solemn last supper (i.e - late lunch) we departed. Not wanting to go but knowing I had to we made the pact that we would only communicate through text messages and email until the first weekend in February when we shall meet again and see where we are both at. Since that moment there has not been a second that doesn't pass without me thinking of my dearest Mr. Cheese. But I know I need to do this. I want him and he doesn't want me so I need to distance myself from him. In my head I suppose this will make the real end much less painful. I can see us being so good together, but obviously he doesn't see this yet and I am hoping that some time apart will make him question why we aren't already an item.
And so for the time being I shall try and keep my spirits high. Try not to worry too much about not having enough money to move. Try not to worry about work. Try not to worry about Mr. Cheese and his developing or dwindling feelings for me. I shall bounce back from this but right now I just wish that life would choose better moments than right now. Ugh! Roll on February!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
How are we all doing, hope your fully recovered from your new years eve celebrations wherever in the world you may be! Hope you are having a good first few days into 2014 and enjoying what it has to bring. As for my life so far this year there have been some big changes, I have resumed working as a Credit Controller and am enjoying my first few days back. I am getting out and about viewing flats and new abodes I can begin writing to you from. But truth be told, the long dark days, horrid weather and general January blues are really taking its toll. Although there is a good reason why I should be so glum as things are a little different than when we last spoke.
Now, New Years Eve was something I wanted to celebrate with all those I loved around me but as circumstances have it I ended up spending it in a west London pub, tears falling over my cheeks and soaked in wine. Allow me to explain. So for the past few months I have been asking The Tweedles - AKA Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb what their plans were for the New Year and what we were all going to do to celebrate it. After much deliberation there was still no conclusion and so instead of being stuck somewhere come midnight and not having anywhere to stay I decided to spend the evening with Mr. Cheese, despite the upset caused to certain individuals. After the struggles over Christmas, trying to figure out where this whole thing with Mr. Cheese is going I knew that the elephant in the room had to be confronted; And soon.
Journeying down to London on the train I was optimistic about the evening and day that followed. I was hoping that Mr. Cheese and I would venture into the City on New Years Day and potter around a museum or something. Hopping onto the tube I made my way to Soho to meet Mr. Cheese, but as I was waiting in the rain outside in the busy streets my mood started to droop. I wasn't feeling very happy or excited. I just felt overwhelmed with the decision I would soon have to make. I knew in my heart though that whatever I was feeling right there would be melted away like snow as soon as the brilliance of the Fromage arrived. And true, it did. but kissing in the rain didn't feel as special as it should have. It should have felt better! Making our way back to the tube I was hoping that Mr. Cheese would help my mood lift.
Upon arrival back to Mr. Cheese's west London flat, more wet and bedraggled than before we set about tidying up before settling down on the sofa for a cosy night in, softly whispering to each other how we have several hours to go until midnight. I felt for a moment and mentioned this to my date that maybe we were too old and just to go to bed to which I already knew the reply would be a stern "No." And so after feasting on restaurant take-out and wine we began to talk about memories of years gone by. I reminisced about the Tweedles and some of our first encounters of boys together and a few of the drunken teenage laughs we all had. I hoped in the back of my head they were having a good time too. Before we knew it the food had gone and our glasses were empty. Mr. Cheese and I had forty minutes of the year left and decided to join his flat mate and her boyfriend down the road in the pub for some drinks to celebrate it properly.
Entering the hot, stuffy bar I suddenly felt very under dressed in my flat moccasins, jeans and jumper combo. "I should have brought heels" I thought, silently begrudging myself for being ill-equipped. Even still I got some attention, although not always from the right people. Glancing at the clock as I was poured a glass of wine by the flatmate I pondered across the year before and the year ahead. Last year was very different and the year ahead, well, what will it entail? Who knows. As the clock passed midnight no-one noticed, including the DJ and so we ended up welcoming in the new year five minutes later like a bunch of unprepared school children on photo-day. Welcoming in New year I stood around, smile on my face watching everyone else kissing. For once I didn't know what to do. I know what I wanted to do. I know what I wanted to happen. But I doubted that was enough floor space for Mr. Cheese to spin me around and kiss me passionately in front of the whole pub. Eventually our eyes met and we kisses, holding each other tight as the festivities engulfed us.
Soon the smooching subsided, I got talking to the flatmates boyfriend. I had only met him a few times, but from our encounters I had established that he was a pretty boy from up-north with a thick accent and a head to match but a lovely chap nonetheless. Not wanting to distract my attention from Mr. Cheese too much I turned back to face him. But as I slowly opened my eyes and twisted my body to meet his I felt a cold splash and a stinging sensation in my eyes. Yes. I had my first glass of wine thrown over me. Was it the angry ex-girlfriend whom apparently lives only a few blocks from the bar itself? No. Did I get caught up in an ugly fight? No. Had I been splashed by a runaway baby elephant that had sneaked into the venue and squirted his trunk at me (no pun intended). No, but close. As I had turned to face the dear Mr. Cheese he got excited about something his flatmate had said and unintentionally thrown my wine all over me. I know, and it wasn't even his. So as I stand there dazed and confused my eyes weeping with Blossom Hill and my jumper sodden I couldn't help but laugh. Mr. Cheese on the other hand was mortified. He quickly grabbed me and pulled me in close apologising for his clumsiness. I didn't care. It was an accident and I knew that, but for some odd reason I felt as if Mr. Cheese saw it as a horrible incident in which I would scream and shout at him for even attempting to make my mascara run. I didn't mind, I was just sad that my wine was being soaked up by my jumper rather than my blood-stream.
As the night wore on and we made small talk amongst ourselves and the people around us I couldn't help but notice a tune I recognised. A song from my past. Whilst it was not hugely significant, I had been to enough DJ set's to know that the song that usually follows would be fatal to my already sodden cheeks. I made an excuse and made a dash for the exit before my ears could pick up any more music. But as I leaned against the window outside in the fresh, chilly air of 2014 my mind couldn't help hoping that Mr. Cheese would follow me outside and keep me warm. But placing a cigarette to my lips and as predicted the first chords of the song Mr. Workaholic and I shared rang out from the speakers; winding its way through the crowds, seeping into the night, poisoning my ears once more. I couldn't hold it back. I tried but as I beat off thoughts of Mr. Workaholic and the life we built together only a few years before but they were too strong. This was the song we first danced too. This was the song I first sang to him, yelling it across the dance floor as we spinned around happy to have encountered one another. This was the song that we would have our first dance to - Played acoustically and softly as we swayed with a hundred eyes on us. It was the song that ironically depicted our relationship. Almost down to the very last beat. As hot tears began to smudge my dark make-up I headed back inside in search of comfort. Finally finding Mr. Cheese at the table we were sharing I clung onto his arm for dear life, praying he would take not of the sounds that were haunting me. He did not. I curled in closer taking refuge in his torso. It was only when I explained the semantics and reasons why I was crying that he pulled me in for a brief, sharp hug. It was at this point I knew I needed more.
Collecting our stuff after finishing another few bottles the four of us headed into the lit streets of London and made our way home. Laughing and giggling all the way Mr. Cheese and I highlighted the fact that the helium balloons I had "borrowed" from the bar should be put to good use, rather than letting them float away. Licking my lips and sucking hard I took in a deep breath. Holding it in until I was ready I spoke in a high-pitched squeaky voice. This was the first time I had tried helium. It made me light-headed after a while and for a moment I wasn't thinking about the roller-coaster evening I had. Entering once more into the flat, Mr. Cheese, his flatmate, her boyfriend and I all gathered round to watch the flatmate open her birthday presents. All were wonderful, but after all that excitement I was starting to reach my upper limit on the alcohol front and all I wanted was bed-time. Being slightly fragile both emotionally and drunkenly I felt that sex was maybe best left for the morning. Although come morning it was a very different story indeed.
Rolling over and checking the time I was alarmed to discover it was gone eleven in the morning. Gently waking Mr. Cheese from his slumber I mentioned this too him and how we had missed breakfast at our favourite cafe. I asked the simple question on what we were going to do with the rest of the day and after spending money I should be saving on a train fare to see him I was expecting to make it go a little further than just last night. Much to my disappointment that was not the case and a simple answer followed my simple question. Mr. Cheese replied by saying that he "just wanted to lounge about the flat and watch some football". It was clear his plans and mine for the first day into the New Year were very different. This got me thinking and for the next four hours I lounged in bed, mostly in silence, wondering if Mr. Cheese would ever make the move. Would he ever truly be all mine? The answer is no. Don't worry I asked. Straight-up asking him if he wanted me and only me, just us, together as boyfriend and girlfriend. His reply was the same as the first time we met - "I'm just not ready".
Upset, angry, confused, frustrated, hurt, annoyed. Many words could describe how I am feeling both then and still now. I don't understand. If your eating Jam, should it really matter if its blackberry or strawberry, its jam all the same right? OK, maybe not the best comparison there but my heads a bit of a mess as I am sure you can imagine. And so after a solemn last supper (i.e - late lunch) we departed. Not wanting to go but knowing I had to we made the pact that we would only communicate through text messages and email until the first weekend in February when we shall meet again and see where we are both at. Since that moment there has not been a second that doesn't pass without me thinking of my dearest Mr. Cheese. But I know I need to do this. I want him and he doesn't want me so I need to distance myself from him. In my head I suppose this will make the real end much less painful. I can see us being so good together, but obviously he doesn't see this yet and I am hoping that some time apart will make him question why we aren't already an item.
And so for the time being I shall try and keep my spirits high. Try not to worry too much about not having enough money to move. Try not to worry about work. Try not to worry about Mr. Cheese and his developing or dwindling feelings for me. I shall bounce back from this but right now I just wish that life would choose better moments than right now. Ugh! Roll on February!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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