Once a Wife…Always a wife…

 

Happy ‘almost end of the work day.’ Well if you’re reading this you’ve probably clocked off from your tickety-tock, tedious work time of doom, as i’m sure they don’t allow you to read kitty cat blogs as you ponder life from your busy office desk…well unless you’re something ace like a burlesque dancer, where a desk is not of service to you..then i’m sure you’re allowed to have a quick blog read before a nippled tassled shimmie.

I crumbled and as soon as my hubby sauntered in from his afternoon meeting with an ‘i’m starving, are you making me pasta,’ I found myself wiggling on into the kitchen, as I swore i was no longer a slave to domesticity (not that i’m quite that at all…i need a bit more work 🙂 ) and with a pan in my hand, I was cooking him pasta….at his very own loving demand. The only thing I can compare it to, is when you pretend you’re over your ex and you go out drinking promising you’re friends that you no longer give two flying hoots about them anymore and you’re so happy, that you’re having the best time ever. Half an hour later you find yourself hiding in a toilet corner texting them and calling them hoping that they pick up. They don’t…so you have a few more wines and a shot, dance around a little bit, again like you’re the funnest person in the universe…then creep back to the toilet or outside for a cigarette (because you’ve now taken up smoking) and you not only text them one more time, but in your drunken and rather regrettable state, you begin to scroll dial…but this time drunk dial. They don’t pick up and you get all upset because they no longer care, so the vodka makes you redial, redial, redial, redial and then redial some more. 🙂 We’ve all been there. It’s not the mightiest of positions. It was very Hollywood Wunna, until I got all confident and va voomy and realized that I had a little black book of opportunity. But then when i returned to England, came off the telly and dated that hideous Boyband member…it snook up on me again, out of desperation and i was a massive drunken lunatic, who simply just wanted to love. He was an idiot an dnow i look back, i think, why did I ever ever EVER date him. HE was the one punching above his weight, yet he made me believe I was. It’s a trick boys sometimes use to feel powerful. Luckily, I saved myself by weirdly moving back to Yorkshire, pulling myself together and having a baby, along with a marriage to a wonderful man..with a baby on the way and a fairytale that I seem to be living. I Tweeted earlier that if you are dating a guy or girl for that matter, I don’t want to be sexiest (even though I am. GIRLS RULE!) Anyway, yeah  Tweeted that if you’re partner is often still referring to his ex, and doing it quite a lot,be it a memory, a time, a gift, an anything…they still have feelings for them and whilst someone still has feelings for someone else, they can never ever be fully yours. So you should let them go, until they are ready to date. (I have a chick friend going through this right now. I once went on a date with a guy in LA who nonstop talked about his ex-girlfriend who ran out on him all through our FIRST DATE. he talked so much about her that I ended up giving him love life advice, as he CRIED and I do mean LITERALLY CRIED because he missed her so much. LOL.) That used to be my dating luck. So, I also want to underline the fact that you can go through years and years of hoping to find Mr.Right and think you’re never going to find them and out of nowhere, *POP* they’re there, on one knee, with their Knights armour and whole heart ready to love you forever and do it the way you always wanted.

I’m not sure how any of that compares to me making pasta for Keiran, lol…other than the fact that I said I wasn’t going to (as i flung my bra to the heavens in an act of feminism…boys hate that, for those of you ladies trying to pull,) yet found myself doing it anyway out of love. When you’re in love you can’t see the apple of your eye starving. It rubs you up the wrong way or just doesn’t sit right. It’s like the ‘silent treatment’ when all you want to do is chatter. So i guess, no matter whether you’re a rich girl, a poor girl, a sassy girl or a shy girl…a glamour puss or a Jane of the plain variety…once a wifey…always a wifey. He’s the same with me. He’ll stomp around saying this, that and everything inbetween…then fins himself snuggling me like a bunny who needs his little Asian delight, in order to simply get through the day. I guess that’s what love is about. I adore my little bit of handsome and well I just can’t help him. I even fricking bought him salmon for tea, for crying out loud. I drove myself because i’m a big girl now and he was so impressed he said, ‘OMG! I can’t believe I actually have a working wife now.’ He doesn’t mean ‘working’ as in ‘going to work.’ But more the fact that i’m not a broken version. Quoite cheeky of him really, as I think he still has a lot more work to do to get to my idea of the final product 🙂 (Then we watched ‘Millionaire Matchmaker,’ Keiran’s favourite thing, as he has a sick fantasy about either being super dooper rich he can buy worlds if he wanted, so he’s the ideal alpha male, OR weirdly being a rich old cougars Toyboy. I’ll probably see him on the next episode of that show. Today’s was about rich, millionaire women looking for men to love and date. He giggled because he knew if that ever happened, i would scratch him eyes out.)

Okay, Ruby’s on her way home now, so i’m glad i’ve managed to fit in a quick blog. I’ve finally got a press release to edit and I’ve also been asked to be part of a charity single to raise money for abused women. I love a bit of a sing song and well what better way to do it then for charity! So i’ll be popping out a bambino and popping straight into the studio to record the song and film the video.

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