Okay, so i’m never saying lovely things about a boy again because everytime i do, they frisbee on in with a whole lot of ‘fuck up’ and make Wunnaland refreshingly dramatic, yet exhausting at the same time.
Woke up this morning to my beautiful daughter, who had nothing but utter glee in her excited eyes and to my ‘Handsome’ who placed his hand on my inner thigh and told me he was ‘sorry.’ Any time this occurs in any Glamour Pusses life..you know there must have been an ‘Oopsie.’
Now for the ‘sorry’ part… *Rolls eyes…*
If there is any type i boy (.and i enjoy ALL boys..well hot ones ) that i don’t appreciate, it’s a ‘Party Boy.’ I don’t appreciate anything about a cocktail dripped, off the rails, six-pack with a quiff. No matter how much i’m expected to. I mean, if you were going to shove me next to anyone..it would probably be that type of boy right? Yet now that i’m together, out of Hollywood and a decade older…with a bambino, who means the world to me…even if I am in stilettos..what i see as my ‘forever’ is a strong, sexy, grown up man. A family man. A man who can take care of his ‘goods’ with a careful loving flair and a dash of innocent fun. Add a loyal, romantic sprinkle…okay and maybe a tan …(i’m not all good)..okay and maybe also a bank balance… ..you have my ideal.
Keiran…my very ‘Handsome’ hero, has decided to surrender to the ‘Party Gods’ these last couple of days…trailing in at Lord knows what time, with a clumsy stagger and a distinct lack of control and in my mind has simply wasted the GOOD time he could’ve had with me…with the art of ‘Party.’ He chose boozy ‘good times’ over me…and a whole lot more. As IF, the thing that made me my name (apart from boobies and a stint on the telly) is now my absolute enemy. (He’s currently on my sofa calling me a ‘bitch’ because he feels i’m being ‘fucking mean’ to him.) I didn’t trail in at 4.30am the other morning, after claiming i needed to console a ‘heartbroken’ friend, then want to go back out at 7.20am…in order to ‘get back on it.’ I laid in bed with my Baby Ruby, letting him be the man that he is.
Anyway, he came in last night…early…fucked up…and had been partying since noon. The reason why i don’t like this is simply because it reminds me of my past. My new chapter is NEW!!!! That’s the whole point. I want a ‘Good Clean’ gentleman…and one that cherishes our family more that the world he lives in. When Keiran is what i call ‘Team Keiran,’ i don’t get that. I hate Team Keiran. When he gives up the fight…he is lovely..my ideal man
We bickered…he tried to convince me that i was his ‘Guardian Angel’ and that it was ‘all a dream.’ At that point he knew in my face that i was ‘let down.’ He on his knees apologising, all wide eyed, shakey and slurry, hoping that he hadn’t ruined everything…and well he looked up at me, as i fed Ruby her bottle, by the light of the Christmas tree and said, ‘You’re just like me.’
I looked right back at him and said…’No! I’m a better version of you.’
Now surprisingly i’m not mad at him..nor do i love him any less. Yet i’m watching him and simply because if he intends to be my forever, then he needs to prove that he is ‘Wunna’ worthy. I’m a total watching and never a controller. People are who they are. Yeah he tells me he loves me and yeah he tells me he’ll never treat me the same disregard again. He’s apparently checked off the ‘party bus’ and getting into his ‘Family man-doting hubby’ slippers. I want the fairytale back.
Words are words…and althougth powerful are nothing without an action. I’ve cried by a kettle this morning. Lol. I’m a proper desperate housewive now! GET ME BACK TO WORK! (Infact no..i take that back. Lol I’m not that eager. I’d rather cry by a kettle.)
I’m hopeful, i’m happy and well we have ‘hotel night’ tonight. The reason why i can’t be mad at him…because we’re just the same. UGH!
Watch this space..