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TMI Thursday: Terrible Date POV

October 8, 2009

If this does not sate your thirst for awesome TMI stories, then check out all the other glorious tales of things we probably shouldn't tell at LiLu's home for the staunchly raunchy, TMI Thursdays!

My wife was not the first undergrad I illegally dated at Notre Dame. See, we weren't supposed to date any of the undergraduate population because they might have a friend who could potentially be a friend of one of our potential students, potentially. Being that my hormones were more of a driving force than my hunger for a higher degree (which is why I have only a MASTER's degree), I decided to spit right in the eye of this law. What a rebel am I.

To further push the boundaries, I engaged in some illicit tutoring. See, I had this student, Sheridan, who was awesome. She had two room mates who were also in the organic chemistry class that I taught. When they were preparing for the finals for the first semester, they asked if I could come over and help them study and have me there as a valuable resource. Since Sheridan was awesome (and, yes, rather attractive), I was going to say yes, anyway, but then she bribed me with Taco Bell. Taking any payment from the students--monetary, culinary or sexually--was expressly forbidden in the TA charter. Also expressly forbidden? Tutoring in a student's dorm room.

I was off to do both.

To avoid a long and boring part of the story, nothing happened in the room, other than studying and chemistry and shit like that. Oh, and I met this girl named Margaret.

Margaret was pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes. She was shorter, but she was very nice. I crushed on her right away. She lived across the hall from the girls I was tutoring. She would pop in and out of the room from time to time, because she was friends, and six girls shared a couple of rooms, so they shared a lot of stuff. Consider her the Kramer to my friends' Jerry. Except, you know, a lot less crazy.

Anyway, as I was leaving the dorm, I passed her, and I actually manned up (figuring I wouldn't be back there any time soon, should I fail to execute) and asked her if she'd like to go out whenever she was done with finals. To my surprise, she blushed, smiled, and said yes.

Elated, I went back to my apartment and waited until the next day. I called her (I had a university directory that I stole from one of the libraries on campus) and we set things up: we'd go to dinner. Since I had wrapped up my first semester of grad school and I had just scored a date with a very cute undergrad, I planned for some steak. I wasn't shooting for romantic so much as celebratory: the semester was over, Christmas was looming, it was time to celebrate.

On the night we planned--it was a Thursday, after all her finals were done, and mine too, and before we both planned on going to our respective homes for the Christmas break--I arrived at the dorm, showered, shaved, smelling nice, and dressed for the occasion. I called up to her room, and a few minutes later, she came down. She looked beautiful. We weren't formally dressed up, but we both looked nice, she moreso than I.

Dinner was great. The food was delicious, the conversation was loose and easy, and I had a good time. When we were done, we drove back to campus and walked around south quad for a little bit. It was chilly, as Decembers in northern Indiana tend to be. So, we cut our walk short and I returned her to her dorm, fully expecting the date to be over. I was going to be smooth--I had just eaten steak and a salad with onions!--and I wasn't going to try and kiss her or anything.

But then, as I was preparing to say good-bye, she said, "Do you want to come up to my room. We could watch a movie or something."

Fuck and yes.

So, up to her room we went. The dorm itself was spooky quiet--a lot of people had gone home. Margaret, who lived near Chicago, was heading home the next day. Incidentally, my friends and I were having a party the next day, and then Saturday I was heading home. Anyway, we got to her room, took off our coats, and then settled on a movie. It was Never Been Kissed and though I'm not a huge romantic comedy fan, I went with it. It was her room, and, remember, I look like fat Tom Green, so the Drew Barrymore connection was too good to pass up. Well, basically I kind of shrugged and said, "Yeah, that's fine" when she asked.

I think it's at this point that I should write that, when I read about some of the awful dates that many of the fine women of the blogosphere recount in their blogs almost daily, I take solace in the fact that I had never been on a date as terrible as the ones they tell of.

Except for this one.

Things were going great. A few minutes in, she apparently thought I wasn't the raping and killing type, so she put her head on my shoulder. Feeling brave, I held her hand. She didn't back away. Things were going better than I ever could have imagined.

And then because I was feeling good and happy, fate decided to intervene and fuck me over.

My stomach rumbled. Not a hungry rumble. No, it was more of a "Hmmm...we don't like what you've put in here, chief." I paid it little mind. I smiled away the rumble. She smiled back. I decided to--awkwardly, admittedly--try and kiss her. She didn't pull away. Our lips touched.

My stomach rumbled again. This time, however, it twisted itself in knots. Things were suddenly not going swimmingly.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, hesitantly. I really didn't know what to do. This was back when I still had a gall bladder, so it wasn't like I was about to shit myself from here to kingdom come. At the same time, I've never really had a history of indigestion like this. Heart burn, yes. Acid reflux, sure. Rumbly tummy that didn't involve hunger pangs? New to me.

My stomach settled down and we went back to watching the movie. About fifteen minutes later, it really went to town. It sounded like some kind of gutter echoing with flood waters. I was immediately embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Margaret," I said. She looked confused.

"It's okay?" It was more of a question than a consolation.

This is when my dumbass decided to try and kiss her again. I leaned in, closed my eyes, felt my lips touch hers...

...and my stomach pushed it's contents up my esophagus.

Okay, the bad news first, this date was ruined. My chances with Margaret were gone. Kaput. Over. Finished. I knew this when the vomit hit the back of my throat.

The good news? I was able to hold the puke in my mouth as I dove for her trash can (which, thank God, had a liner and was made of plastic). I emptied my guts into her trash can. What this poor girl was thinking while the guy who had been smooching her a moment before was emptying the contents of his stomach, I shudder to think.

Did I ever mention I'm a loud puker? Especially when I'm sober? I tend to retch before bringing it up. A lot. Kind of like a cat does when puking. You know, that whole body contortion, contraction, and then the loud KAFF and puke? Yeah, that's me. Cat Puke Man in my secret identity.

The smell? Terrible. Again, like the night me and Mr. Wodka got cozy, it came out my nose. I could feel it dribbling from my nostrils.

"I'm sorry, I think I should go," I said weakly when I had control of myself.

"Are you going to be okay?" Margaret asked.

"Yeah," I said, partially laughing. I was trying to make it look like I was laughing to cover up the fact that I was crying. I was crying because I nearly puked on this really sweet, really nice girl that I really liked, I had ruined the date, I had stunk up her room, I had filled her garbage can with bile, ichor, vomit and a whole host of other digestive juices, and I was crying because I hurt. Plus, I just puked steak. Do you know how that shit clings to your throat when you puke it up? Like a fucking tentacled sea monster. It was horrible.

I gathered up the bag o' vomit and grabbed my coat. I walked to the door and she followed. She asked again if I was going to be okay.

"I think so, now," I said. "I'm going to take this" holding up the bag o' vomit, its contents sloshing in the sack "out to the dumpster." I heaved a sigh. "I had a really good time, Margaret," I tacked on hastily at the end.

"I had a good time, too," she said, then, somewhat timidly, "until...you know." She offered a pained smile.

"Merry Christmas," I offered.

"Merry Christmas. Oh, and happy birthday!" I smiled back at her.

"I won't even bother asking if you want to go out again," I said. "I pretty much ruined that chance." I hefted the bag o' vomit again. It sloshed. Again.

"No, no," she tried to reassure me. I could see the fear in her eyes that I would believe her. I could sense her fear, smell her longing to scream "EWWWWWW!" and run to the shower. "Maybe...you know...sometime...after we get back."

"I'd like that." I offered a half smile. Puke still was dribbling out of my nose. "Good night. Thank you, again." I turned, trudged down the hallway, and out into the night. I tossed the bag o' vomit in the dumpster behind the dining hall on my way by. The splattering sound it made when it hit the cold, hard interior metal was reassuring and cathartic.

I returned to my car, still weepy, weakened and sore. I went home, cleaned up, and went to bed.

I never called her back.

33 comments:

Moooooog35 said...

Sounds like every woman I've ever been with.

But they usually only throw up in the morning after they look over at me.

I cry sometimes.

Tennyson ee Hemingway said...

Oh dear. Well, nevermind. Gave you something to write about. Do you know whatever happened to Margaret?

Harmony said...

Oh that sounds awful, sorry about that. I wonder how things would have went had you called.

Your description of puking is not only hilarious but it's spot on with that of my husbands. The first time I ever seen him vomiting scared the eff out of me. I asked him if he was okay, while in the back of my mind I was trying to convince myself that he wasn’t changing into a werewolf. Up until that point I had never seen anything like it

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

@ Moooooog35: I see you and I have similar dating histories.

@ Tennyson ee Hemingway: A quick search of her real name last night revealed that she is now a lawyer in Chicago...which is why I didn't give her full name or anything.

@ Harmony: I never thought about the turning into a werewolf angle! That's brilliant! Well done!

Adam L. said...

I sure hope you didn't pay a lot for that steak.

Actually, I went to a steakhouse for the first time in a few years 3 weeks ago, and I felt like throwing back up since there was SO MUCH FOOD.

Seriously, it was ridiculous.

otherworldlyone said...

You poor thing!

I thought I had bad luck.

Travis said...

Taking your bag of vomit with you afterwards:

Classy.

"Baby. You've just got my stomach in knots, that's how good you look. Now, if you'll excuse me...no no...I mean it baby...excuse me."

Cowguy said...

"I was about to shit myself from here to kingdom come"

I will use this description at some point in my life if that's okay with you, 'cause I just laughed til I almost puked...

That's probably one of the best first encounter stories ever.

Puke is never convenient.

Elliott said...

How lucky were you that the garbage bag didn't leak?

Lori got used to me puking (as much as one can) because thanks to the GERD, I'd have a coughing fit in the car and it would trigger 'that' reflex. Nothing like trying to safely pull the car over with a mouthful.

Jeney Peney said...

Oh, Notre Dating.

I didn't know grad students weren't allowed to date undergrads? Hmph. Learn something new everyday.

red said...

That sucks, but if that happened while I was on a date with some guy, I'd totally go out with him again. Puking isn't, like, something you can really control.

Of course, this would assume anyone ever asked me out, but, you know, in theory.

LiLu said...

Margaret's a trooper. But you AND spleen with that damn pumpkin... it's your faults when I hurl on my keyboard today.

kimmers said...

I'm with Red, that wouldn't make me refuse a second date. If anything, it would erare ALL of my second date nervousness, because seriously, once you've been almost puked on, there's not much room for things to go downhill, right? Hey a few months into dating it'd be a funny inside joke between the two of you.

Pfangirl said...

Saddest TMI story ever... :( For the record, I have never puked in front of a boyfriend. I reserve that special activity for the tail end of work social functions.

corticoWhat said...

I think I once read Margaret's blog post about the same date. Except it was Sleepless in Seattle and she quit school and became a nun. Scarred for life, I guess.

BeckEye said...

Eh. College girls are used to that sort of thing.

The Peach Tart said...

yikes. I would have been mortified

Carissajaded said...

hahah that really sounds like a bad date. But just think, somewhere out there, maybe you gave her a really good story to blog about too!!

Andhari said...

Ouch but she did sound like a real nice person for saying that. Some girls would have been a real bitch about it.

Cora said...

Oh no. Sad.

I feel the urge to hug you now.

Pearl said...

Ooooh. I feel for you. The rumbly tumbly thing? I got that. There are a number of things I can't eat without paying for it immediately.

I smell what you're cookin'.

You should've called her, though. I would've given the guy who was thoughtful enough to take his puke with him another chance.

Pearl

Raine said...

thats a sad story :(

JenJen said...

You poor thing.
Hugs from here.
Just, you know, keep your distance.

Scope said...

I had great fear that you were going to fire hose it down her throat.

See, she probably tells the story about the guy who puked on the first date. She would NEVER tell the story (at least not accurately) if you'd puke down her throat.

And see gals, that's why you don't have one of the wicker baskets as a trash can.

Wonderful said...

Oh no! I'm so like Margaret...I say nice things but deep inside I'm running for the hills.

words...words...words... said...

I liked how you wrote that, it feels like the way I might write the story if it happened to me.

And I think that was a great first date. What happened wasn't your fault. And anyone worth their salt would have gone out with you again if they'd had a good time up to that point. Especially since you did the chivalrous thing and took it with you.

Samsmama said...

When I read "My stomach rumbled", I literally muttered "Oh, no" and put my forehead in the palm of my hand. That is awful!

How she managed not to hork is amazing! I'm such a sympathy puker.

mylittlebecky said...

i like how you kept sloshing it at her. i think that was a good plan.

Cool as Folk said...

I was not expecting the vomit, I thought this was going to be a diarrhea story. Whew, I'm a little comforted by the fact that it wasn't.

Bev said...

Sounds like a terrible experience, but you wrote about it so well that I really enjoyed this post! So funny - great job.

Mala said...

Ahhhh, you took your puke home with you? And they say chivalry is dead.

Amber Tidd Murphy said...

I once puked in the middle of a drunken hook-up (er, waaay back in my college days) and when I went back into dude's bedroom he was ready to continue, though he knew I'd just hurled.

I never called him again, because whose standards are so low that they just continue to kiss puke girl without even offering her mouthwash? I mean, I still would have f*cked him, Julia-Roberts-Pretty-Woman style -- without kissing on the mouth!

Nej said...

You took the bag with you....good man!