I am a terrible puker. Not that anyone is ever good at it but I never make it to a toilet, let alone a bathroom. I always am 200% confident I can hold my vomit but 20 seconds after proclaiming this, like clockwork, it turns into The Exorcist. There have been several victims that have been heaved upon in my poor judgement of timing and quantity. These are their stories.
Coincidentally, most of them are ex boyfriends. It’s fine, they deserved it a little. *Names have been changed for funsies
The first was my ex high school boyfriend Film Camp*. He was coming to my college to look at the film program and of course, being the love sick loser I was, I told him he should stay with me because in spite of the fact we had had one of the most messy, dramatic, immature breakups of all time including both of us cheating on each other, I felt we could totally sleep in the same bed as friends. Well, really I felt he’d see me differently and fall back in love with me and we’d have babies and be wed. I digress. I had been drinking (this was my freshman year of college so I was always drinking) and we were laying in bed together. I had wanted so badly to mend the brokenness between us so when I felt sick, I didn’t want him to know. I rolled over and spewed all down the wall and into the sheets. I folded the sheets so the vomit was wrapped in a nice little bundle. I slept smelling my own vomit in fear Film Camp would wake up and think me even more appalling and disgusting than he already did. In the morning, I wrapped up my sheets quickly and washed them as soon as I could. Pretty sure he knew the whole time.
Bethany herself was a victim though I did not puke ON her. I went to visit her in college and we decided we needed to get as drunk as possible because as everyone knows, freshman year of college is when you are automatically entered into the world of being a professional drinker. Well, at least in our heads we were. Bethany’s dorm was a functioning hotel because the college had run out of room in their regular housing so they were supposed to behave themselves. We did not. I ended up vomiting in the hotel bathroom (not Bethany’s room bathroom) in the sink. I had actually made it to a bathroom and yet failed once again to get anything in the toilet. Bethany felt the need to clean it up herself and make sure it all went down the drain. That’s what a best friend is, kids.
The next was my ex college boyfriend Nazgul (no, he did not look like a Nazgul, this is an inside joke). It was the first summer Bethany and I had turned 21 and we thought it best to take Burlington by storm as legal drinkers. We had Nazgul drop us off and agree to pick us up later. Having been in college for a while, we thought we were pretty seasoned drinkers. However, I think once you turn 21, it opens the flood gates and you feel like you can drink everything and anything. This turns out not to be true. We had a great time that night. There’s a picture of me holding a massive bottle of Poland Spring filled with what we are pretty confident is urine. These are the kind of ideas that were going through our head. We also agreed to go to Milton to some 4th of July party these guys on the street invited us to. Miraculously, we found Nazgul and his car though I don’t remember how nor do I remember the drive home minus me making him stop at a gas station for me to pee and dropping Bethany off. Just a fun fact: this gas station was about 5 minutes away from where he had picked us up and about 10 minutes away from my home but I guess I couldn’t contain myself that long.
After we dropped Bethany off safely, he came back to my house and I begged him not to leave me. He had just dealt with two very ridiculous drunk girls and it was the last thing on his mind to stay later at my house as I sloppily flopped around my room. We were laying in my bed and I said I felt sick. He went to get up to move out of my way but then I said “Oh, no, I think it’s ok.” My bedroom in my house is across from the bathroom. Like 8 feet. I sat up, turned and opened up my entire stomach contents upon his Tenacious D shirt. Directly on him. I don’t think any of it even got on the bed. At first, he didn’t move and bless his heart, he didn’t scream as I would have. He just looked at me as I panicked and ran to get something to clean it up. We rinsed the shirt, put it in a plastic bag, and he left. I actually remember that moment post puking where we both just stared at each other thinking “Yup. That just happened.” Not sure he saw me the same way after that.
The third was a boy I had only been dating briefly. This was a boy, named Ivan*, that I had met at a bar. Actually, that’s a good story. I was visiting my friend from college at the midtown bar he bartended at and these two dudes started talking to me at the bar. Somehow, we all thought it was a great idea to go to a strip club together after my buddy got done with work. Flashdancers has a lovely shrimp buffet and ladies that smell just like the strippers of your dreams. I was bought a lap dance and I can say with all truth that I am definitely a straight woman though the girl the boys chose for me was quite pretty. I think she knew they were doing this as a joke and didn’t give it to me full throttle but I didn’t really need that sparkly, lotiony, distinctly stripper scent all up in my grill. Ivan and I realized we were neighbors (he lived 3 blocks away from me) and we went home together. Well, to his home. We had met a little before my birthday so I begged him to come to my party at a bar in the west village. He was a few years older than me and had a job he suited up for every morning and made real money while I sold shirts for the Disney at 8 bucks an hour. But he said he’d come and he did. He sat there uncomfortably with all my work, college, and theater friends yelling with glee and introducing themselves to him though he probably wouldn’t remember anyone’s name the next day. Bless his heart. I was turning 24 and I was still making the 21 year old mistake thinking I could drink whatever I wanted and in whatever combination I desired. I don’t really remember the last half of the party though my ex boyfriend Mick* apparently showed up at one point and said I was pretty gone. I took a cab home with Ivan and one of my best friend’s Matt. I remember being aware that Matt was concerned about my state and said I should go home to my place and not Ivan’s. Ivan agreed and I recall getting into my room and insisting on birthday sex. Demanding it, actually. Ivan said I wasn’t really in a place for that to happen but he sat with me on my bed, waiting for me to get comfortable so he could leave. He kept asking if I needed to go and be sick. He repeatedly said I should just sit in the bathroom. After a few minutes of this, I snapped back at him that I wasn’t going to be sick. He looked at me and said “Yes, you are.” And then I was. All over my bed and spattering onto him. He just looked at me. I stared back at him. I failed to mention how handsome this boy was. He was tall, tan, well-traveled, smart, funny, super sarcastic, and really into music. He was the hottest boy who had ever liked me at that point in my NYC life. I was mortified. On the verge of tears, I said he could leave and made him promise he’d call me tomorrow. He tried to help me get my sheets off but I said it was fine. He promised he’d call. I tore my sheets off after he left and slept on a mattress with a blanket of shame. He texted a few times before avoiding me completely. He was moving later that summer and though he never actually broke up with me, he made it clear that he didn’t want anything ‘serious’ and I think vomiting on someone and still dating them qualifies as serious. Ivan joked that he had super powers because I had hurled almost on command when he had spoken it allowed. He did not know of my inability to judge regurgitation.
My most regrettable victim was my darling puppy Katie. One of the best dogs in the world, when I got my wisdom teeth out, she laid next to my bed, sitting vigil with my swollen face as I slept. I did not react well to painkillers and this was my first experience with them. My parents had gotten my favorite Italian for dinner and I thought I could manage eating lasagna. I did manage it and it was incredible after eating ice cream and yogurt and soup for a week. However, my painkillers did not agree and I woke up in the night and somehow succeeded in leaning over my bed and letting loose on my loyal friend. Proving her endless good nature and positive puppy attitude that she still has today at 14 years old, she picked her head up, look at her back that was now covered with my dinner, and glanced up at me and started wagging her tail as if she was more excited I was awake and looking at her than disgusted I had just puked on her fur. I remember yelling for my mom and her asking what was wrong and having to say “Um. I puked on Kate.” Thankfully, dogs love you unconditionally.
The last time I got sick from drinking was in Boston in 2009 in a hotel with Lincoln. Be happy to know I did not vomit upon him. Actually, he’s dealt with the majority of my illnesses (I was ill several times in the first year we dated) and I’ve never expelled upon him. I guess it’s meant to be. 🙂
I want everyone to know I looked up synonyms for “to vomit” in the thesaurus to write this. I hope there was enough variety.