you, baby?” he asked as he placed his lips near my ear.
If he only knew how badly I really wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until someone heard me and came to my rescue.
“You are a great guy, Ian. It’s just that I want to remember it when I give myself away. It isn’t something I want to do when I’m drunk and won’t remember,” I said, putting my hand on his cheek.
“Okay, we won’t do it tonight. I promise it will be special when it happens, okay?”
I nodded, not knowing exactly how to respond, trying to fight the urge to double over in the bushes and puke out the expensive meal and champagne he had just spent a small fortune on. Ian took a step back, looking at me as he ran his hands across his face, as if he were trying to wipe away his frustration, making me feel even more uncomfortable, even through my drunkenness. The cold outside was starting to make me shiver, which only made me feel more sick to my stomach as my mouth had started to water and caused me to clench my teeth. I was hoping he would leave soon because I really didn’t want to have to embarrass myself further by hurling all over his shiny, leather shoes.
“Mattie, I just want you to know you are beautiful and I can wait for a little while.” With that, he said good night and headed for his car.
I unlocked the door and stumbled up the stairs as I tried to make it to my bathroom as quickly as my drunken feet could carry me. I was so nauseated I did not know if I could make it in time. By the time I made it to the top of the staircase, I had to run so I didn’t vomit all over the carpet. I hugged the toilet for what had to have been thirty minutes straight. Sitting in my bathroom floor I was so cold, even though I was sweating through my clothes, as the nausea kept coming in waves, and I was retching so hard my eyes were watering.
As I wiped my eyes, my makeup smeared across my hand. I tried to get a wet washcloth, but every time I moved, it caused me to vomit more. Giving up, I lay down on the cold bathroom tile and tried to stay as still as possible to avoid further sickness but it was to no avail. I knew it was coming as soon as I would get really hot, clenching my teeth as my mouth started watering then, it just happened over and over again with no end in sight. The remainder of the night was spent with my head lying on the toilet seat, waiting for the next wave of nausea to hit.
By the time the sun was beginning to rise, I had vomited so hard and so many times every muscle in my stomach, back, and legs felt as if they were Jell-O, and due to my melted makeup situation, I looked like raccoon at a water park. I still had on the dress from last night, although it now reeked of champagne and vomit, my haired was tangled, and I was missing an earring that had probably been flushed down the toilet at some point during my hurl fest. I had never been this sick in my entire life. I’d finally stopped vomiting and crawled to the bathroom sink in an attempt to pull myself up high enough to turn on the faucet and wet a washcloth, but I didn’t have the energy. I gave up again and lay back onto the floor when I heard my bedroom door open.
As soon as Lena saw me lying on the floor looking like death warmed over, she started laughing.
“Mattie, are you okay?”
“No!” I said, fighting my gag reflex.
“What happened?”
Before I could answer, I started gagging again and Lena helped me back into what I referred to as the toilet closet. I dry heaved nonstop for about ten minutes before I could stop my gag reflex.
“To answer your question, three bottles of champagne happened to me,” I answered as I dropped my head into the toilet and started another fit of the dry heaves.
“Geez, Mattie, three bottles? We’re going to have to work on your alcohol tolerance!”
I pressed the cold washcloth Lena tossed at me to my face, trying to calm my breathing.
“I was thinking I would try it since Ian made it sound so inviting, and
If he only knew how badly I really wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until someone heard me and came to my rescue.
“You are a great guy, Ian. It’s just that I want to remember it when I give myself away. It isn’t something I want to do when I’m drunk and won’t remember,” I said, putting my hand on his cheek.
“Okay, we won’t do it tonight. I promise it will be special when it happens, okay?”
I nodded, not knowing exactly how to respond, trying to fight the urge to double over in the bushes and puke out the expensive meal and champagne he had just spent a small fortune on. Ian took a step back, looking at me as he ran his hands across his face, as if he were trying to wipe away his frustration, making me feel even more uncomfortable, even through my drunkenness. The cold outside was starting to make me shiver, which only made me feel more sick to my stomach as my mouth had started to water and caused me to clench my teeth. I was hoping he would leave soon because I really didn’t want to have to embarrass myself further by hurling all over his shiny, leather shoes.
“Mattie, I just want you to know you are beautiful and I can wait for a little while.” With that, he said good night and headed for his car.
I unlocked the door and stumbled up the stairs as I tried to make it to my bathroom as quickly as my drunken feet could carry me. I was so nauseated I did not know if I could make it in time. By the time I made it to the top of the staircase, I had to run so I didn’t vomit all over the carpet. I hugged the toilet for what had to have been thirty minutes straight. Sitting in my bathroom floor I was so cold, even though I was sweating through my clothes, as the nausea kept coming in waves, and I was retching so hard my eyes were watering.
As I wiped my eyes, my makeup smeared across my hand. I tried to get a wet washcloth, but every time I moved, it caused me to vomit more. Giving up, I lay down on the cold bathroom tile and tried to stay as still as possible to avoid further sickness but it was to no avail. I knew it was coming as soon as I would get really hot, clenching my teeth as my mouth started watering then, it just happened over and over again with no end in sight. The remainder of the night was spent with my head lying on the toilet seat, waiting for the next wave of nausea to hit.
By the time the sun was beginning to rise, I had vomited so hard and so many times every muscle in my stomach, back, and legs felt as if they were Jell-O, and due to my melted makeup situation, I looked like raccoon at a water park. I still had on the dress from last night, although it now reeked of champagne and vomit, my haired was tangled, and I was missing an earring that had probably been flushed down the toilet at some point during my hurl fest. I had never been this sick in my entire life. I’d finally stopped vomiting and crawled to the bathroom sink in an attempt to pull myself up high enough to turn on the faucet and wet a washcloth, but I didn’t have the energy. I gave up again and lay back onto the floor when I heard my bedroom door open.
As soon as Lena saw me lying on the floor looking like death warmed over, she started laughing.
“Mattie, are you okay?”
“No!” I said, fighting my gag reflex.
“What happened?”
Before I could answer, I started gagging again and Lena helped me back into what I referred to as the toilet closet. I dry heaved nonstop for about ten minutes before I could stop my gag reflex.
“To answer your question, three bottles of champagne happened to me,” I answered as I dropped my head into the toilet and started another fit of the dry heaves.
“Geez, Mattie, three bottles? We’re going to have to work on your alcohol tolerance!”
I pressed the cold washcloth Lena tossed at me to my face, trying to calm my breathing.
“I was thinking I would try it since Ian made it sound so inviting, and
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