There are few better things in this world than that of the feeling of sleeping next to someone. There is just something special in the connection of your body curling around theirs, keeping each other warm and comforting each other all night long. However, even such beautiful moments are still subject to the number one rule of our wonderful English language, which is that there are always exceptions to the rules.

One such exception was an evening I spent with this girl who I had been dating on and off for a while. I had recently moved into a new apartment and she of course, wanted to see it. I think we both knew that the relationship was dying at this point, but I was having difficulty ending things because I kinda have this tendency to avoid conflict and have some communication issues. I am convinced now that she also had the same difficulty with conflict and communication. Rather than waiting for the inevitable awkward "friends" talk, she subconsciously took an alternate route to generating that awkward rift between us.

After we had gone to bed, sleeping for about an hour or so, she started moving around in her sleep. I assumed she was having a bad dream, but her movement was enough that I couldn't sleep. I just lay there mulling over the relationship and observing her unsound sleep. What if I told her that I had met someone else? No. What if I said I just want to be alone right now? No. What if I told her I just don't like her? No. What if... Suddenly her entire body had some sort of muscle spasm. It was as if every muscle in the front half of her body flexed at the exact same time which caused her to sit up in one convulsive motion. However, as she sat up in bed she also began to projectile vomit. Apart from the wall across the room, she also managed to cover the bed and everywhere in between the two. Unfazed in her alternate state after giving my room a new color motif, she fell back down and went back to sleep. I was taken aback. I literally had to pick up my jaw before I shook her to wake her. As she came back to consciousness, she obviously realized what had happened and she started crying hysterically and apologizing. I held her and told her it was ok and that she was ok (although I had some doubts myself). I helped her into the bathroom where she wanted to take a shower to clean off. Meanwhile, I took all the sheets and blankets off the bed and put them in the washer and remade the bed with clean sheets. I also wiped down the wall and did the best I could with the carpet. The whole time I was doing this I was thinking of that little philosophical nugget that I saw so frequently on the t-shirts of fratboys in my days of college: "Dude, if you puke and she leaves, it was never meant to be, but if you blow chunks and she stays, she is yours forever." For a split second, I actually wondered if I should actually run away from my own apartment so as to not send the wrong message. Before I had ample time to ponder this quandary, she appeared from the bathroom a new, cleaner person. I put this profound pickle of a conundrum aside for the moment so that she could go to sleep, all the time telling me that she felt 100% better, she must have eaten something bad, etc... Part of me just didn't believe her and not wanting someone to die in my apartment, I stayed awake watching her.

Needless to say 45 minutes later, she was awake again feeling a bit woozy. She was sitting there breathing deeply until it was decided that she was going to vomit again. She got up, took two steps towards the bathroom and passed out. It looked as if all of the sudden her entire skeletal structure had been removed. What remained of her slammed down into a pile of CD's and other partly unpacked things on the floor. I picked her up as she gained consciousness. She was terrified, dazed and wondering what was going on. Then of course she knew she was going to vomit again. There was no way we would have made it to the bathroom so she vomited on my carpet--again. I think we were both getting nervous at this point because the vomiting could be explained by food, but the passing out is another story. She cleaned up again and so did I. When she got out of the bathroom again, I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. "Of course not!" as she convinced herself that she was fine. After a small debate, we decided to go back to sleep and (luckily) slept through the rest of the night with no more ordeals. Of course though, I didn't hear from her again after that night. For a while I thought it was because she was really embarrassed and couldn't stand to see me because of it. I have since figured out the true reason that she no longer spoke to me. Her body, taking the cue from her brain, decided to come up with some way to excuse her from having to speak to me anymore while still avoiding conflict. Vomiting all over someone's room is the perfect plan for placing an insurmountable rupture in your relationship. But ladies, please, it is much less messy if we can just get the courage to be honest with each other. Our carpets will thank us for it.

Ryan has been trying to steer clear of girls with puke problems. As far as I know he's been quite successful. email Ryan