When I go out I never actively go out to try and chat up females. Ever. I also know this is the main reason for my longstanding singledom status, but for one reason or another I can just never be arsed.
Rewind to a few nights ago and I didn’t change my tact much either, but somehow I pulled. Finally, years of perfecting my ‘I can’t be arsed’ look worked. Even my bad ‘uncle knobhead, with the movement equivalent of a tree’ dancing in the early hours didn’t put her off. I was, however, initially more concerned with the whereabouts of the free Sambuca which was being given out by the bar staff (my priorities were in still in working order)!
Long story short however, given it had been “a while”, it wasn’t my greatest moment between the sheets. I therefore have no shame in announcing to the internets, that I was initially more efficient than a P&Q roll-on/roll-off ferry. Although I did make amends in due course. I did!
In hindsight though, given she had come back to mine, my morning after etiquette wasn’t up to scratch. After a couple of refused requests for tea and toast (tea and toast? Is that the norm nowadays? In the past I’ve tried to make a break for it as quick as possible – apart from that time someone actually went out to the shop to go and buy bacon so she could make me breakfast *aaahh those were the days, they don’t make ‘em like they used to*) I just always want to avoid the awkward morning thing. It also seemed she wasn’t in any particular rush to move and was digging in for the day, so I finally manned-up with the classic: “I’m not being rude but I need to go out in about an hour” (I did actually need to go out…just not for another 3 hours). Who said chivalry was dead eh? I’m an ol’ romantic at heart!
Neither did we swap numbers with each other. Would she have given me her number? Was she waiting for me to ask? Again, in hindsight I probably should’ve asked, as she was actually good looking and my type of girl, but something in the back of my head told me not to ask for her number for some reason.
Anyway, fast forward 12 hours later and I’m doing the greatest impression ever seen of that girl from The Exorcist, and I’m projectile vomiting all over my bedroom floor.
I woke up about 2am and the only thing I literally had time to do, was swing my head off the pillow to ensure I didn’t vomit all over my bed. I couldn’t even lift myself off my bed, nevermind make it to the toilet. I’ve since spent two days in bed, slept the most I’ve slept in about 6 months, and still feel like shite.
Possible Theories to the sickness:
- Food Poisoning
- Stomach Bug
- Severe (delayed) allergic to reaction to being in close proximity with a living female
Taking into consideration that I hadn’t vomited for years and that it’d been “a while” since I last pulled. My many years of medical training can only drive me to one conclusion: that the two events are somehow inexplicably related (maybe some kind of post traumatic stress).
I’m therefore estimating next intimate relations with a female to be in the year 2015. This way I won’t be disappointed and hopefully the current distinct whiff of vomit will have left my room by then.
PS: Happy New Year and all that malarkey *shakes everyone’s hand*