This complicated relationship of mine.
I mentioned before about how my boyfriend and I met that I puked on him, yet he didn’t just disappear.
April 2013, that’s when it all began. I hadn’t seen John Doe since September, and I was pretty fucked up. Getting drunk every weekend, cutting, having a few one night stands- then lying and telling everyone I was just fine. Right. Because cutting equals fine. Because getting drunk to numb my pain was fine.
About a month before, I met this girl, let’s call her Sara. We went out to this karaoke bar for a girl’s night. I wore this tight, black mini skirt, boots, and a loose blue top, see through in back. We walked in, and as was told back to me, my boyfriend “saw you the moment you walked in, and I had to talk to you.”
He sent his friend over to get us over. Me personally? I wasn’t interested. I wanted a girl’s night. Sara on the other hand, had us sitting with them. She and the friend had a similar personality, and we’re dancing. Which left me and the boyfriend sitting there. Awkwardly.
He later told me he didn’t know what to say because “pretty girls are always bitchy, and you were just sitting there not saying anything so I figured you were a bitch.”
Well, on my part, I’m like “great, another guy. And he’s just standing there!”
I felt so uncomfortable in my skirt and begged Sara to change. She wore leggings, that went with my boots. So we changed in the bathroom. I never did get my skirt back either.
Anyway, I don’t remember what I drank that night. More than just beer, I know. And the boyfriend and his friend kept getting us shots. I think I had about six before the bar closed. So we all go outside, and next thing I know he’s picking me up. Actually I don’t remember that at all…I just saw the pictures on my phone.
We ride with them to a house party. The boyfriend has a water bottle with vodka. Me, drunk, says hell yeah, why not? Sara passes, I drink.
We get to the party, and Sara and I go to the bathroom. I start feeling weird, and we go to kitchen to get me something to drink.
Next thing I know, I’m saying I need to sit down right now. Sara tries to get me to sit on the counter, and I’m like no…and I curl up on the floor. Of some random person’s kitchen, at a party. Yeah, I was pretty fucked up.
I could hear girls saying shit about getting me out of there (it wasn’t even their house, fucking bitches). I tried to say, but Sara says I never said anything, “shut up, you’re going to make puke if you keep talking.”
I blacked out from there, but Sara told me the boyfriend carried me outside. The friend went to get the car, tried to run Sara over. The whole time they’re fighting, I’m puking in the grass, shaking.
From there, I’m gone again. I remember waking up in the grass somewhere else, and Sara saying adamantly, “pick her up! Carry her inside!” he’s saying, “She doesn’t want me to!” and I’m trying to yell, “Leave me alone! It feels good outside.” (It was actually really cold, but I was drunk and miserable, hating myself.)
I guess he carried me up the stairs, and all that jostling…Yeah, that’s when I puked on him. He was carrying me upstairs to the apartment, and I vomited all over his clothes.
And that’s how we met. I left the next day wearing his friend’s pants (his apartment) and we had apparently exchanged numbers at the bar (I barely remember doing that…) and the next night we met up. I forgot to give the pants back, so we met up again.
And now, here we are. That’s how I met my current boyfriend. Embarrassing. But somehow he stuck around and fell in love with me. Go figure.