I woke up around 5am to THE WIZARD yammering in his sleep, with his limbs all over me. My heart was racing. Why was he still here? How did I allow a human being to sleep in my bed this many nights in a row? His long crazy hair was wrapped around my neck and the sleep-talking was loud and hitting my last nerve. I was suffocating in this new (and extremely fast) relationship. "Please! I can't do this. Please get off of me." I shoved him away (a little too hard, probably) and he woke up.
HIM: Whoa! You are mean! Stop it. I know this is hard for you. I know. It's too much. I know! I'm fucking living here and you hate it. But you like me, okay? You do. So deal with it.
ME: I'm sorry. I'm a bitch.
HIM: Yes you are. But I get it. It's too much. I'll go on your couch for a while....
And then my stomach groaned. I had about six seconds to get to the bathroom. The salad I'd had earlier that evening turned into an alien baby who was trying to fight it's way out of every orifice of my body. In the bathroom, aside from all the explosions, all I could think about was that this man was in the next room, hearing every second of it. When I got back in bed, crying and shivering and sweating, I told him how mortified I was over and over. He wrapped a blanket around my head and asked where my keys were, then got dressed.
ME: Where are you going? I'm sorry I fucked up. I'm sorry for being a dick!
HIM: I don't want you to be embarrassed. You're sick. I'm going to the store to get some shit to make you feel better. It'll be easier to barf by yourself. Call me if you think of anything you want.
Then he was gone and I was barfing again, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
