So after my lunch date with Dr. McT a few weeks ago (which was fun, as it always is with him, but I guess he wasn't feeling the sparks) we've gone on as always, me popping in once a week with a dog. Laugh, chat, flirt, hug, and more vague promises to get together again.
Dr. McT always see me last, so we can have a leisurely chat, and that day was no exception. Finally waved into the exam room, he came in and hugged me as always. We chatted for a few minutes about our common hobbies and interests, but I couldn't focus... my stomach was starting to rebel. I could feel it, the buildup of acid, the burning sensation trying to claw it's way up my throat.
"ADoC, are you okay? You look a little... green," he says, finally noticing I'm not really responding to conversation.
Just as he turned away and started to shut the door behind him, it erupted... a long, projectile Comet of Vomit that shot its way across the room and all over the table, wall, and floor. I slumped to my knees, grabbed the trash can and proceeded to empty the day's lunch into it. Heart thumping, head pounding, and sweat dripping off me, I heard his voice in the distance... the clickety click of my dog's toenails coming down the hallway... the chatter of a passing nurse stopping Dr. McT for a moment.
That moment was all I needed. I grabbed paper towels and mopped up the mess the best I could, shoved the trash can and it's evidence in a cupboard, and ran to the sink to gargle with hot water.
He came back in the room with Dog, and talked to me a few more minutes. As he leaned in for one last hug, his cheek touching mine, all I could think was...
Eau de Vomit. Definitely not for dating.