Rolaids Spells Relief

Allow me to paint a picture for you... I put on a tight black dress, cheetah print stilettos, straighten my hair, put on red lipstick and admire myself in the mirror, 20 minutes too long. I had a hot date. When I say hot, I'm talking jabenero hot. Muy caliente, super spicy, some kind of fiery gift sent directly from God, kind of hot.

I had never before dated a Cuban man. Pepino made me feel amazing. He made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the room. He always knew what to say and what to do to drive me wild. Pepino was trouble.

I had taken the day off of work to get ready for this date. I was a little nervous, but super excited. He was taking me salsa dancing. The only salsa I knew was the kind that comes in a jar. But, I was excited to try. I'm Middle Eastern. I was born to shake my hips, gyrate to loud music, while shrieking LELELELLE but I knew this was a different kind of dance. My belly dancing skills were not going to help me this time.

Looking my best, feeling nervous and excited, I waited for Pepino. He was 20 minutes late which balanced my 20 minutes of unnecessary self admiration. Pepino rings my doorbell, I take a deep breath, and I'm officially ready to dance. The dance of love. With my sweet Pepino.

He takes me to a restaurant that has a dance studio upstairs. We eat dinner, have a glass of wine, and before I know it, it's time to show him what I'm made of. Pepino excuses himself, goes to the restroom, and I walk upstairs to check out the scene.

The dance floor seems huge. There are mirrors everywhere. There is no place to hide. I strike up a conversation with the instructors telling them it's my first time. I tell them that my date, Pepino, is downstairs, but he's been here before and loves to dance. They know of the Pepino I speak of. They love Pepino. I just might also love Pepino. What a coincidence.

The class is about to begin and my Pepino is still no where to be found. One of the men in the class tells his chica that he's going to run to the bathroom and I ask him to check on my Pepino (Most men have heart attacks on the shitter, I was just being cautious!) After a few minutes, the man returns, without Pepino.

Me: "Was Pepino down there?"
Man: "Yes, but I think he's throwing up!"

I run downstairs and don't think twice about walking into the men's bathrooms. It's not my first time in one (Hey, the lines get really long for the women's bathroom, don't judge me). I hear someone puking their brains out. Poor Pepino, he must be really sick.

Me: "Pepino, do you need anything? Are you ok??"
Pepino: "Oh, I'm fine. I'll be done in a second. Don't worry"

I fetch my Pepino some water and by the time I return, he's washing his face. I try to talk him out of dancing. I don't want him to put up a front if he doesn't feel well. I instantly went from hot date, to persistent nurse when I saw how flushed my Pepino looked.

He promised me he was fine. He must have ate something bad. He wasn't going to let it ruin our night. What a trooper. We went upstairs to join the class. We dance. And you know what? I wasn't half bad. I doubt I'd win Dancing With The Stars, but there were people worse than me. Pepino was patient, he didn't get frustrated when I forgot the steps, went the wrong way, stepped on his foot, etc etc etc. He kept his hand on the small of my back, always kept me close, and for a while, I forgot that he had just puked his life away.

After the class ends, we thank the instructors, and Pepino goes to fetch our coats. Then, one of the instructors takes me to the side. Awkward. I must have been pretty bad if she wants to tell me something in private.

She leans in close and says "Pepino is bulimic. He always throws up dinner before dancing. That's why he was down there. I just thought you should know.

What is she talking about? This tall, handsome, extremely sensual, totally delicious man cannot be bulimic. It just cant be true.

We weren't even in the car for a few minutes before I question my fiery Pepino. I try not to be blunt, I want to be gentle since it's a sensitive subject, but if you know me, you know it's impossible for me to do such a thing.

Me: "Pepino... were you puking because you're bulimic?"
Pepino: "Why would you ask me that?"
Me: "The instructor pulled me aside to tell me. It's ok if you are, you don't have to be ashamed."
Pepino: "It's none of your business."

Uh oh, angry Pepino. The rest of the ride home is silent. We get to my house. I take my tight-black-dress wearing self to the front door, alone, as he drives off. A few days later, I call Pepino. No answer. What a rude bulimic.

About a week later, I get this email:

Dear Michelle,

I'm sorry I was not able to answer your question in the car. Yes, I have a problem. I hope that doesn't change how you feel about me. I'm sorry."

I respond:

Dear Pepino,

I really liked you before the instructor told me. It came as a surprise, but I was willing to work through it, with you, if you wanted to. I did not, however, like that you were a rude monkey. I cant date a man whose breath smells like puke. Nor can I, a woman who eats really well, date a man who cannot eat without puking. It's too bad cuz you were hot. Happy Purging."

Lesson Learned:

Spicy men may be hot, but they may cause upset-stomach, indigestion, diarrhea, etc. Always carry Pepto, Rolaids, or Milk of Magnisia with you. It will come in handy.