violently shy

at a party, a complete mess. i'd kept my stomach virtually empty during the day to ensure better alcohol absorption. however, that always entails misery and stupidity. it's something i always learn the next morning, but also something i choose to ignore when i'm drinking to forget.

in the bathroom, near the end, and i've been gone for hours. my friend had let me use the bathroom in her bedroom, so i wouldn't be seen, and so i wouldn't be in the way of the other party goers who'd need to use the public bathroom.

i've been forcing myself to throw up, because i can already feel the nausea sneaking up. i rarely get to the point of involuntary vomiting. i'd rather force myself and be in control and remember, instead of falling over myself, looking for a bush, and then waking up confused to my sister bringing a bucket for me, my friend shoving napkins into my hands, and another trying to pour 7-up into my mouth. so, i usually force myself to throw up when i start feeling unsteady, so i'm still in control and not being an asshole to my loved ones.

someone opens the door. the boy i came to the party with.

"i've been looking for you for forever."
"ugh, i don't want you to see me like this."
"i don't care! you know i don't! you've watched me throw up dozens of times and you' ve taken care of me numerous times."
"it's just not ladylike," i say, gripping the side of the toilet, noticing a rip in my tights, and furrowing my eyebrows from the disappointment.
"you're always classy, lady."
he sits next to me and brushes my hair back for me. i'm thankful i've flushed the toilet, and have only thrown up clear liquid, so it looks as if there is only some foam in the bowl.

he gives me a weird look. a surprised, confused look. i panic.
"why are you looking at me like that? i told you i didn't want you to see me. i'm all splotchy and wobbly!" i say and let myself lean towards the bathtub and i grab the shower curtain to hide my face in. he catches me before i lose my balance and fall into the tub itself.

"no, no. hey. no, i was just realizing how beautiful your eyes look after you've been throwing up."
"no. my make up is smeared and i've been crying because throwing up makes me."
"they're sparkly and clean," he says, and with that, he takes my face and kisses me on the lips.

the boys i want will always be the kinds to kiss me even after i've just thrown up. it's not disgusting. it's adoration.