And this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the person I share my bed with

Last night, I stood watching eCrush Boy blow snot rockets into my kitchen sink. It was the first true intimacy killer of our relationship. At one o’clock in the morning, eCrush was wearing nothing but old boxers and black socks hitched up to mid-calf, had saline solution oozing out his nose, and was sort of clammy. There was nothing hot about him. At. All. Witnessing his little venture into self-medication was perhaps the best form of personal birth control I’ve ever experienced. I mean, after seeing that, sexy is definitely not coming back.

I blame eCrush for all this. A few weeks ago, he brought the Mucus Death Plague upon my house and ever since, it’s been a regular Germatopia. We’ve continued to pass an evil sinus thing back and forth despite multiple doctors’ visits and antibiotics. On Friday night, I decided enough was enough; it was time to break the cycle of snot. I hunkered down into a self-imposed quarantine and told eCrush he and his stash of Kleenex were on their own for the weekend. But eCrush does Sick even worse than I do, and late last night, he called. After ten minutes of listening to him yabber in his woe-is-me-pathetic-puppy dog voice, he finally got to his point: snotty misery loves company. He wanted to come over. I was feeling benevolent and sort of lonely, so I agreed. But only if he brought aloe Kleenex and more medicine.

An hour later, eCrush arrived in the uniform of the sick: well worn pajama pants, an old fraternity t-shirt, and slippers. He was clutching a plastic bag like it contained the Holy Grail. Bless his scrubby little heart; inside was every sinus remedy CVS carried. After reading $200 worth of medication boxes, eCrush and I finally drew up a battle plan: saline solution up the nose (his choice) and a his and hers medicine regime (mine). We popped our pills and opened up the saline box. Since neither of us had ever irrigated our sinus cavities before, I nominated him to go first.

Jamming a plastic genie bottle-shaped tea pot thing up a stuffed nostril is not easy. I openly acknowledge that tilting the head and letting gravity push saline water into blocked sinus cavities while breathing through the mouth is seriously uncomfortable. To do all that and not kill the person who is alternately offering direction and laughing hysterically at your expense? For the first few minutes of this experience, eCrush Boy clearly deserved serious consideration for sainthood. However, that all changed once the saline stuff started to work and the flying snot began.

For ten minutes, the Human Mucus Factory became progressively more impressed with his nose-blowing aim and trajectory abilities. I watched as this supposedly prime specimen of manhood started checking out his own snot. At one point, eCrush even called me over to check out the Mt. Everest of boogers he’d just deposited in my sink. Um, pass. I could not believe this was the guy I was dating. Under ordinary circumstances, he was intelligent and attractive, but doped up on a Mucinex/Tylenol/Robitussion cocktail, eCrush morphed into A Twelve-Year-Old with a mucus fetish. And let me tell you, Seven Loyal Readers, nothing says Turn On like watching your boyfriend shoot snot rockets.


6 Responses to “And this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is the person I share my bed with”

  1. Jennifer Says:

    Men are the worst at being sick, whether they’re 6 months old, or 60 yrs. And they take great joy in devolving into pre-teen/teenage boys at the earliest (and most often) opportunity.

    Thankfully, reading your blog makes it almost enjoyable. 😛

  2. Dom Says:

    Typically, I look forward to reading the various musings contained within your blog while mindlessly munching on my lunch.

    Today, because of your staggeringly graphic portrayal, I did not enjoy my Mexican food as much as I typically do.

    And yet, regardless of how disturbing it was to inadvertently think of the chicken in my soft tacos as boogers, I was still entertained.

  3. vvk Says:

    The “Twelve-Year-Old with a mucus fetish” exists inside just about every man… though some of us hide it better than others. Most of us also have the “thirteen-year-old pyro” and the “nine-year-old fart joker” amongst other alter egos. It’s kind’a fun…

  4. Zandria Says:

    Uh, yeah…sounds quite sexy! Hopefully he’s back to normal soon (as well as yourself!).

    I found your site through the BlogHer blogroll. And you’re a DC local, as am I! Very cool. 🙂

  5. Laina Says:

    EEEWWW! Just wait, pretty soon you’ll move up from booger inspection till zit popping. 😀

  6. AnonaEsq Says:

    That’s what you get for sleeping with the right wing wanker.

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