I always joke that whenever I make my yearly trip to the gyno, I deserve dinner, or at least some godamn flowers, for all the violating that takes place.
The above flowers are NOT from my gyno, but rather from a certain Beehive, who was feeling a bit sickly this morning after a night of mixing cocktails on an empty stomach.
I'm happy to report that I was indeed a very good girlfriend, and nursed my boy back to health last night, making sure that he did not choke on his own vomit or crack his head open while passing out on the bathroom floor. I was on hand to pile on the blankets when he was freezing, and to remove them when he was burning up.
At one point, he was lying on the floor, completely naked, half asleep. He wouldn't let me move him, so on the floor he stayed. I snuck a peek, quite inappropriately during his drunken strife, and damn if I didn't become slightly aroused at the sight. The date rapist in me started imagining all of the things that I could do to the hotness that laid on my bathroom floor. Thankfully, he started barfing again, snapping me back to reality.
Yea, I earned those flowers, fair and square.
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