Puke

Have you ever puked on someone? The relationship just wasn’t the same afterwards was it? Besides the initial embarrassment there is the awkwardness later as to what to do or say.

Now I’m not talking about your acceptable pukes here. Is there really such a thing as acceptably puking on someone? Anyway, what I’m referring to as acceptable, are situations where puking is expected and someone just managed to be in the right (or wrong) place at the right time. Like when you’re drunker than ten thousand Indians, sitting in the middle of the back seat and don’t make it out the window in time. Or when you have bad stomach flu and spontaneous spewage is beyond your control. Consumption of some totally disgusting food item is usually good for an acceptable spew. And of course any incident that occurs before the age of, oh, about six or so. Especially so for babies and toddlers.

It’s the unacceptable pukes that are the real deal killers. The irrecoverable ones. The ones that embarrass people that were not even there. The ones that make your friends take a subtle step back when you tell them about it. The ones that take years to be funny, if ever.

Like the time I puked on a model.

I was almost thirteen at the time and while I by no means thought I was cool, I knew I wasn’t a geek or a dork either. My best friend was Cool however. He was the envy of all my peers because he could not only talk to girls, but they wanted to talk to him. He was always having to pick from several at his disposal for dates and such. As the best friend I was expected to pick up the slack. The fact that I had no clue what to do made little difference. Just be the wing man and shut up about it.

So, one day at the community pool the dice of fate began rolling. One of my friend’s (we will call him Bob for now) girlfriends (known as Carol going forward) showed up to sun bathe and he began to chat her up. All was going well until Carol’s friend (hmmm, not Ted, how about Alice, I’ll be Ted) showed up a few minutes later. Alice (the aforementioned model) quickly became bored listening to their chat and decided to swim. This is where I enter the picture. Alice was wearing one of those tiny yellow swimsuits that go completely transparent when wet. She was also nearly sixteen and had parts of her anatomy that were definitely worth seeing. I dutifully followed her around like a puppy chasing a car, certain that I would never catch her.

It started to occur to me that I might be wrong. Carol told Bob that nobody was home at her house and that we ought to go there and party. Knowing that "party" meant sex, Bob signed right up. Alice has to come along because she is staying with Carol, which meant that I had to come along to occupy Alice. You know how these things work, it makes no difference if you are male or female, you don’t abandon the friend and you don’t pass up the opportunity, so you commit the wing person whether they are interested or not and promise to make it up to them later. And then hope you are always the first to hook up so you don’t have to.

But back to Bob, Carol, Ted and Alice. You knew that was coming didn’t you? Bob and Carol immediately go of to find some privacy and leave Alice with me. Alice maintained a mostly one-sided conversation for a while and I tried not to panic. I mean, here I am, almost thirteen, AND A BEAUTIFUL OLDER GIRL IN A SEE THROUGH SWIMSUIT IS TALKING TO ME! Uhhh... Needless to say I was having trouble holding up my end of the job. Fortunately I seemed to be maintaining some outward appearance of composure because she was still sitting with me.

I slowly realized through the fog that she had stopped talking and was looking at me expectantly. Panic, panic, what’s happening? Did she just mention making out? That if Bob and Carol are doing it, shouldn’t we? Is she putting a "move" on me? Uhhhh? Yes! Uhhh... Oh! Pressure! Decide! Shock!

And then it happened. Looking into my eyes, waiting for me to answer, to respond at all, I did. It was one of those surreal moments that causes a shift in the time/space continuum. I realized what I had done half a heart beat after it happened. I looked down at the spectacular evidence of my mental state embodied that decorated her no longer see through swimsuit and realized that the situation had changed. Another half a heart beat later I looked back up into her eyes and saw the in them the beginnings of her awareness of what happened and did the only thing I could think of.

I got up and ran. Ran like only a person driven by mortal embarrassment can run. All the way home. By myself. And hid. It was days later that I saw Bob. We never talked about it. I think Carol and Bob split over the incident, but I’m not sure. We never saw her again. As for Alice, who knows? She was only visiting for a few days. Bob and I never knew where she was from or who she really was. I will never forger her and I am sure she will never forget me. Or at least the puke that was me.

And that’s what I mean by an irrecoverable puke.