I’ve been with my girlfriend for five and a half months, and as far as I’m concerned, things are great. I’m twenty-seven, she’s twenty-four, and I think she’s pretty much perfect. My stomach has recently requested that I qualify that statement.
There have been two incidents. I realize two isn’t a vast body of evidence, but both were collected at very close range.
The first happened while we were hanging out watching TV. I reached for her hand, which seemed like a safe enough romantic gesture. There was a booger on it.
I let it go. These things happen. People have noses, and sometimes the chain of custody breaks down. I wasn’t going to let one unpleasant discovery become a major issue in a relationship I was happy in.
Then came today, less than an hour before I started writing this.
I was trying to initiate some intimacy and went to kiss her stomach. That was when I discovered mucus and saliva on it from her coughing. We had been smoking, and she coughs a lot when we do, so the origin wasn’t a mystery. I could account for how it had arrived.
What I couldn’t understand was how she hadn’t noticed it was there.
I understand coughing. I understand that bodies occasionally produce something nobody ordered. But there was enough on her stomach that I was left wondering how we’d reached this point without her becoming aware of the situation first.
The romantic momentum did not survive the discovery. I’m still fighting the urge to gag while writing about it, which seems excessive of my body, considering I’ve already removed it from the immediate problem.
And I’m still very into her. That’s the ridiculous part. Five and a half months in, I’m happy with my girlfriend and struggling to recover from two things I very much wish I hadn’t encountered.
If I weren’t this into her, we’d be done. As it is, here I am, trying not to throw up and still thinking she’s great.
