In the first few months of dating I was doing my darndest to make a good impression on this guy. He was a little wild, but I tried to keep up. I'd dieted myself down to a size five, never let him see me without make up, ect...

One afternoon, after drinking rum with him all night, he took me on the back of his motor cycle (and I hate motor cycles) to an all you can eat buffet.

I had been on a diet for weeks so I splurged and ate three plates of food. After finishing the meal, while chewing on some ice he told a joke and made me laugh. I choked on the ice and started coughing.

I proceeded to puke. Not just a little... I couldn't stop. I ran to the rest room puking all down my front and leaving a trail behind me. I was completely covered and told some lady in the bathroom to find him and tell him to go home without me.

There was no way I was going to wrap my arms around him to ride home. I walked, covered in my own vomit nearly a mile back to his house and sheepishly asked to use his shower.

Luckily, he was more worried than disgusted. That was four years ago and we are still together. (What a forgiving guy!)