I tend to overreact and am a big fan of hyperbole. My boyfriend knows this and is very patient with me during those moments.
Last night, my stomach was launching an attack on me. I think it's safe to assume that my combination of food throughout the evening was the cause. I ate 2 kinds of chips, onion dip, cookie dough, salmon, garlic bread, and chocolate. It was good at the time; just trust me.
Anyway, I was lying in bed feeling pretty nauseous and moaning to myself. By the time my boyfriend came to bed, my stomach had gotten even worse and I began to slightly freak out. When I get like this, I for some reason expect to be taken totally seriously, no matter how ridiculous I sound:
Me: I have a disease.
Rick: What disease?
Me: Stomach disease.
Rick: You don't have a disease.
He wasn't taking me seriously. Some boyfriend. I began to get irritated:
Me: Ugh! It smells like a dentist's office in here! What is that?
Rick: I had to put some antiseptic on the cut on my thumb. How could you think that smells like a dentist's office?
Me: You brought dentist smell into this bed. It's gonna make my disease worse.
Rick: I doubt that, considering you don't have a disease.
At that point, I guess he was getting tired of my insane rambling. He turned away from me, pulling the blankets up to his chin and therefore over my entire face. I took this as an attempt on my life:
Me: You're trying to suffocate me!!!
Rick: If I were trying to do that, I'd just use the pillow.
Great. Nice to know he's thought about how he would kill me. That's when my mind began to spin out of control:
Me: I can't breathe, and now it smells like pepperoni in here!
Rick: Did you fart, and that's the pepperoni smell?
He was making fun of me. He was not at all concerned that my stomach might explode or something. I decided then that the cure for my disease was water. Don't ask me why.
Me: I need water.
Rick: Is that your way of kindly asking me to get you some water?
Jerk. The diseased don't have time to think about being polite with their requests. He ended up getting me the water, though. Upon taking my first sip, I quickly discovered that it was definitely not the cure:
Me: This tastes like pencil lead!!
Me: The water ... something is wrong with the water.
Rick: I just drank some five minutes ago; it's fine.
Me: No, it's a pencil. I can't drink this.
I recognize now that I seemed pretty ungrateful. I would like to now say that I love my boyfriend very much, and I greatly appreciate him getting out of bed to get me that cup of water.
... even though it did taste like a fucking pencil.