This is a vomit story in two scenes, and it’s tied to romance. Are you ready?

Scene 1:

I was nervous because it was my first date with pre-Wife.

We had known each other for many years–had grown up on the same street in Utah–and now both of our families lived in the exact same suburb of Portland, OR called Aloha (pronounced, Ah-loah. Obviously.) I needed a friend. It was time to re-connect.

We went to a movie. The movie was Volcano which I remember being worse than Dante’s Peak. We were planning to go to dinner afterwards. But suddenly, near the end of the movie, pre-Wife leaned over to me and said “I think I’m going to throw up.”

She had recently been in a car accident, and so being so close to the huge screen was making her sick. She quickly got up and left for the bathroom.

When she got back, I asked if she was all right. She said she felt much better. After the credits were rolling, I said “So, did you end up throwing up?”

pre-Wife: Yeah. I had trouble at first. But then I noticed a pubic hair on the toilet and… well, that did the trick. 

Me: Oh man, that sucks. 

pre-Wife: Not really. I feel better now.

Me: Well, I guess that means we’re gonna skip dinner…

pre-Wife: Skip dinner? Um, I don’t think so. I just threw up. Now, there’s more room for dinner.

Me: You just threw up, and now you’re ready to go get something to eat? You are awesome.

It was at that moment I was pretty sure I wanted to marry this girl.

And then we went to Olive Garden, but decided we wanted Pizza Hut, which we could see across the parking lot, instead. So we spontaneously left our sodas and walked across the parking lot and had one of the best conversations I’ve ever had, which has absolutely impacted my life in every positive way you could imagine, over Hawaiian and Supreme and Root Beer. 

Scene 2:

Our Wedding day six years later.

It was a busy day, as wedding days tend to be. Wife had TMJ still from that same car accident, and when she gets overly stressed, sometimes… well, she gets sick.

So, after we had been married in the Salt Lake Temple, we were feeling pretty awesome. It was an idyllic day–everything was amazing. Here. Here’s a picture I scanned in a long time ago.

You can’t fake this kind of happy.

Anyway, that evening we had our reception in a church building. The one thing I had ever imagined having at my wedding was a reception line. It’s pretty much the only thing I knew about weddings, and so it felt all proper to have one.

Well, because Wife and I grew up on the same street in Utah, and had basically known each other our whole lives, we had a LOT of people come to the reception. Like, many hundreds. All filtering through the line. And Wife was getting very tired.

And near the end of the night, as she was sitting in the line greeting people, suddenly she felt ill. She stood up. The line was standing there watching, and she started to make a run for the bathroom. But she didn’t make it.

She vomited right in front of the gift table. On her wedding day. With a line of people watching.

As she was being ushered away, a sweet old lady turned to her and asked, “oh, sweetie, are you nervous about… tonight?”

And it wasn’t until that moment that Wife wanted to die, because if there was one thing she NEVER WAS, it was prudish about her desires to have sex on her wedding night. Indeed, she hadn’t even planned our wedding at all–she left all the decisions up to her 12-year-old sister because she honestly didn’t care about things like colors and where the place-settings came from or any crap like that. The only thing she was really excited and cared about at all was the honeymoon and the wedding night, which she had been talking about non-stop for years.  Because she is awesome.

And now an entire line of people thought she was so nervous about losing her virginity that it made her vomit everywhere on her own wedding day.

I’m happy to report, however, that she felt much better after her little pukey puke near the gift table. And much like that first date, after a preliminary throwing up, she was then feeling well again and ready to eat the Tupperwares full of cake we absconded with, and to have certifiably the best wedding night ever in the history of Earth.


Because I’m a Casanova.

And also because we were totally in love, and so excited to be starting our lives together.

And that is the story of how vomit was the connection that brought our courtship, dating, and the consummation of our marriage into full circle.

It seems I owe a debt to vomit. And to Pizza Hut. As well as to the movie Volcano. Which is a shame, because it was a really pretty terrible movie.