Allergies- in the past

I really liked this guy. Okay, so he really liked me. Whatever, it’s all the same. I met him on the way home from work. He looked at me and I sorta looked at him. He asked for my number and I obliged. A perfect meet-cute nonetheless. He was small in stature, but I had given up on only dating men who towered at least 6’1. He was much shorter than that–he said 5’8 which means he was 5’7 because men often lie about their height. I never could understand why–if we meet, I’m positive I’ll recognize that you’re not a staggering 6’3–it’s an unnecessary lie. We chatted and I later came to find that he had been watching me for months–same bus route, small lunch spots, same trains. I was flattered! We dated for 4 weeks, and he was very much into me–he wanted to pick me up from the gym, go to museums on the weekends, and have dinner after work; just what I’m looking for. I could tell he was "lusting" more than I was, but I decided I was on the fence so I told him there would be no sex until I was ready. Plus, we’d only been on 5 dates, so he was only ½ way to my 10-date rule. He agreed. One night, he decided he just needed to see me. I had gone out with my friends and wasn’t able to hang with him.


“I won’t be home until late,” I told him.


“I can spend the night.”


“We are not sleeping together, remember?”


“I know, but I want to see you."


After weighing all the pros and cons of a sleepover (Pros: someone to wake up next to and kiss goodnight; Cons: the dreaded sex fight–you know, the one where all night he’s tugging at your panties trying to convince you that you want it as much as he does, and after hours of tussling he finally goes to bed pissed even though you told him it wasn’t going to happen), I told him


“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”


“Why? I promise I will behave, I have to see you. I want to see you waking in the morning.”


I thought, "Really, because 4 weeks ago when you didn’t know me you were sleeping without me just fine."


But I caved. Like a man I made up a slumber stipulation––you know how men do; they say things like “I’m playing golf in the morning so I have to get up at 6am” or “Sunday’s I drop my grandmother at mass so we have to be up early." My excuse: running, of course. Everyone knows runners have to get out there before the sun is beating on your back.


“I have to meet my running group at 7am.”

“That’s fine.”


It was midnight before he arrived. I answered the door and he was standing there, smiling, with the largest duffel bag I had ever seen––bigger than any gym bag; big enough to take on a weekend trip skiing in Aspen–it was bursting at the seams with things. He couldn't even zip it up.


“Umm what’s in the bag?”


“Oh, just my sleeping stuff.”


I thought, "Sleeping stuff. Are you gay? I’ve gone home with men with a clutch filled with panties and a toothbrush." Instead, I said “Oh, are you going somewhere when you leave here in the morning?”


“Naw, just home.”


“Ok, so the bag.. What’s in it? “


“Well, my stuff for bed and my stuff for the morning.”


“Stuff like what? You know what, forget it. Let’s go to bed.”


I was so irritated. He went into the bathroom for awhile (washing up I guess) then emerged with matching PJ’s, a clean face, and fresh breath. I was thinking, "Who is this person?" By that point, I was drifting off, breath stinking, face caked with the day’s air, wearing some lounge stuff I just pulled off the shelf–I don't even know if it matched. He pulled the covers back and hopped in the bed, and not a second passed before he started sneezing.


“Hachoo.. Hachoo..HACHOO.."


“Are you ok? "


“Yeah I’m fine. "


“Hachoo.. Ummm, are your pillows down filled?”


“Yes.”


“I’m allergic to down.”


WTF!!! Allergic to down…


“Do you think we can put the pillows on the floor?”


“I don’t care what you do with the pillows on your side of the bed, but I sleep with 3 pillows.”


I should tell you: I hate men who aren’t manly. First, the matching PJ’s, then the 15 minute bitch bath, and now allergies. He continued to sneeze and with each sneeze I became more infuriated. I would rather do the no sex tussle then have someone sneezing all fucking night.


“Maybe you should just go home.”


“No, no. I’m ok. Hachoo!”


I barely slept-he's a cuddlier. Cuddling is fun for the first 10 minutes before you go to bed. I take that back–cuddling is only warranted after you’ve had sex, and only for the first 10 minutes before you drift off. After that, it’s uncomfortable. Sleeping on someone’s arm or having their leg intertwined with yours is not my idea of a good night's sleep.
We awoke. Well, I awoke to him looking at me. It was 6:30 a.m.


“How did you sleep?”


“Ok I guess. “


“So what are your plans today?”


Didn’t we discuss this last night? “I’m getting up in 15 minutes to go run, remember? You?"


“I’m going home.”


“Do you need to use the restroom?”


“YES.”


I fell back asleep. Twenty minutes later, I went to the door.


“Are you okay? “


I cracked the door and saw beauty products sprawled everywhere–Clearasil, toner, moisturizer, lip balm, mouthwash, toothpaste, floss.


“What is all this shit? Where are you going?”


“Home. I told you.”


I’m pissed now. “Can’t you do this at home?”


“I’m not like you; I don’t just roll out.”


“But you’re going home."


He was in the bathroom 4 more minutes–I counted. He came out fully groomed and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. I turned my head. He reached in his bag, looking for something.


“What’s wrong?”


“Nothing. I told you I had to run this morning and you’ve been in the bathroom for 30 minutes.”


“Oh, my bad. Let me just apply this cream to my hand. It’s inflamed from the pillows last night."


“Cream?”


“Yeah, my allergy cream––I never leave home without it.”


As he stood in front of me applying hand cream to his rash, I said, “GET OUT! I can’t do this."


“Do what? “


“Do you, this? This is not working.”


“Why are you so angry?”


“Can you please just leave?”


“You're overreacting."


As I shut the door, he sneezed again.


"Hachoo!" Allergies...