While listening to the radio on my way home from work one day, I heard the DJ ask listeners to call in to talk about how a romantic attempt went awry. I knew I had the perfect story and feverishly dialed-in with hopes of getting through. When what I assumed to be a station intern screening calls answered the phone, I told him about my husband’s attempt to be romantic and how it ended badly. He put me on hold and returned to say that he was going to put me through to the DJ and I’d be live on the radio. Apparently I had the perfect romantic disaster.
When the DJ clicked over to my queued up call, he asked me to share with the listening audience what happened. I had thirty-seconds or less to sum up a night of hours of misery. I started off….
Before we were married, we were at a fraternity formal together. Adam had wanted it to be a special night and before the event started, he had decorated the hotel room we had reserved with candles and rose petals on the bed. While at the formal we drank and danced and drank and ate and drank some more. Too much more. We stumbled back to the hotel room. We got to the room and I was gushing over his attempt to be sweet. Then like a cap unscrewed off a fire hydrant, Adam projectile vomited all over the bed – rose petals and all. He then fell face forward in the mess and passed out. I didn’t know what to do – so I rolled him over out of the vomit and pushed him to the edge of the mattress. Tons of rose petals were now stuck to his face, hair and clothes. He looked like a red polka-dotted penguin in his black and white suit and the flower adornments. I stayed up all night, gagging occasionally over the smell in the room but wanted to make sure he didn’t die before I killed him the next morning. This was anything but romantic. No one got laid, the candles never got lit and his crisp white shirt turned pink from the mixture of moist puke and red petals.
The DJ laughed and offered to send me 100 red roses from the segment’s sponsor. (Ironic).
As I hung up the phone, feeling a high from a moment of embarrassing fame, my cell phone chirped. I answered. It was my mother-in-law.
She asked me if I was just on the radio. My mind thought back to the story where her son was positioned as a total drunk, trying to have sex in a seedy hotel before marriage. I cringed as I admitted it was my story. She laughed. I laughed. Thousands of other people in the top radio demographic were likely laughing also.
When the DJ clicked over to my queued up call, he asked me to share with the listening audience what happened. I had thirty-seconds or less to sum up a night of hours of misery. I started off….
Before we were married, we were at a fraternity formal together. Adam had wanted it to be a special night and before the event started, he had decorated the hotel room we had reserved with candles and rose petals on the bed. While at the formal we drank and danced and drank and ate and drank some more. Too much more. We stumbled back to the hotel room. We got to the room and I was gushing over his attempt to be sweet. Then like a cap unscrewed off a fire hydrant, Adam projectile vomited all over the bed – rose petals and all. He then fell face forward in the mess and passed out. I didn’t know what to do – so I rolled him over out of the vomit and pushed him to the edge of the mattress. Tons of rose petals were now stuck to his face, hair and clothes. He looked like a red polka-dotted penguin in his black and white suit and the flower adornments. I stayed up all night, gagging occasionally over the smell in the room but wanted to make sure he didn’t die before I killed him the next morning. This was anything but romantic. No one got laid, the candles never got lit and his crisp white shirt turned pink from the mixture of moist puke and red petals.
The DJ laughed and offered to send me 100 red roses from the segment’s sponsor. (Ironic).
As I hung up the phone, feeling a high from a moment of embarrassing fame, my cell phone chirped. I answered. It was my mother-in-law.
She asked me if I was just on the radio. My mind thought back to the story where her son was positioned as a total drunk, trying to have sex in a seedy hotel before marriage. I cringed as I admitted it was my story. She laughed. I laughed. Thousands of other people in the top radio demographic were likely laughing also.
