That Will Teach Her to Order Olive Loaf

Story Sent in by Eric:

I took a night science class at a local college and Adina was the only woman among all eight students.  She was quiet, but very pretty, and I wanted to learn more about her.

One evening, after class, I asked her if she wanted to meet up to study together.  She said, "Let's meet up this Saturday afternoon.  I'll have an hour or two."  We agreed to meet at a coffee shop.

That Saturday, we met at the cafe, grabbed a table, and went over free-body diagrams and moments of inertia.  Of course, I was more interested in studying her, and despite her focus, I was able to glean a few personal details.  She was single, and she was a nanny.

"I'm babysitting tonight," she said, "Or else I'd be able to study a bit longer."

I asked her, "Can I take you out to dinner sometime?"

"Sure," she said, and that was really great to hear.  Things were going my way.

Well, not really.  Adina called me up that night, and she didn't sound very good at all.

"I'm hugging a goddamn toilet," she said, "Something was wrong with what I ate at the coffee shop.  Are you sick, too?"

I wasn't.  I felt great.  I replied, "No, but we both had different sandwiches.  Maybe yours had something questionable in it, or maybe you're sick from something else."

She said, "I'm supposed to be watching two kids, but instead I'm puking into a toilet, one of the kids is screaming, and I have no clue where the other one is, although I know that he knows how to open the front door."

I asked, "Can I help?"

She went on, "My stomach made a loud hissing sound and the next thing I knew I vomited hot puke all over one of the kids at the dinner table.  I ran for the bathroom and now I'm here.  What should I do?"

I said, "If you're in a lot of pain, I'd call an ambulance.  Seriously."

"Ugh," she said, "I never should've gone to that place with you.  Now I'm going to die and it's all your fault."

I replied, "I didn't upset your stomach.  I can come by to help you if you need me to.  Where are you?"

She replied, "Unnnh," and hung up.  I called her again and again.  No response.  I stayed up for a while in case she called me again, but she didn't.

The next day, I tried her again, but she didn't pick up.  I'd be seeing her in class, in theory, that Monday night, and I did.

I didn't have a chance to speak with her before the session started, but as soon as it ended, she grabbed her bag and booked it out of there.  I caught up with her in the parking lot and asked her if she was okay.

"Yeah, Mr. Obsessive.  I'm fine.  You called me like 50 times.  Are you psychotic?"

I said, "I called you three times over two days, and I was concerned for your health."

"Whatever," she said, "Don't call me ever again, okay?"

She drove off, and as she requested, I never again called her or spoke to her in class.