Love Is Where the Vomit Is

It's easy to exercise your love reflex when you're on a beach in Cancun, when your nine to five and the rat race back home seems a million miles away. The sound of waves gently crashing in the distance and the sun's sweet rays are the perfect companions for your rum and Coke. Your man turns to you at one point and rubs your sandy feet, "This is the life, Babe, right?" he says. You've been dating 18 months, and he is pretty damn awesome, so you smile and offer a sweet if not surprising, "In good times and bad, Babe, I got you.

But do you mean it? I mean, are you really there for him when the only thing burning is his shivering, snot packed body? When his usually sexy blue eyes are replaced with watery, baggy, bloodshot sockets of pain?

I'm talking, of course, about the winter flu -- the nasty cold season. That special time of year that morphs your boo's handsome mug into a mucus-dripping Shrek of despair.

The flu sucks, BUT offers a remarkable opportunity to discover repulsive and fascinating things about your man (and you).

Are you there for him when diarrhea attacks? When his stomach bug erupts into a cascading vomitous waterfall, all over your new bed sheets? How're you feeling when his agonizing puke-yelps wake up the neighbors? And how're we feeling when small mysterious chunks of his dinner are flying off the bed and sticking onto your bare knees and toes? Are you there for him?

I hope so. Remember Cancun? You said you got his back, right?

"I love when you sweat", you told him, back at the hotel in Mexico. But how about when he's sweating like a 4th quarter Lebron from a 104-degree fever? And, when you rub his back he fires back a ferocious " F- off" look. How about when you've been up all night from this fella moaning like he's giving birth to a calf? Are you pissed yet? Remember, he can take the day off from his silly job at the bike shop; you have to show up at the office ready to go at 8:00am.

And by the way, how about when he complains that the cold compress you gave him is too damn hot? That the homemade garlic soup you slaved over tastes like ass? How about when you bundle up and set forth on a 3am Gatorade mission, only to come back and hear him say, "They only had yellow? I wanted blue. They didn't have blue?"

Are you thinking, who the hell is this beast? Or, are you cool?

And then the real fun starts. His neurotic sister calls every 45 minutes, "Is he ok? I know he's really sick, poor little puppy. Is he ok? Is he ok?" Yes, you want to scream. He's gonna be just fine. It's a flu, dude, its not the Bubonic Plague! But then you realize the sister call is just your warm up for the Momma Bear call. Of course, he's too sick to talk to her but demands you pick up every time she calls. So there you are reporting -- in painstaking details -- the last 36 hours of his flu, while he listens in making sure you're hitting all the highlights.

"Yes he's hydrating" you say. "No, he isn't coughing as much. No, his sinus pressure seems better. Yes, he's showered today. Yes, I've administered him a suppository in the last 6 hours. Yes, Mrs. Jones, I know he likes the back of his neck gently rubbed when he gets migraines!"

All Funny Guy is saying is: know what you're getting into when you're on vacation in Cancun . When things like "in sickness" cavalierly roll off your tongue, make sure you're directing that to a solid partner. Make sure he's there, not only when the sun shines, but when the sun burns. It's sort of relationship requisite: when he's sick you're tending to him like an octopus on crack, because he'll do the same in kind. You forgive his flu induced crazies and family concerns, as he will forgive yours. When it comes to the being sick, The Florence Nightingale Nurse Hat must hang in the front closet for both of you. Because as we all know, life doesn't just serve up cake without forcing us to occasionally eat poop sandwiches, too. So the "Fits All" nurse hat must hang there; right next to the adult pacifier, adult diapers and that lovely beach hat you guys bought in Cancun.