He fouled my nest

I don't have any recent dating stories to tell, but I do have one from Friday involving a barely-dressed man in my bed.  (Don't get excited, it's not one of those stories.)

So there I was, at home alone on a Friday night at 1am, tootling around the internet trying to find an apartment.  I was dressed in a sundress that I think was on its third wear, and my hair was especially dirty -- not expecting company, obviously.  Then out of nowhere, a knock at my door.  I just assumed someone got lost on their way to the party down the hall, so I didn't even look through the peep hole.  But it wasn't a party-goer.

It was Dan.  We used to be neighbours until just over a year ago, but now we're mostly just Facebook friends.  He's also the guy I'd call if my computer started acting weird.  (Everyone needs one of those friends.)  Anyway, Dan is a bit of a weekend partier, and the fact that I now live in the club district near all of the bars hasn't escaped him.  Sometimes he crashes on my couch -- no big deal.

Anyway, I opened the door and I swear the smell of booze hit me before I fully recognized him.  He stumbled in with a bottle of Brio, barely managing to kick his shoes off and sit down.  He looked like he was heading to the couch, so I figured he'd be passed out in no time.  I left him alone to begin my bedtime routine of showering and teeth brushing, and when finished, I came out of the bathroom to a seemingly empty apartment.  Did Dan leave?

Nope.  Found him.  He had stripped down to an undershirt, boxers, and tube socks and was sprawled out face first on my bed.  Now, ordinarily a woman who finds a good-looking, half undressed guy in her bed might be a bit excited.  But my first thought was "Damn it get off my duvet before your stink gets on it!".  Priorities, am I right?  I yanked him up into a sitting position, the first step to getting him out of my room, when I heard him mumble something that sounded a lot like "garbage can".  JESUS ROLLERSKATING CHRIST!  I barely had time to shove my waste paper basket under his chin before he started vomiting.  IN.  MY.  BED.

At that point all I could do was hold the garbage pail until he was done.  I did eventually get him on the couch, after putting down a drop-cloth, and got him some water.  He passed out again within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.  Poor Dan.  At least he had the courtesy the next morning to take his puke bucket with him.  Oh, and he left me $5 to buy a new one!  Enough to buy a new basket AND some Febreze, methinks.