The time I was almost murdered- by sister

My first significant boyfriend was a Mexican engineering student. 

Like all young couples who think they are in love and plan to be that way forever, there was the inevitable meeting of the parents.  The Mexican’s mom, half sister, and stepfather lived in Connecticut, and we were in Massachusetts and carless.  That meant this his mom picked us up on Friday and brought us home for the entire weekend.  Awesome. 

Mama Mexican definitely thought she was the cool mom.  She let us sleep together, and even though I was only 19 she was big into me joining in the household drinking.  The Mexican was so excited for me to try his mom’s home cooking, particularly her “Chocolate Chicken” (for those of you who are not exposed to the Mexicans that is actually called Mole).  When I came in I thought it was so cool that she handed me a drink right away and was cooking this huge family dinner.  My family isn't huge into big family dinners like that so this was new to me.  She served us all instead of us getting up and getting our own food, which was also VERY new to me.  We had a nice time.  Step dad looked at me a little too much, sent some uncomfortable vibes, but what can you do?

In the middle of the night, the vomiting started.  I did not sleep at all.  The Mexican kept wondering why I did not want to do the elicit, dirty sex on the parents’ pull out couch thing.  The next day, the mom continued to hand me drinks.  This started at “Happy Hour” which was apparently a big thing in this family.  When I said “no” to drinks, the Mexican said it was rude not to take what she offered, and she kept making me concoctions with orange juice.  Have you ever spent a day throwing up and said to yourself hmm... time for some OJ... preferably with vodka?  I guarantee you have not.  The vomiting continued through the entire trip.

By the time I got to my parents house on Sunday, I was completely gray.  My mom look at me and then made me go to the hospital.  The gave me two bags of fluids.  I went to the doctors 4 times that week.  My doctor made me take a pregnancy test, because all teenage girls who throw up  are pregnant, obviously.  They sent those results to my parents, by the way.  Luckily, I convinced my mother I was still a virgin- manipulation on my part or denial on her part, I don’t really care either way it worked.  I lost ten pounds that week.  The end diagnosis was food poisoning. 

There were a few fun parts, though, to that whole week of vomiting.  First, my lovely mexcian at one point accused me of fooling around with his roommate, who had mono.  (Mono! I wish!  I have been trying to get mono for years- I hear its the best diet ever!)  Secondly, once I felt better and could visit him, he LOVED the fact that I lost ten pounds!  Where were his priorities?  I was in the hospital for goodness sakes!

I never came out and told him his mother gave me food poisoning, but he stopped asking so I am assuming he got the idea.  For a while, I really thought I may be allergic to Mexican food in general- but now it is legitimately my favorite kind of food, so I am holding firm that the bitch tried to poison me.