The Day I Almost Killed My Boyfriend

Otherwise known as my 24th birthday. (That was more than 10 years ago, folks.) I was reminded of this story on Wednesday night when I was having dinner with the book club and Kate and I shared tiramisu. I told them I had a great tiramisu story and here it is.

The summer before I turned 24, I was dating this guy. It wasn't a perfect relationship for several reasons including the fact that he was 32, not quite divorced, had two kids, and was a recovering alcoholic. He had a lot of good qualities but mostly things I can't mention on my blog. It was a good summer relationship and lasted only two months past my birthday.

Anyway, on my 24th birthday, he took me to a nice Italian restaurant that served dishes primarily family style. In my opinion, it wasn't the best choice for a romantic dinner for two, but at that point in my life, it was enough for a guy to actually take me to a restaurant with waitstaff. After stuffing ourselves on dinner, the waiter asked us if we wanted dessert. Boyfriend encouraged me to order something because it was my birthday so I ordered the tiramisu. And that was my biggest mistake of the evening.

When the tiramisu arrived, I suddenly remembered it was a family style restaurant with family style portions. So here I sat with a vat of tiramisu in front of me. Seriously, it was in a bowl that was at least six inches in diameter. Boyfriend started to laugh and said, "I dare you to eat that whole thing." Well, there was no way I was going to eat the whole thing in front of him, so I told him that he better help me or the rest of his plans for the evening would be ruined because I wouldn't be able to move, much less . . . well, you know.

I placed the vat in the middle of the table and he took a big spoonful and stuck the whole thing in his mouth. That was his biggest mistake of the evening. When I asked him, "How is it?" He frowned, swallowed and said, "What's in it?" I replied, "Mostly custard or marscapone cheese, ladyfingers, and coffee liqueur. Why?" He said, "Well . . . that's the first taste of alcohol I've had in three years." Oh, shit. I thought I was the worst girlfriend ever because I had pushed my boyfriend off the wagon. However, before I could apologize, he said, "And I think we need to go to the ER."

I laughed at him and said, "Well, that's just a little bit of an overreaction, don't you think? I mean, they probably cooked the alcohol and you just had a little bit . . . ." He shook his head and said, hoarsely, "No . . . we have to go to the ER because I am allergic to the eggs in the custard and my throat is swelling up." The rest of my birthday was spent in the ER with a barely conscious boyfriend and a boatload of guilt.

As I said, we dated for two more months after my birthday. It was never going to be a long term relationship but it ended because he bought me a vase and claimed it was an antique. When I saw the exact vase in Pier One a week later, I called him on it. He called me crazy. That was pretty much the end.