I had met my wife’s (then girlfriend’s) parents once or twice before Christmas. However, I didn’t really get the chance to meet the rest of her family or really them, for that matter. So, when my girlfriend asked me to come over for the holidays, I thought it would be fun.

Okay, something quick you got to know. My family doesn’t celebrate holidays. I mean, we used too but after awhile, we just got lazy. So while we might go somewhere nice to eat on Christmas, we don’t exchange gifts. And for some dumb ass reason, I didn’t consider buying her family anything until I was an hour away from her house.

Shit.

So, I quickly get some gifts from a shop that is surprisingly open. However, this place was just a step above a gas station. The mom got an ugly Chrismas pillow and the dad got a collection of shot glass. I gift wrap in the car and drive the rest of the way… not even realizing I forgot to get something for her brother.

So, I get there, put the gifts under the tree (I notice eight gifts for me…) and I try to play it cool. I seem to be making a good impression and by the night time, I think I’m golden. I go to sleep with dreams of sugar plums and fairy —

FUCK! SICK! ABORT!

I wake up on Christmas morning, projectile vomiting. All over this family quilt thing. And I run to the bathroom, puking along the way. Lucky for me, no one woke up. I do my best to clean everything and go to bed for another hour.

I wake up to Santa going round two to my stomach. I sit up and puke again. My girlfriend runs in, sees me, and helps me clean up. I make her swear she won’t tell anyone. I get up, take a shower, and by the time I’m out, Christmas breakfast is beginning.

I make it through the breakfast but as we sit down at the tree to open presents, I lose it again. I’ve never puked that sloppily in my entire life. I was like a fucking sprinkler during summer. Her mom screamed and jumped back, only to hit the couch wrong and topple over it. I run for the bathroom, and there I am for fifteen.

When I get back, I’m ashamed. The family cleaned up my vomit and tell me it’s okay and that I should lay down. So I do.

Christmas dinner is around the time I wake up. I’m sweating, shivering, and I barely remember I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend’s grandparents tonight… they had driven five hours to meet me. I stand up, get dizzy, and some how end up on the floor. Where I decide to close my eyes for a few minutes….

I shit myself.

I am not kidding. One minute I’m sort of zoning and the next, I feel this intense stomach cramp. Then I just shit myself. I lay there in my own shit for a minute as I hear the family outside laughing and spreading the cheer. They are loving the holidays and the togetherness. I, on the other hand, am hating everything about this shitty situation.

I text my girlfriend cause that’s all I can do. I say “I had an accident. Come in her”. She comes in and asks where the puke is. And I just close my eyes, take a breath, and mutter, “I shit myself”.

So… My girlfriend helps me out of my pants. And gets me some wipes. And I’m so fucking sick that I’m not even sure I’m wiping correctly. And the entire time, my girlfriend is in and out of the room, throwing stuff away and grabbing more stuff. I hear her grandparents and parents talking about what’s going on. At one point, I hear a knock on the door and it’s her mom. She wants to check on me and my girlfriend screams ‘Do -not- come in’. Which, of course, is the reason she comes in.

So, my girlfriend and her mother are in the room with a very sick me, trying their best to ignore the smell. Then I hear the fire alarm — the mom had forgotten to take something out of the oven because she was trying to help me (The good news was nothing was burned, but it’s fun to add to the story).

By the time Christmas ham is being served, I’m back in bed, muttering my apologies.

The next morning I wake up… and this is the worst part. I wake up feeling okay… so I thank everyone for the lovely time, say I have a work emergency, and bolt. Just fucking bolt.

God, I hate Christmas.

Someone on Reddits meet the parent story.