I sat on the bathroom floor. A world of cold, white surrounded me. My hands gripped the edge of the toilet. My stomach turned. My body ached. Chills ripped through me. I moved closer to the toilet and he stood a little closer behind me. Standing, ready and waiting. To hold my hair back. To do whatever I needed him to do.

This is what dating looks like. A pinpoint moment in an array of events. The responsibility of caring. The desperation of having chronic health issues. The pain of having your body so enveloped by its own detrimental mechanisms.

Wednesday, I found out some bad news. I didn't want to be alone. So I called the guy I'm seeing (recall, we call him Marvin for no good reason). Marvin told me to come over and greeted me with a hug. Just the kind of thing a broken heart needs.

We sat watching TV together for a little while. Idle conversation passing between us while my mind lingered on other things. Late in the evening, we headed to get chocolate milkshakes. The second best thing for a broken heart. My blood sugar was 113, so I took my 16 units of Lantus and 5 units of Humalog. It wasn't enough to cover the whole shake (it racks in at 76 carbs calling for 8 units of insulin). But it was enough to avoid a large peak and a giant drop in the middle of the night.

We stayed up talking for quite awhile. Neither of us were tired. And everything on my mind needed spilling and comfort. Ghostbusters was on. As I layed there watching this blast from the past, pain washed over me within a matter of seconds.

My left side was gripped in gut-wrenching pain. My stomach clenched and unclenched in waves of nausea. It was nearly unbearable. I curled and uncurled, trying to find something that helped. I had no idea what was going on inside of me. Food poisoning? Virus? Was this death coming to call me?

I made my way to the bathroom, gripping my side as I went. What was wrong? And what could I do about it? I checked my blood sugar. 153, perfect. What I was feeling wasn't anywhere close.

I asked Marvin to get me a Coke, hoping the carbonation might soothe my stomach and stop the chills that were hitting me like repeating brick walls. I slowly sipped it as I continued to sit on his bathroom floor. He stood over me, asking what it felt like and what I needed. Relief...I needed relief from whatever was racing through my body.

The pain peaked. The nausea got worse. I saw myself in the mirror: pale beyond all belief. Marvin stood guard until I told him that I'd be okay and he should go back to the movie. I layed out on the floor until half the Coke was gone and the nausea lessened.

This is what dating looks like in my life. It's racing to get a Coke when I nearly pass out in a Walmart motor oil aisle. It's kidney pain and malaise that leaves me sore company. It's being ready to hold my hair back when pain leaves me gripping the toilet.

It can't be fun to date someone who is chronically ill. It isn't easy to live it on my end; I can't imagine how difficult it must be to watch the girl you're dating pale and shaking for no apparent reason. I hate to put someone through this life, but I have to say it's an amazing feeling to be cared for.

I wish things could be different. I wish that I didn't have to subject every date to this ordeal that can be my health. I'm sure they have wished it at times too. The constant interference, the responsibility, the worry.

Unfortunately, this is how dating goes for me. It's a way of life that I have to adjust to. And a way of life that they have to understand and cope with. Neither of us may want to do it, but it's the only way to get through. Without someone who is ready and willing to stand guard, dating will never work for me. So I'm grateful for someone who is willing to do that even at the messiest moments.