It had been the same for my father and he had warned that it might happen to me too.
According to doctors the capillaries inside our noses are much closer to the surface of the skin than in most people. The problem might be complicated in my case by the narrow nasal passages I inherited from my mother's skinny nosed kin. I'm not certain why first make-out sessions made us particularly vulnerable to the nosebleeds, the inexpert mashing together of faces I suppose, but they were always a common reaction to buildings with dry heat and the change of seasons. By my second year of college I knew how to get them under control pretty quickly, usually within 30-90 seconds, but prior to that they could go on for quite a long time, draining me of a lot of blood.
Fortunately the room we were making out in was dark and the girl didn't realize what was happening, so I was able to explain what had happened and prepare her for what she was about to see when I turned on the light. Both of our faces, necks, hands, and shirts were warm, wet and red with blood. She hadn't really reacted to the blood until I told her about it, just kept kissing, which always make me wonder what she thought was happening. Fortunately that was the only kissing-related occurrence.
The older I get the less frequently they come. I suspect the fact that I'm such a fiend for staying hydrated has something to do with that. When they do come now, it's more likely to happen in my sleep. I'll wake up with that intensely metallic taste in my throat and realize I've been swallowing blood all night. Needless to say, I've had some spectacular horror movie nightmares on those nights.
So, this morning I woke up to the blood for the first time in years. It was a big one too, although fortunately I was immediately aware of it so I didn't ruin the sheets. It always feels a little ominous waking up to blood, but this morning it also felt nostalgic.