Ack, I’ve been gone so long! On top of work and "The Wire," I just moved into a new apartment so I’ve been a little helter skelter of late. But now I’m back with a bang! Or at the very least, an audible toot. This past Saturday I moved from Manhattan to Brooklyn, such a hipster now, and all went surprisingly smoothly. I hired movers, which meant I got to laze around eating cheese while other people did all the work. It was glorious. Plus, my gentleman friend B was up for the weekend to help, which meant we got to spend so much time doing nauseating coupley nonsense like shopping for linens at Target and building shelves and organizing my shoe collection. It was que romantique. And amid the domestic bliss we celebrated a major relationship milestone: I farted in front of him for the very first time.
I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, everyone does it (except Kate Middleton!) but ughhhhhhhh mortifying! As we all know and love, I’m not shy about discussing bowel problems and make frequent reference to my own debilitating digestive issues, but as much as I gleefully enjoy toilet humor, I prefer to keep my own toilet humours to myself. Especially in front of the one person I want to think of me as a perfect ladylike angel from heaven. Or at least someone he wants to bone on the regular.
Ok, it might not technically been the first time, but it was at least the first time neither of us was pretending to be asleep. I swear to God I could go days at a time without so much as a twitch of the intestines until I’m laying little spoon and suddenly it’s like all the Indian food I’ve eaten in my entire life has just kicked in. All the ladies know what I’m talking about, right ladies?!? (Ladies? No, just me? Someone please tell me this is a normal thing?) So there may or may not have been at least one other time where something escaped and then I just laid there pretending to be asleep, praying he was also sleeping or at least had the decency enough to pretend as well and never mention it again. So far, he has, but now I’m telling the whole internet and I’m sure he’s reading this so the jig is very, very up.
So after 6 months of sleepless nights and Bean-o, I finally broke the seal. We were rearranging my new bedroom, I was in the hallway, surveying from the outside in and he was standing just a few feet away inside the room.
“Hmm, let me think,” I said, pausing to observe our handiwork.
As I pondered the position of my bedside table he gazed lovingly back at me, eagerly awaiting my keen home decor insight and then a puff of air escaped my body and obliterated our tender silence. It was very small and did NOT smell but oh, there was no denying it, no passing the blame, no pretending it didn’t happen. He was looking right at me. Just staring at me, waiting for me to speak and instead, my hiney did the talking. We then stood, staring at each other, for a full hour and a half (at least!) while I considered my next move and he tried not to laugh at me. I should have taken the opportunity to bust out a Steve Urkel style “did IIIII doooo thaaaat?” but I couldn’t think quick enough. I must have tooted out all of my creative energy.
So blah, blah, it all ended fine, of course. B apparently found the whole situation to be adorable, but now I’m obviously panicking that the magic is gone. A friend of mine, who’s been in a relationship for years, told me that the magic stays until you pee in front of each other, so there’s always that to look forward to!?! I’m certainly making this more mortifying by telling the whole internet but you know what, someone had to do it! I mean, maybe (hopefully?!) there are millions of women laying awake right now fearful to break wind in front of their significant others who will read this and become emboldened and confident with their bodies and all things their bodies emit? I can be the change the world needs. I am the Mahatma Ghandi of female flatulence.
Ladies, get farting!
Gentlemen, you’re welcome!