Thursday, 24 April 2008

'Mr Sex': Smell The Love

I saw a couple of my mates last night, who had been dating for a couple of years before they moved in together a few months ago. Consequently, we hadn’t seen them knocking around for ages, so when they turned up at the pub out of the blue, nervously flashing eye contact with each other like a bust pair of disco lights, it was obvious that An Announcement was afoot.

He went first. “Well, you know me and Kaz have been together for a while now…and…well, we want you know that…” and then he sputtered into nervous laughter as we all leaned in.

Kaz took his hand reassuringly. “Tony and I…we’ve been talking about it for a while, and we’ve decided not to put it off any longer. We want you to be the first to know. We’re farting in bed.

With that, a yelp of glee went up. Some of the females in the party squealed like cats in rut (although one of them had to be taken to the toilets in floods of tears later on in the night; she’s been with her bloke for four years, and he still refuses to even discuss the possibility, the poor cow), while us males thumped Tone on the back for doing the decent thing. When I got the chance, I put my arms round both of them and said “I knew there was summat going off between your two…”

Let’s face it; in times like these, what is the one act that truly binds a couple together? It’s not marriage any more; couples are getting divorced quicker than the pattern on the bequeathed dining set goes out of fashion. Sex? In a world where a frenzied rubbing-together of genitals in a club toilet is seen as an acceptable part of a Friday night? I think not. No, nothing says “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, O Soulmate, enjoying the rich bounty of our love and sheltering each other from whatever misfortunes Life has to throw at us” than ripping one off under the quilt without fear of reprisal.

According to medical surveys, human beings fart on an average of fourteen times a day. Until they start a new relationship, when it decreases to one. That lasts for about 5 minutes. In a bathroom. With the taps on at full pelt and the window open, with you wrenching your arse cheeks apart and jumping up and down, before pegging it back to the boudoir. Then, in the morning, when one has to leave and the other stays in bed, and words of love are softly exchanged, both of you think “Thank fuck for that” and let off a gargantuan chuff – one in an empty bed, the other just outside the front door. We’re happy to open the skeletons of our closet – all the wrong shags and abusive relationships we put ourself through, our credit situations, our drug histories – and yet we find it hard to confess that we need to expel a compound of carbon dioxide, methane, oxygen, nitrogen and hydrogen, just like every other animal in the world.

Obviously, this is no way to carry on. I blame the media, myself; their silence almost suggests a conspiracy. Why hasn’t Cosmo or Men’s Health commented on this subject? EastEnders has covered adultery, teenage pregnancy, same-sex marriage, mixed-race relationships, child abuse and almost every relationship ailment under the sun; where was the episode where Ricky accidentally took the bedsheets off with a trouser-trump, leaving Bianca to deal with the horrible truth about her partner? Why has Trisha remained silent on the matter? What has she got to hide?

If you’re in a long-term relationship and you still haven’t reached the FIB stage, I strongly advise you to have a word with yourself, because you’re storing up a gutful of misery that could spill out at any moment. I had a friend who managed to overcome this barrier, and could quite happily let it all out without guilt. In fact, it got to the point where, when the mood took him, he would lie in bed with his paramour and spit into the air, forcing her under the sheets, where he would let rip with gusto. My advice; don’t be like him. There’s such a thing as going too far.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward immensely to Tone and Kaz’s forthcoming party, where they will celebrate their commitment to each other with a buffet of mushy peas, beans, curry and cider. When Kaz places her hand on Tone’s when he holds that knife, and look into each other’s eyes as they ceremonially cut a wheel of cheese, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back the tears.

12 comments:

Angela-la-la said...

My man took precisely two weeks to get to that stage but me? Never, never, never!

Well, except in my sleep. Or if I can get away with pretending to be :)

badgerdaddy said...

My fantastic wife has a great story about being in bed with an ex. She had tried very, very hard not to fart around him (and she is a champion burper and farter), especially not in bed. One night, a huge noise woke her up out of her slumber, and she asked him, all worried: "Did you hear that? What was it?"

"Erm, I think it was you..."

When we got together, FIB happened even before sexing, as I recall. Now that's intimacy.

Anna said...

X) That's hilarious and true, thank you! My beloved and I are not quite there yet, but maybe I'll send him this post and see what happens...

Anonymous said...

Never mind the good lady herself, you know you're in good books when you can get away with it in front of the Mother-in-law.

Claire said...

One time my ex was giving me a cuddle and a fart just came out of me. We were at the stage of avoiding it around each other but not too fussed. Anyway he was so pleased with himself he keep squeezing me to see if he could make it happen again.

lalita said...

Great post! It's really a problem especially that at the beginning of a relationship when I'm more nervous around the other person it manifest itself through increased activity of my gastrointestinal system.

I don't like the idea of FIB and think that there should be some physiological secrets that we keep to ourselves. My ex, however, was really taking it to the extreme. Each time he went to the toilet for number two, he would open the tap and keep the water running throughout the procedure. It annoyed be a lot. It was as if he announced "I'm shitting, can you hear the water? But lets pretend I'm just washing my face." Not too mention the cost of water and environmental concerns resulting from such prissy behavior. I tried to break the barrier but he seemed shocked at the faintest suggestion that I might have physiological needs too..

Canuckian's Evil Twin said...

Hahaha, great post! I've always been a big believer in being comfortable enough to fart in front of your significant other - I too think that being able to do that is one of the biggest signs of intimacy and commitment a couple can have - I swear you were channelling my brain when you wrote that post!

I'm all about being able to fart in front of good friends too. I warn them beforehand of course, as that's what good friends do. :o)

Queenie said...

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! That has to be one of the most beautiful love stories I have ever heard.

I am delighted to say that Stripey and I reached the FIB stage a long time ago. And come to think of it, I think I shall fart right now. Hooray!

One Fine Weasel said...

man that's just beautiful...!

there is a certain freedom in being able to let rip without shame or fear of abandonment in front of a partner.

that said, however, my ex-who-remains-a-very-close-friend used to pin me down and fart at close range on my head. funny (the first time), but i'd still prefer to be one of those girls guys want to buy diamonds for :/

Alistair said...

girlsdon'tfartgirlsdon'tfartgirlsdon'tfart
girlsdon'tfartgirlsdon'tfart lalalalala i can't hear you...

PDisco said...

Wow. I'm really shocked by this. I always thought that FIB was the international signal a man uses to tell a lady that "Yes, you are my girlfriend", and is always the first committment a man makes. It appears I'm much more forward than I ever gave myself credit for.

Ladies - there's nothing more natural than a man finding farting funny. Use this to your advantage. Don't be repressed, build it up, let nature take it's course and let rip.

Anonymous said...

Bloody funny post -- but so true!