I went out to lunch with my friend D last week and told her how much I’d love to go to Chipotle, but that I’d been forbidden to eat there after the last time I did and then gassed my husband for the following 12 hours.
She laughed and then said, “You sure do talk about flatulence a lot.”
I said, “My house is ALL ABOUT flatulence. Isn’t yours?”
She then revealed that, unless under dire circumstances, she and her husband of two years do not fart in front of each other! When the occasional toot slips out, they joke about the “barking spider,” but that’s it. Either they eat a low-fiber diet, or they can withstand the pain of pent up gas jabbing at their insides much better than I can. She went on to tell me that they did not even pee in front of each other. I was astounded.
While Mike and I don’t sit on each other and fart (as D said her parents did to her), we usually just let them rip when the pressure builds up. We fart in the car, in the theater, while watching TV, sometimes even at dinner. We do have some courtesy. In bed, we warn the other to “batten down the hatches” before releasing gas. In the car, the offender rolls down a window. Recognizing that gas (and elimination in general) isn’t sexy, we hold them in when we do the horizontal mambo.
As for peeing, I don’t give it a second thought. I’ll pee in front of Mike, my friends, my family. In fact, I’ve rarely even seen the back side of our bathroom door. We usually leave it wide open, along with the window. We do close the door if we go #2 - we aren’t completely uncivilized!
Or are we? Of the two or so people who read my sporadically updated blog, how discreet are you about bodily functions? Are Mike and I Neanderthals?