1st Kiss vs 1st Fart

 

1st Kiss vs 1st Fart
9 October 2014

Now this is true.  What causes more stress and discomfort, when entering a new relationship?

The first kiss?  Or the first fart?

Most likely, this largely depends on the sex of the person.

Now I can’t really answer for men.  Obviously.  But in general, they seem to encourage bowel movements of any kind.  And see them not only as a victory, but as a measure of manliness, and virility.  It truly boggles the mind.  Flatulence is celebrated.  Heralded as acts of greatness.  Boasted about.  Greatly admired.  And worse of all – shared.  With pride.

They’re pretty indiscriminate with their audience.  Anyone is fair game.  And they’re not really selective about venue or place either.  Quite literally, the world is their oyster.  Many have a fondness for confined spaces like cars.  Or open public spaces too.  I’ve often wondered if they’re similar to dogs, in that they like to mark their territory? 

Now I’m quite naturally not referring to my gentle and “sweet” smelling man.  Or not only to him. My family is rife with men.  Generally, they rejoice in farting.  Crude but true.  Don’t believe me?  Just ask the long suffering women in my family.  The wives, husbands, and sisters.  They’ll concur. 

As for women?  We don’t share the same enthusiasm as men.  We don’t celebrate flatulence.  We ignore it.  Pretend we don’t do it.  And simply never think about it.

The first kiss in a relationship is very special.  Hugely much anticipated.  Especially by the ladies. 

It is dreamt about.  Savoured.  And over the years, often taken out of the memory bank, and recalled with fondness.  Usually with a great deal of embellishment added for good measure.

I can’t exactly recall my first kiss with Grant.  I’m assuming it was pretty terrible.  Most likely uncomfortable and new.  Noisy.  All awkward and nose-bumpy, as we had to find our rhythm.  Our angle and our perfect head inclination spot.  In addition, we were rather young.  And I was probably a bit of a kissing novice.  I mean, how many boys have you kissed when you’ve just turned seventeen? 

But as for the first fart?  Well, Grant claims that it happened one night when we were sleeping. 

Yip, rather convenient if you ask me.  As I can’t defend myself.  Most likely he made it all up.  I was unconscious after all.  Defenceless.  Perhaps he imagined it?  Is he really a good character witness in the middle of the night?  It could’ve been a dream.  And surely he was unconscious too?

As for him?  Well, naturally I may not reveal the exact details.  Suffice it to say, that it involved a spade.  And jumping.

And I still laugh to this day, when I think about it.  And so does he. 

Which is pretty darn perfect.  An odd but special memory none the less. 

And isn’t it just true of true love.  A patchwork quilt of memories, all sewed together with love.  From the silly to the serious.  Special one and all.

Thus, for that simple reason, I cherish it all.  The first kiss and the first fart.  Yet, because of the laughter, and the shared embarrassment, the fart sticks out by far.

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