Hello Lovely Ladies!

You know you’re comfortable with your man when…

I love me some blue cheese!

Now this could be good or bad, it could go either way. For me, well, it was bad. I had a SEX & THE CITY moment this weekend. That is, something happened that was in an episode of that hit show, but in my version it was grosser.

Remember when Carrie is in bed with Mr. Big and she….well……farts. She freaks out and then runs out and dresses as fast as she can and is gone. It is embarrassing and funny and incredibly human. We all have done it (I think). And it’s something we all try to hide.

When you are first dating a guy, you try to act like a doll. At least, you know you are supposed to. A doll always looks great. A doll does not burp or have lip hair or have chipped nails or get food in her teeth or snore or do anything that might offend. I remember when I first started dating my husband, I would eat so delicately and never be hungry and always wore cute outfits and all that stuff. But there is a point where your comfortableness takes over and you just don’t give a shit. Like Friday night, when my hubby came home from Seattle and I hadn’t seen him all week. I didn’t feel the need to change from my oversized shirt and comfy shorts. Why? I did make sure my teeth were brushed and my hair not in too much of a mess – I’m not totally lost.

Anyways, I guess it’s safe to say that we are comfortable enough with each other to be ourselves, bad habits and bodily functions and all. But this weekend, I really worried that perhaps I went to far.

We decided to make hamburgers on the grill and I sautéed some beautiful Maui onions to put on top. The hubby asked if we could put blue cheese on the burgers and I said HELL YEAH! So he made the burgers with blue cheese in the middle and OH MY GOD were they good. I mean, moaning and eyes rolling to the back of the head good.

After dinner, we snuggled up on the couch and rented BITUFUL with Javiar Bardem. On a side note, I do not understand why women find him sexy. I think he has an oversized head and neck of a Neanderthal. Go look at Darwin’s chart and you will see my point. He looks so scary to me – all hairy and snarly looking, like a wild animal. I just don’t get the hype. But he is a terrific actor. So, we’re sitting there all lovey dovey and cozy and I well…….fart. I must preface this by saying that I have always had a sensitive stomach and there are many things I probably shouldn’t be eating including stinky, strong cheese. But I do because I’m just a wild woman that way.

Crime Scene 1

There is no sound. My farts are usually silent and this one was too but the chemical warfare I created was outstanding. The husband grimaced and said “Peeeeeeeeee Youuuuuuuuu!” I was MORTIFIED. This is not the behavior of a lady. This is the behavior of some 300 pound, sweaty man with a glandular problem. I shrieked in agony “YOU were the one who wanted blue cheese! My system doesn’t like blue cheese!!” And that was that. He held me closer and we finished the movie. But the story does not end here.

As we got ready for bed, I brushed my teeth and all that and got in bed and waited for the hubby who was doing his flossing which he loves so very much. As I was sitting waiting for my millow (man pillow – I have no idea how I slept without him), I did it again. I farted. I frantically flapped the sheets, trying to make the smell dissipate as quickly as possible before the hubby got to bed. My dog Winnie looked at me like I was nuts. She is so smart.

The hubby came in and was about to get in bed, but then walked over to the window and opened it. “What are you doing?” I asked. I wanted to know if I did a bad job of hiding the evidence. “Oh, I just thought we could use some fresh air.” And he looked right at me and grinned. The jig is up. He got in bed and I should have known right there that everything was okay. If he really had a problem with it, then he would have said something mean or ran out of the room, or told me to sleep it off in another room, or packed his bags and moved to Tahiti. Hey – all are possible. He pulled me to him and snuggled up but I was still traumatized. What is he thinking of me? Does he think I am disgusting? Does he still love me as much as he did pre-farts? I was completely out of sorts. I turned to him and cupped his face in my hands and said “Honey, do you love me?” He replied “Yes.” But that wasn’t enough. I had to know more. “But do you still love me, blue cheese and all?” He looked at me, with that same soft, and clear look and laughed and said “Yes, darling. I still love you, blue cheese and all.”

And so we went to sleep.

If you think I am gross, well, you and I BOTH know that you my dear, have farted.