Back in the mists of time, when the love between Mr Wub Boo and I was blossoming, a dreadful thing happened. We were still at that loved-up stage in our relationship where bodily functions only happened to other people, so you can imagine my surprise when I was rudely awoken by the duvet being placed over my head and I was subjected to the most God-awful stink I’d ever encountered.
When I managed to struggle free and gasp for air, I turned my attention on Mr Wub Boo only to find he was fast asleep. As a Paramedic I knew enough tricks to assess whether he was faking sleep, and to my consternation, he passed every one of them. Nevertheless, regardless of whether a person is awake or asleep, when they Dutch Oven me there will be retaliation.
The next morning he tried to deny that he’d farted in the night, but was happy to accept high fives from his flatmate when I told him about it. As he was sitting on the couch, talking on the phone, I felt a fart brewing. Rather than leave the room to discretely let rip, I allowed it to build in intensity for a while before I stood up on the couch and farted on his head.
Instead of laughing at how funny I was, he looked so disgusted that I actually wondered if I had gone too far. Turns out he was a bit of a prude where farting and women were concerned. Of course that didn’t stop him from letting rip whenever he felt like it now that our relationship had entered the I’m-comfortable-enough-in-your-presence-to-fart stage.
One day a group of us were hanging out having a drink or ten, when the blokes started having a farting contest. They thought they were hilarious until the girls joined in.
Not only can we girls fart with the best of them, we have the added advantage of being able to do some pretty spectacular queefs when doing shoulder stands (this is why we don’t like men joining our yoga classes).
Over time Mr Wub Boo and I have got so used to each others farts that we don’t really notice them any more.
That was until just recently.
Over the last few weeks the Dutch Ovens have resurfaced – the difference this time being that he is most definitely awake, as proven by his girlish giggles as I gag on the unholy stench. Slapping the crap out of him hasn’t dimmed his enthusiasm for smothering me in his gaseous emissions so there’s only one thing for me to do. Today I started my ultra-high fibre diet…
Two can play at this game honey!