My father would have died rather than fart in front of anyone (my mother would have gone one step further and murdered all the witnesses – no I’m just kidding). The first time I met anyone who just let it rip, I was impressed – but a bit taken aback. Here’s this hulking African-American guy pretty much levitating himself off my bed with the force of his rectal explosions…and he doesn’t even say ‘pardon me, ma’am!’. It was a revelation.
My African-American was soon followed by two other boyfriends wildly disparate in intellectual capacity and follicular gifts – but both able to blast off methane missiles like North Korea having a Show and Tell Day.
So now I’m single and all by myself and you know what, I’ve finally learned the joy of farting. If you’d challenged me to let off a trombone five years ago, I just couldn’t have made myself do it – even my arse would’ve crossed its metaphorical arms and zipped itself firmly shut. Don’t get me wrong, I could release a room-clearer as well as anyone – I just couldn’t do the loud and proud.
But I’ve got older and less genteel since then. So now I add the ability to fart whenever I feel like it to all the other advantages of being alone – of which, I’ve gotta tell you, there are quite a lot.
More of that some other time. How about you? Are you alone? Do you like it? What do you reckon is the best thing about being All By Yourself?
Rose invents new genres one book at a time. If you want to check out her novels, stories and semi-fictional memoirs, they’re ALL on sale for this week ONLY (99 cents) – they’re all HERE. Sale ends 15 May.