Who Farted?

No. Seriously. I couldn’t figure out whether it was him or me.

For the last three weeks I’ve been in rapturous bliss. Not only because I’ve been living inside a bottle (or two) of Montepulciano, but also because I’ve been hanging out with a really dope guy. (I know, I’m gushing).

Our interests include:

a) Make people sick by the way that we look at each other
b) Drinking
c) Cooking for each other (Well, he cooks for me…not my fault he went to culinary school)
d) Spending every night together
e) Drinking
f) Saying things that we possibly half mean and making promises we probably cannot keep.
g) Drinking and then saying things that we don't mean at all and making promises we DEFINITELY cannot keep.

So, as you can see, this is a fast train to “Dude shoots wad too early on in relationship, Cookieface ends up on stoop smoking and drinking wine like a pirate sobbing to the homeless person rummaging through her recyclables.”

It’s a pattern but I can’t seem to help myself.

Anyway, last night we brilliantly combined a-g during and after the first double date I’ve ever been on with my best friend. Conveniently, her boyfriend not only works with my New BF, but they are also pretty good friends.

We went to dinner at an old school Italian red sauce joint in our hood where copious amounts of alcohol, garlic, and gossip were consumed. I looked adorable. No really, I wish I had a picture before I started drinking because I sort of looked like this girl (less goth), before I turned into this girl. (Again, less goth).

We gratuitously went out for one more, but I needed to go home so I could tell him how I was sure he was going to break my heart accompanied by the old “I think I’m falling for you.” In other words, it was important that we go home so that I could humiliate myself because that’s my favorite side-effect of drinking.

This morning I sort of half woke up to him spooning me. We sort of kissed and said good morning. It was lovely. I started to drift back to sleep when all of a sudden there was a noise and a vibration.

Startled, I woke up fully. Oh God, I whispered in my head. Did I just fart on him???

I began to get very hot. I have no idea if he noticed or if he was even awake. I started to sweat.

Wait though, I thought. Mine are usually much more intense. Or they burn so I know they are going to smell. This really wasn’t like that. Maybe it was just my stomach (or his) making a noise.

Or maybe it was him.

Honestly, I don’t even know if it was a fart. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all day.

And it’s not as if I can do detective work to get to the bottom of it. (No pun—no wait, always pun intended).