If You Can Smell Each Others’ Farts and Still Have Sex, You’ll be Okay.

Sometimes I do this thing called ‘free-writing’ to help me out when I am working on a writing project. Have you ever done this? You basically just write down whatever comes into your head, however gobbly-gook-ish it may be. It is super helpful and feels freeing (true to the name) because it is a chance to shut up that pesky editor voice that can linger in the back of your mind while working. Recently, I did one that turned into some back story narrative and decided to just go with it, and try to re-visit the going for gobbly-gook thing later (because going even further and not making any sense does actually help and take your mind / writing words to some cool places, so it is nice to challenge yourself to keep going beyond if something like a narrative situation starts to happen).

I was hoping I could work this back story into the novel I am working on at some  point. Right now, I don’t know if that will happen, but I feel like I need a place to put it for now. So here it is:

Hope. Comfort. Love. Feeling good. Not vomiting all over her husband when the real connection of true love physically realized occurs. It feels cheesy to say things like ‘true love physically realized’ when what I mean is sex. But for some reason, it is hard for Liz to think in just that word, ‘sex,’ because her experience in the past has been just the physical side, and in an ugly way. Now, she wants to move beyond just the physical. She wants her husband to love her, to accept her, to be patient with her, though she fears she may lose him. They just met! What was I thinking? Yet at the same time, they know each other so well. ‘When you know, you know,’ she always heard people say that, but thought it sounded like hog-wash – a word her mother would use – until she experienced it herself. This person who was so warm, loving, she could fart the stinky-est fart around him, and he would think it was cute.

She couldn’t poop at his place when they first started dating. She didn’t want to make his bathroom smell and have him associate that with her. So she would always hold it, wait until she got home which totally backed her up. One night, she stopped at a gas station on the way to Gavin’s place to use the bathroom and her system was so messed up nothing would come out! When she got to his place, she could feel the gas pressure filling in her belly, like a balloon she just wanted to pop and let the air release and watch the rubber fall and relax. She thought if she could just fart, she would feel so much better, so she went into the bedroom while Gavin was in the kitchen, closed the door, and farted. She would have held it in if she knew how smelly it was going to be. She left the bedroom, closed the door behind her, hoping to contain the stinky-ness. But it wasn’t enough. A few minutes after joining Gavin in the kitchen, where he was popping popcorn for their movie night, he scrunched up his nose and sniffed. ‘Aw, what is that?’ Liz blushed and went to the refrigerator to retrieve the butter, but there was no hiding. When Gavin connected the dots, he looked at her, ‘Was that you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Liz closed the fridge door, her cheeks reddening as she kept her gaze on the tile floor, mortified. She looked up when she heard Gavin say, ‘Nice,’ and he held up his hand in request for a high five. A smile overcame her blushed face and they both laughed harder than she ever remembered and she felt safe. She felt safe with this man. She knew she could be herself, show all sides and he would love her. She realized then what was missing in her life – true connection.

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