Sunday, 10 August 2014

To fart or not to fart? That is the question.

There's a Sex and the City episode where Carrie farts in front of Mr. Big for the first time.  He laughs straight away but his reaction leaves Carrie humiliated.

In true, female fashion she freaks herself out thinking that he will now lose interest in her and find another non-farting female. (Note: these don't actually exist)

She explains to Samantha what happened, saying: "It wasn't a choice, I'm a human!"

Samantha replied in her unique Samantha-style: "Men don't like women to be human.  We aren't supposed to fart, douche, use tampons or have hair in places we shouldn't."

We aren't supposed to poo either.



But most women do at least a few of these things - farting being a daily activity.

The sign of a good friend is being open enough to talk about natural bodily functions.  The sign of a best friend is not being afraid to display them.

One of my best friends once instructed me not to touch her or she would fart.  After bursting into a fit of giggles, I realised she was a friend I wanted to stick around.

But farting in front of a guy? WOAH.  Why is that such a big deal ?

Of course, farting on your one-night-stand while mid-spoon is probably not the best way to go.  (FYI, telling them about your little windy episode the next morning is probably not a good idea, either...)  That may send them running for the hills quicker than sitting in bed reading a bridal magazine the next morning.

But, following on from my blog last weekend about 'how do you know when you have found 'the one', I think feeling comfortable enough to fart in front of them is definitely a sign; for them as well as you.

It lets you both know that you feel relaxed enough to completely be yourself in front of him - something which you may not have realised until that moment.


The way I see it, it is too hard pretending not to be human.  If I feel comfortable enough to veg out in my pyjamas with my hair in a scruffy top knot and with no make-up on, you are already lucky enough to be in an exclusive minority.

Women have a tough enough time as it is keeping on top of hair removal, spot treatments, and concealing our eye bags without having to worry about holding everything else in.  

I obviously understand the rules of society and social norms and wouldn't fart in a lift or in any enclosed public space.  But with those people I feel comfortable around/love, with whom I must spend lengthy periods of time with little opportunities for a quick 'wind break'?  I can't hold it in that long, that just creates bloating problems and nobody wants that.



If you accidentally let one slip before you, or he, is ready - style it out and laugh it off, they'll react much better if you're cool about it than if you start to display signs of a mental breakdown.

Then, before you know it, you'll be weeing with the door open and shaving your legs on a weekly, rather than daily, basis.

Sunday, 3 August 2014

How do you know when you have found 'the one'?

Those of you who know me will know that I have never really been a relationship kind of girl due to my bad luck/choices with the male species.

Neither am I a 'woman of the world' with a colourful lifestyle, I'd like to add.

A few months ago I wrote a blog outlining the positives of being single for such a long period of time.  I was really just trying to justify my long-term single status to my dad & brother, who seem to have an unusually keen interest in my relationship status.  Don't worry, though, guys - I am quite alright, I know what I'm doing.

Reading back on that blog now, I have to smile to myself.  I still strongly believe that the moment you stop looking for something, or someone, you find it straight away.  But how do you know when you have found 'the one?'

I am guessing they don't wear a sandwich board with 'I'M THE ONE' emblazoned on it in big, bold, easy-to-read font which flashes in a multitude of colours.

Given that I don't live locked in a dragon-guarded tower, I can hardly assume the man who rocks up on horseback in full armour to rescue me is 'the one'.

Nor can I assume that 'the one' will appear outside my window with my favourite flowers and begin serenading me with my favourite Ed Sheeran song. (Note: my favourite Ed Sheeran song is Thinking Out Loud for future reference for anyone.)

It's also safe to say I won't receive 365 letters, one everyday for a year; especially as letter writing seems to have been killed off by the email and social media.

I doubt anyone is going to write me a song to let me know they are 'the one', and I can't see anyone hiring out a banner to fly across Selby or partake in a bit of sky-writing.

Hollywood and Disney have left me very unprepared for this moment of my life, creating very unrealistic scenarios which I can almost guarantee will never happen to me.

Let's be honest, if I went all Andie Anderson on a guy he definitely would not turn out to be 'the one' and I would probably successfully lose him in less than 10 days.  Of course, it helps that she is stunning and Benjamin Barry had an ulterior motive.  But, nevertheless, she discovered that even after her over-the-top baby talk and insensitive naming of his penis that he was 'the one' when he chased her down on his motorbike.  (Apologies for the How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days reference but that's one of my all-time favourite films!)

Walt Disney is the worst culprit, with Nicholas Sparks a close second.

If I lost my shoe on a night out, I can almost guarantee that the male who found it would do one of three things:
1. Use it as a weapon in a mass brawl
2. See how far he could throw it as a demonstration of his masculinity & sheer physical strength
3. Try it on when none of his mates were looking just to see what it would be like to wear heels
He certainly wouldn't be trawling the surrounding area with a search party to find out who the shoe belonged to.

Maybe I need to be looking for more subtle signs instead of the ones Disney and Sparks make us think are the right ones.  Romance isn't dead, it's just not going to be like a fairytale.

Perhaps it's just simple signs I should be looking for, like seeing something he would like and my thoughts immediately drifting to him; or being genuinely upset for him when his team loses, despite my hate for them and the constant joking with him about it; or not wriggling out of a night-time spoon, despite sweating like Lee Evans and him snoring in my ear, because my moving might disturb his sleep and wake him up.

Knowing that just hearing his voice will make me smile when I am in a bad mood; always getting butterflies when I see I have a text from him and when I know I am seeing him soon; and still laughing every time I hear the story he has told me countless times are surely more recognisable, realistic signs that I have found 'the one' than waiting for some grand, romantic, Disney-esque gesture that is never going to happen?

Disney never outlined any of the above in any of his romantic stories, neither did Nicholas Sparks, but that doesn't mean they can't be signs to us normal, everyday people.

Maybe one day I will be able to answer my own question but, until then, I will keep my eyes peeled for the guy sporting the flashing sandwich board while keeping an eye out for those more subtle signs.