The Pharting Phase

I once set up an entire date, while I was on the toilet. Spoiler Alert: That date went to the shitter. Before you judge me about this, let’s consider the fact that we will each spend an average of 6,718 and ½ hours pooping over the course of our lifetime. (yes, I googled this.) That’s 280 days of pooping by the time we die. We humans, spend a lot of time shitting.

We also spend a significant amount of time at the beginning of a new relationship pretending that we don’t poop and that we don’t fart. Essentially trying to convince this new person that we are robots or that we have a broken digestive system. Unless the person you have started dating is not a person at all, and rather an alien from a different planet (clearly not Uranus) where they have completely different digestive systems, I’m fairly confident they know you poop sometimes and they know you fart—and they probably know it smells.

And yet, we still choose to place energy into hiding this until we feel “comfortable” enough to cross into the “Pharting Phase” of a relationship. This is where things have surpassed the honeymoon phase—when the person is shiny and perfect and can do no wrong, and turned down Shit-Is-Getting-Real Avenue. The first stop on Shit-Is-Getting-Real Ave. is the “Pharting Phase.” Usually, we enter the Pharting Phase in an unplanned passing of gas. This is to say, neither party consciously decides that one or both are ready to take the relationship to the next level, but rather someone lets one out on accident.

I once entered the Pharting Phase with a girlfriend while I was unconscious. There was a glorious 12 hours that I was totally unaware that we had turned down Shit-Is-Getting-Real Avenue before she said, “Oh! Babe! I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” I asked, not imagining everything would be different when she finished her next sentence. See, things are just never the same after you enter the Pharting Phase, it’s the first kink in the armor. You or the person you’re dating have just proven that you are not perfect, your shit does in fact smell. You’ve been found out.

“You farted in your sleep last night—it was kinda cute.” She said, with a sly smile.

“Are you sure it wasn’t Hazel?” I asked, attempting a last ditch effort to blame it on the dog.

“Oh, it was definitely you. You were sound asleep and then braaaahhhppp.” She said, complete with an imitation sound.

“Oh. Well, I guess the secret’s out—sometimes I pass gas.” I said, defeated.

The question is why do we put so much energy into trying to hide this from the people we date. The answer is that in some weird way, passing gas freely or allowing someone to know that your body produces actual bowel movements is a level of intimacy. It might be a real gross act of intimacy—but it’s still intimate. And being intimate and vulnerable with someone new is difficult and scary. It’s like the old romantic saying goes; 

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I think this is love

‘Cause I just farted in front of you.

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