When I first moved in with my now-husband, I had similar experiences as she's having now. Women who don't grow up with brothers, or who choose to live their life in the civilized world are often stunned into silence at men's love of disgusting bodily functions.
My husband, at the mature age of 43, still thinks farting is the funniest thing in the universe. After he lets one out, he can't help but grin gleefully at himself and the foul odor his body has produced. It is like a sense of pride. "*I* made the cat's fur blow off with my fart," that grin seems to say. "*I* destroyed all the oxygen in the room with my ass alone."
When his son is here, the farts multiply by a factor of 10. It is like some sort of competition to see who can stink up the house the most. My step-son also uses farting as a defense mechanism. If you wrestle with him and he is losing, he farts so foul that you can't help but run into another room, eyes blurry with tears, lungs gasping for air.
You can tell when a man has become used to you and has stopped trying to impress when he has no problem lifting up his ass cheek in an enclosed vehicle and letting one rip. This, my husband says, is a sign he loves me, because he can be himself and is comfortable with me. This, I say, sucks all my sexual drive out of my body and makes me want to puke on the floor mats as he locks the windows and laughs hysterically as I turn green.
It isn't that women don't fart. I have been known to peel paint off the walls. It is just that we don't think it is a "social" function that garners great conversation and wails of laughter. Whenever you get a group of guys in a room, there is no doubt that somewhere along the line they will compare farts and/or fart stories. When you get a group of women together, that just doesn't happen.
Women also have one kind of fart, while guys classify their farts. There is the broccoli fart, the beer fart, the Mexican food fart. There's the silent killer, the walking fart, the "oh my god I shit myself" fart. And the list goes on. Men also rate their farts for things like resonance, timbre, butt flappage and the time it takes to clear out a room. Women don't even understand this rating system.
Then there are boogers. At least boogers, while fun to say, are a more quiet vice for men. They may not laugh at them, but they also don't understand what the big deal is. It's snot, rolled up in a vile, slimy, green and yellow ball that came from an orifice. It was inside that orifice for a reason, I say ... so as not to be shared. Yet guys have no problem showing it to you or rubbing it on the driver's seat of the car or the side or a desk as if to say "I'm saving this for later." One ex-boyfriend argued with me that it was bio-degradable, so I shouldn't worry about it. But when my hand slips off of one as I grab the hand railing, I don't think about its place in the environment. I think about how I want to pour boiling water over my hands after I kill him.
I guess what they say about women being from Mars and men being from Venus is true. If so though, I'll stick to Mars. At least I can breathe fresh air and I don't get any boogers on me.
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