I fart in my sleep. There, I said it.
It's not on purpose, and it's not something I can control, it's just something that I have a tendency to do. I can't help it. On a few occasions I've actually farted so loudly that I've interrupted my slumber and then, when I remember that I have a guest in my bed, I sweat profusely, pretending not to know and keep sleeping, hoping and praying that I didn't wake him too.
I'm sure I'd be surprised how many men there are out there who actually refer to me as, "The girl who farts in her sleep," like we women refer to all the men we've broken up with for their own disgusting little habits. "The guy who chewed his nails to a bloody nub," or "not-so-simple chronic halitosis guy," or "Dr. Dan D. Ruff, the flaky scalp guy." The list is endless.
Which leads me to wonder, wouldn't it just be better for everyone involved if we just clued one another in on our yuckiest character flaws right up front? For instance, would it be so bad to go on a first date with someone and say, "Yes, I am from Las Vegas. I've been here my entire life. Seen a lot of growth. I'm impressed with the schools and disagree with people who question raising children here. Oh, and by the way, I fart in my sleep. Sometimes I floss my teeth in bed and when I drink beer I can, and usually do, burp the alphabet. As a matter of fact, can you pull my finger? These steamed veggies have got my intestines all twisted up. Ah, thanks, that's better. So, tell me a little bit about you ... "?
At the beginning of any new relationship, regardless of whether we view the person we are spending time with as someone with long-term potential or just a "fling thing," we have a tendency to adhere to an unwritten code of etiquette. We are putting our best selves out there as bait in an effort to catch our potential partner's attention and keep it.
When you think about it, isn't it sort of a scam? I mean we are essentially hoping that we will make someone like us when we aren't even being ourselves to begin with.
Once, a long time ago, when I was 22, I dated a man who went against the grain. It was as though he either didn't know about the unwritten code of etiquette that keeps us from farting, burping, picking, scratching in inappropriate places and saying inappropriate things right off the bat, or he just didn't care. He was Rudo McGrudo! He was gross. Disgusting. Rude. Crude. Socially retarded. At the movies, in the quiet darkness while I would sip my soda pop and quietly do that sneaky little burp thing that burns your nostrils and makes your eyes water, he'd belch so loudly that people around us would make comments. And I would think: Oh. My. God. I must break up with him.
Once, at a Mexican restaurant, after he'd shoveled his mouth full of frijoles, he had no qualms about doing the old left-cheek-lift and ripped a stink bomb so toxic I practically toppled out of my seat, light-headed from a lack of oxygen. And I thought: I must break up with him.
He had bad allergies and every morning I'd wake up to piles of boogery snot rags under his pillow and again I would think: For hell's sake, I must break up with him.
He didn't know how to hold his fork while cutting his meat, he talked with his mouth full, he referred to his manliness as "Lizzy," which was short for Lizard, and would say things like, "Lizzy needs some lovin'." He was a pig.
So, I married him. Because I loved him. And, because I knew right from the start what kind of person he was. He didn't start off as "Best Behavior Guy" and then slowly transform over time. He was who he was and that never changed.
Now that I've been single and in the dating scene for the past six years, I have to wonder, what's really so bad about showing all of your cards, good, bad or otherwise right off the bat? That way we could see what we are getting right up front and decide whether we can live with the other person's dirty little traits, the traits that are going to eventually show up anyway.
So why not just throw it out there in the beginning instead of wasting so much time? Armed with my new theory, I decided to put it into action. I picked up the phone and called Todd, my ex- boyfriend who, for some inexplicable reason, had recently called me to see if I would go out with him again. Todd, who after six months of dating "Best Behavior Sonja," couldn't commit and dumped me. Well, I thought if he couldn't love me then, I'm sure he'll get a kick out of me now.
"Hi, Todd? Sonja. Listen, I've been thinking a lot about us getting back together. I'd like to have dinner this weekend and discuss it. Saturday night? Great. I fart in my sleep. See you at 7."
"Seven sounds fine. How about sushi? I know you fart in your sleep. Should we see a movie too? I pee in the shower. See you Saturday!"
Oh. My. God. I must break up with him!