I've got a few embarrassing stories, all with one common theme: passing gas at inopportune times.
The first time this incredibly embarrassing thing happened to me, I was with my ex. Let's call him Shane. Shane was the typical bad boy/jerk/asshole/cheating boyfriend that I think every girl dates at one point in her life. He was gorgeous, liked his girls skinny and toned, and was total trouble. As it turns out, he's gay now, but that's beside the point.
For reasons unbeknownst to me at the time, Mr. Shane rarely wanted to have sex. (Totally great for my self-esteem, right?) One of the few times he actually blessed me with his sexual attention (can you read my sarcasm?) and was focusing his attention DOWN THERE, I farted. We were totally in the heat of the moment, too.
Can you believe it? HOW EMBARRASSING!
Needless to say, all sexual activity ceased immediately and we never spoke about it again. I might've felt better if Shane could've at least laughed about it, but he didn't. I know it was awkward, but silence? Was he kidding? We never had sex again and eventually broke up.
On to the next occurrence...
One might think that God wouldn't make me go through something like this again, but one would be WRONG. One night, my next boyfriend and I were in the spooning position, seconds away from drifting off to sleep, when suddenly, BAM! I farted again.
This wasn't a "cute" little girly fart either, but a full-on, fraternity-contest winning fart that, looking back, should've blown him right off the bed. Our relationship was new and this was only the the fourth time or so I had slept over his place, so I prayed to God that he was a deep sleeper and already off into dreamland. When I quietly turned my head around to see, I saw that he had a huge grin on his face and was trying hard not to laugh.
Since I had no idea what to do, I quietly said, "Um, excuse me," which caused him to start laughing (in a fun-natured way), which caused me to start laughing, which caused me to fart again. My boyfriend was now so hysterical that he was struggling to breathe. Fearing that I might fart a third time, I tried to stifle my giggles as I once again said, "Excuse me." Eventually things calmed down and we were able to fall asleep. Fortunately, he still wanted to be my boyfriend after the night's episodes, and we went about our lives happily and fart-free until...
Things between us got to be pretty hot and heavy. Once I felt comfortable enough with him to really let loose in the ole bedroom, I did just that. It was somewhat quiet and didn't smell this time (you gotta thank God for the little things, right?), so my boyfriend laughed and continued on with his activities.
This second boyfriend is now my fiancé, and we look back on these instances and laugh. Since we've been together for a while and live together, I can fart freely without feeling judged. (Don't think I do that all the time, though - I promise I'm not a gassy person.) I like to think of my farting as fate telling me that I have a good guy - is that dumb?
I hope you like my embarrassing memory and it gets me a copy of your book. I love the one you've written because I can totally relate to it. By the way, my number is 15 (or is it 14?), and I'm in the middle of my own "Save the Tennessee Tooter" financial crisis right now.
