the In-flatulist: the dangers of dating while farting

There are some dangers of dating and being human. You might get caught picking your nose. You might get dehydrated after a particularly raucous bout of fucking. And you might go out for a meal at the beginning of a date that would cause you to fart by the end. Hi. I'm Pumpernickel. I fart. And it's been an issue.

I offer up exhibit A: it's a Michael Gondry short that a teeny, tiny woman hepped me to. 

Gondrey points out the site where most of the hard times happen: in bed. I spent years developing painful techniques so that I could have overnight guests. After a while, pulling aside one ass cheek or waiting for my partner to fall asleep began to feel like denial. I decided to give in to the final corporeal comfort and start disclosing at any costs. As you might imagine, this wasn't always well received.

At one time, I was dating the most phenomenal guy. At eight months, I was blue in the face from with-holding farts around him. He was pretty much the essence of cool and I got the silent but deadly message that farting was off the table. When I broached the topic, he told me that I was free to fart around him but he wouldn't fart around me. *Sacre Bleu!* For me, this was like saying: go ahead, be imperfect, but I won't join you there. I sought advice from one of my dearest friends, a sweaty freak, who understood that whenever I inhaled oxygen, it induced farts in my ass. He was newly married at the time and admitted that he wished there was still the chance to rewind the clock and gain back some of the mystery. This I could get on board with. I am a disclose-a-holic. I want my partners to see all my worst parts early so that they can opt out if they want to. Maybe I get this from my brother who told me that he tried to fart on every first date. He said that it weeded out the weak.

So what's the middle ground? One month? Two months? A verbal warning first? A jog out of the room and a laugh from the hallway each time? I still struggle to know.

I've also dated folks that whenever sex queefs and sex farts happen, they're just another reason to high-five. What Mike Gondry calls "girlfriend type-III." While revealing your inner-self and your inner-stink are two different things, I think there's also something that connects the two. Farting may not be romantic, but it is pretty funny. The folks that i most want to beast with are folks who can laugh with/at me like a friend. 

I remember a poem from my high school literary magazine that was titled: It's As If Everyone Wanted To Pretend They Smelled Like Nothing. This continues to stick with me. There's a real divide between folks who want to act like they don't shit, like they don't bleed, or grow hair, or have bad days, or wear make up; it's as if everyone just wanted to fade into the background. I don't love that I'm a fart-machine, well, no i kinda do. But I acknowledge that the only people who might be into it are the one's who bookmark Cakefart. However, there's something i like about someone who celebrates le petite mort with a little smell of death on top.

pumpernickel releasing a wicked one at dyke march