"After a few months I began to entertain a previously unfathomable thought; maybe I should consider ending the relationship. It was a shocking revelation I could barely qualify in my own mind. Here I was a meek and shy teenager interminably desperate for the affection of girls, and now I was contemplating biting the hand that fed me. I was a starving Ethiopian, about to throw away my only morsel of food.
Her parents left town one weekend and I reluctantly agreed to shack up with her. We had engaged in a particularly vicious fight the previous evening over the misconduct of my peer group, and the next morning I awoke resenting our relationship. It wasn't her fault; I wasn't a rat she had cornered and beaten with a stick. Rather, I was a rat willingly residing in her cage and tired of performing tricks for cheese.
As I stared at the ceiling, Tracy rolled over in an effort to cuddle with me. Perhaps she was asleep or perhaps she had contorted herself in just the right manner, but nevertheless I heard a abrupt noise emanate from behind her as if someone had just drop-kicked a small goat. The sound was unmistakable; she had farted.
Previously I had lived in a delusional world where women didn't have this issue, and even if they did it sprung from their bodies in the form of festive, shimmering maypole ribbons that might smell like fresh pie. This was not the case as evidenced by the reaction of her cat, who immediately contracted his ears, stood up, andexited the room as if late for a pharmaceutical conference.
Tracy's eyes shot open and met mine, and all I could do was explode into laughter. I had never heard a girl fart before, and haven't heard it since. She was mortified. "It's not funny," she said, "I don't feel good." It was funny and she knew it. She started laughing for a moment, but then began to pretend like she was crying over her laughter in an attempt to toss a little guilt my way.
It was a brilliant show, her puppy sobs countered with her crocodile tears. After about ten minutes and some considerable effort, she was finally able to muster a tear, but I was nonplussed. No one cries because of a fart, and from that point forward I accepted her tears for what they were worth; a tired effort to further manipulate my behavior."
excerpt from: why women hate men.
omg, silvershinigami, ty for posting that link. seriously. *is STILL dying*
