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Auntie SparkNotes: Can You Mix Dating and Flatulating?

Auntie SparkNotes: Can You Mix Dating and Flatulating?

Hey you guys! I'm taking off early for the holiday weekend, so this will be the last Auntie column this week. Happy Memorial Day, and I'll see you (and your burningest most embarrassing questions) right back here on Tuesday, May 29th. Oh, and speaking of things that are embarrassing and burning...

Dear Auntie,

I'm writing to you because I have a problem (obviously), but it's a 'problem' that everyone has but nobody talks about: butt burps. Yeah, I think you get what I mean. Namely, when is a good guideline to play the trouser tuba in front of your S.O? I know there's a Mr. Auntie Sparknotes, so is there ever an appropriate time to release a squeaker? Or are some things better left unsaid, or rather, unheard?

Also, if we accidentally beep our horn, do we apologise or excuse ourselves? It's all a very complicated business that no one talks about. So can you shed some light on the parties in our pants?

Yes! (And then I might as well quit and go become a goat farmer or something, because there will never be another question as good as this one, EVER.) And as for your question: the answer is no. It is never, ever, EVER appropriate to fart in front of your S.O.—so duct tape your butt, clench like the dickens, and pray that nothing ruptures.

The end.

...Just kidding!

Because, okay, I don’t know if there’s every such a thing as an “appropriate” time to blow your butt-trumpet? (Unless, of course, your livelihood involves performing a rousing anal rendition of “La Marseillaise” for an audience of adoring fans.) But let’s be real, it’s also one of those things that your body just kind of does, without regard for whether it’s appropriate or not. And as such, depending upon your own fartistic temperament, it may not always be possible to excuse yourself before cutting the cheese... and that brings me to one of my favorite stories about this subject ever, in which a friend of mine, after a few promising dates with a lovely young lady, told her that he had to talk to her about something important—and then sat her down, looked deep into her eyes, and said:

“Darling, I fart. I fart a lot. And if I have to hold it in every time we’re together, I’m going to end up hurting myself.”

Which, of course, the lady in question totally understood, because people who like you do not want you to damage your sphincter on their behalf—and which also brings us to a good rule of thumb: namely, the time to let one rip in front of your S.O. is when you can’t not do it without seriously inconveniencing or injuring yourself.

That is, until you and said S.O. are cohabiting, married, or otherwise comfortable enough together to dispense with politesse, at which point the time to let one rip is whenever the hell you feel like it... unless you suspect that you’re about to release something particularly malodorous, in which case you should leave the room for the sake of everyone's olfactory comfort.

Or, alternately, yank the covers over your S.O.’s head and laugh hysterically while screaming, “Do you smell what my butt is cooking?!”
...Not that that has ever happened in my household.

And as for what to do in the aftermath... well, it kind of depends on you, your S.O., and whether or not your relationship dynamic is based on a mutual appreciation of fart jokes. (If not, then just say, “Excuse me,” and leave it at that. If so? Well, see above.) But at the end of the day, a person who cares about you will understand the occasional (or even not-so-occasional) trouser cough—and a person who can’t deal with the basic functions of the human body should not be dating human beings in the first place.

Alright, your turn: have you ever beefed in front of an S.O.? Tell us in the comments! And to get advice from Auntie, email her at

Related post: You Did Something Embarrassing and Now Your Life Is Ruined

Topics: Advice
Tags: auntie sparknotes, relationships, dating, awkward situations, farts!, embarrassing situations, farting

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About the Author

Kat Rosenfield is a writer, illustrator, advice columnist, YA author, and enthusiastic licker of that plastic liner that comes inside a box of Cheez-Its. She loves zombies and cats. She hates zombie cats. Follow her on Twitter or Tumblr @katrosenfield.

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