In Your General Direction

16 Feb

I was waiting for a cab the other night in the freezing goddamn cold when a man walked by me and passed gas. Like, the wind was howling and I heard this fart. Did I mention he was carrying two bottles of Mountain Dew? Because he was. He was, you guys.

It felt like this snap judgment on me, by him. Like, in this moment I have decided that you are not important enough to NOT fart in front of you, so I’m going to do this. This is going to happen. God forbid I wait the 10 steps to get to my car and fart so you don’t have to be assaulted by my biology on a Saturday night.

I was wearing a dress so pretty and expensive that I don’t even fart in it, let alone let it around stranger gas. Never mind that I never once committed the grievous error of passing gas in front of my ex-husband (SIX YEARS), because the times I was allowed to have an actual butt were not for my benefit.

I’m not a prude. I don’t even care how people comport themselves, as long as you don’t count “judging furiously” as caring. But we’re part of a society and things are already getting pretty weird because of the Internet. We need to maintain the precious few boundaries we have, even if they are ephemeral to begin with. Jesus.

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