My fart will go on

If I like you enough, you'd know.

And if I love you, then there's no way you'll miss it.

Unless there's something wrong with your nose.

Yes, take a deep breath. When I get really comfortable with you, I'll fart with abandon. And I maintain that there's nothing wrong with that.

I mean, you fart, I fart, everyone farts so there's nothing wrong with it.

Then again, if it's a case of you fart, I fart, and everyone farts AT THE SAME TIME, then it's a different story. It'd be the end of the story.

So don't recoil at the thought of my farting, because it's something very close to my, erm, heart.

Having said that, I stress that I do have nimble muscle control.  I can fart in staccatos if I want, and I can hold the fart in when necessary, trust me.

For me, most of my happy memories involve farts.

Once, I was in a bus with a few friends in Australia when a girl friend of mine quietly let one pass her gantry. We realised it seconds later, only when we started convulsing and nearly frothing from the mouth.

I three days never shit already, my girl friend confessed sheepishly, in between fits of giggling and gagging.

Then, there was the time when I stayed overnight at a friend's place. The three of us were chatting in his bed when I merrily farted under the blanket. It wasn't until one of them lifted the blanket that the smell drifted out as if we were under chemical warfare attack.

Instinctively, the two of them took cover -- by springing off the bed as if it were on fire. And we had such a good time guffawing non-stop for the next 15 minutes.

Till this day, we look back fondly at that memory.

In NS, I met my kryptonite.
I had one squad mate who'd employ a most disturbing method to deal with peoples' farts -- he'd comically take in deep, desperate breaths while others ran for cover.

Again, those were such happy memories.  

Which is why I'm writing this today.

I know it's not a palatable topic, but let me pooooot it this way - so hear me out.

I am glad I have friends with whom I can share the gaseous state of my dinner.

And if you're one of those, you'd have been through thick and thin with me, depending on what I ate.

Nothing beats being able to let it rip like there's no tomorrow, while you're in the comfort of your friends' company.

I feel so accepted.

To me, this is freedom of expression.

Granted, not everyone likes to play the gassing game like I do.

But it's the same principle nevertheless.

In my case, it's being able to fart freely around friends (and not fear about being attacked).

In yours, it could come in various forms: Being comfortable enough to dance like you're having fits in a club (and not worry about friends discreetly retreating from you on the dance floor).

Or feeling confident enough to heck it and hit those high notes at the KTV (regardless much your friends will squirm at it).

And most importantly, being able to make an honest opinion heard (and not worry about being judged by your friends).

If you have such friends, tie them up and don't let them go. These are keepers.

So friends who've smelled my farts, be assured. My fart will go on.