Now That I’m Married, Is It Okay to Fart in Bed?

The search for true love starts with the quest for a tall, shaggy haired man with soulful eyes, and ends with just finding a man to fart with.
Publish date:
February 1, 2015
relationships, honesty, married life, farting, Jennifer Lawrence, ibs

Now that I’m married, is it okay to fart in bed?

Manners dictate that farting in front of others is rude and in bad taste. Thankfully, this isn’t an article about being in polite society; it’s about marriage.

When you take those vows to be with your significant other through sickness and health, that includes bouts of food poisoning, IBS, and fiber supplements. Unless you are a Stepford Wife, flatulence is a normal and vital part of your body’s function.

If he loves you, let one rip. If he comes back to you, he’s yours. If he doesn’t, he never was to begin with.

When I first got together with my boyfriend (now husband), I never would have dreamed of passing gas in front of him. In fact, I never allowed him to know that I grew pubic hair, had ear wax, or had a collection of period underwear.

I can remember one of the first times we went away for the weekend together. We drove to a beautiful resort town where, unbeknownst to us, that same June weekend was graduation party headquarters. Every restaurant, street corner, and motel was overrun with swarms of raucous high school graduates.

Ditching our romantic plans, we cocooned in our room with a couple of bottles of champagne and burritos. Due to extraordinary luck, we caught the pilot episode of a "Twin Peaks" marathon on SyFy Channel.

After the first bottle of bubbly, my stomach started to percolate. We were in extremely close quarters in our suddenly too-small motel room. We had only been dating for about four months, and I was determined to hold back.

My stomach was fully expanded and it took all my concentration to maintain composure. How could I care about Laura Palmer’s fate, when my own was suddenly so precarious? I was sweating, willing myself to let out little puffs of soundless air as I curtained my torso tightly with blankets.

Suddenly, my husband remembered something he left in the car. Thank God! I let my sphincter finally relax. If anyone had been outside the door, they would have thought I was setting off fireworks inside.

My sigh of relief lasted only for a split second, before I had to get to work frantically spritzing and fanning the bed area. I opened a window, close to tears, and wondered how I would make it through the next 48 hours.

How did I get so neurotic? I grew up in a non-farting household. Truly, I don’t think I have ever heard my mom fart. Farting, pooping or periods were basically off limit subjects. “Dad’s in the bathroom and he’s going number 2,” was pretty much the extent of it. It’s no wonder that I currently struggle with constipation.

I survived a fart-free weekend with my loved one. But, there would be no way of moving forward in married life if I was clenching my bum cheeks all day and night.

The best course of action is to wait long enough into the relationship that the barriers have already started to come down. He knows what your face looks like in the morning without makeup, and he knows if you were stuck on a desert island you’d have a mustache and a caveman brow.

There’s no hard and fast rules, but I would say around 6 to 9 months of closeness. The first times it happens, laugh it off and gauge his reaction. If he’s disgusted and attempts to a) leave the room b) retch in the toilet, then you’ve been warned. Break the engagement off immediately and be happy that you did.

When you can chuckle heartily about it together, you are on your way to total fart freedom. In the marriage bed, each fart is a sign of trust.

Recently, I’ve been diagnosed with IBS and dairy intolerance, which are actual medical conditions that have ramped up the fart factor in my house. And my husband, god bless his soul, is often times in the odor vicinity. But, would I apologize if I was bleeding profusely out of my head? No way; so I won’t apologize for this medical ailment either. An “Excuse Me” will be have to suffice.

In marriage, you are showing your vulnerabilities, surrendering your masks, and attempting honesty with a partner who will really know you. Farts and all.

There’s an opposing opinion that once you start farting in front of significant other, it proves that you are no longer trying to impress them and possibly not interested in appearing sexy to them anymore. To those opinions, I give a loud pffffffffft!!!! An actual human woman is much sexier than some sort of fluid-less, needless fem-bot.

Sure, farting can ruin the mood, but it signifies human behavior. And if you find yourself married, and unable to admit to flatulence without falling into a shame spiral, then there is some self-love that needs to be worked on before finding true love with another. All that said, I draw the line at Dutch Ovens.

The very feminine Jennifer Lawrence in a November 2014 interview with Vanity Fair, said, “I would just rather have somebody that has the same taste in reality TV and, you know, isn't afraid to fart in front of me than to have big, passionate love.”

The search for true love starts with the quest for a tall, shaggy haired man with soulful eyes and a big bank account, and ends with just finding a man to fart with.