Last night, while I was trying to come up with the perfect topic for today’s blog, I asked Matt what I should write about.
My brilliant, sophisticated, lawyerly husband responded: “Write about when you start farting in front of your friends.”
“Seriously! Guys fart in front of each other all the time. Do girls? Do you fart in front of your friends?”
“My really close ones,” I said. “But no, usually not.”
When it comes to bodily functions, I’m not modest. Close friends know I’ll talk about toilets all day long. That said, I’m pretty sure no one comes to this blog to read about farts, so I don’t want to dwell on flatulence.
Yet there is something to the question of when, in a friendship, we get to a place where absolutely nothing is off limits.
In my own friendships, it doesn’t take long before I’ll say anything. My thoughts escape my mouth long before I have time to decide what’s appropriate.
When it comes to doing anything, that’s where I get shy. Back in the days when Truth or Dare was actually something we played at parties, I always always always picked truth. I had nothing to hide so I was willing to open up. (And besides, that Skeletons in the Closet 90210 episode with Kelly Taylor’s bulimic friend was totally awesome television.) But potentially taking on a dare and making a fool of myself? That was terrifying.
It’s funny. Like Matt said, guys will burp, fart, whatever, in front of each other without giving it a second thought. But when it comes to opening up emotionally, that’s where they get uncomfortable.
With girls it’s the reverse. We’ll tell someone our life story before we’ll feel comfortable getting all gassy in front of her.
I wonder why that is. I’d love to say it’s just because girls are classier, but there’s more to it I think.
Wait. No. Maybe there isn’t.
Given all the measurements of closeness I’ve toyed with throughout this blog—the last-minute-brunch-date comfort level, the why-do-I-have-four-jars-of-pickles phone calls, the would-I-ask-you-for-a-ride-to-the-airport scale—it seems that an am-I-willing-to-let-one-rip-in-front-of-you barometer is just wrong. And yet, at least for women, I do think it represents an entirely new level of intimacy.
As I get further along in this search I’m starting to feel like Barney Stinson, continually coming up with new theories that seem inane until, upon further review, they appear totally logical.
After all, admit it. You only fart in front of your most favorite friends.
On Monday, I will return to the classy stuff. But for now, for Friday, let’s open ourselves up to some toilet talk. Especially since my oh-so-mature husband might have had a point.
Tell the truth, do you fart in front of friends? Could feeling comfortable in a gassy situation be the ultimate sign of close friendship? Or should some lines never be crossed?
And then enjoy this bit from the master of random theories himself, Barney Stinson. Happy Friday!