I’m the opposite. My witching hour is the hour after I wake up. Apparently I don’t fart in my sleep so I wake up inflated like a parade balloon. I greet the morning with my very own greatly protracted rendition of reveille.
It used to be a big problem for me, but my most recent partner was just like “just fart”, and then would giggle like a schoolboy every time I did, which took all the pressure off (literally and figuratively).
One of my favorite memories was kissing my partner, hard, because, well, we were really turned on, and there was a fart. We paused, I arched my eyebrow and a smile, back to the mad makeout session, and then I farted. It then became a game for the next ten minutes of who could fart while not stopping the liplocks.
Accepting that we’re biological seems to make everyone happier, and much gigglier.
I’m the opposite. My witching hour is the hour after I wake up. Apparently I don’t fart in my sleep so I wake up inflated like a parade balloon. I greet the morning with my very own greatly protracted rendition of reveille.
It used to be a big problem for me, but my most recent partner was just like “just fart”, and then would giggle like a schoolboy every time I did, which took all the pressure off (literally and figuratively).
One of my favorite memories was kissing my partner, hard, because, well, we were really turned on, and there was a fart. We paused, I arched my eyebrow and a smile, back to the mad makeout session, and then I farted. It then became a game for the next ten minutes of who could fart while not stopping the liplocks.
Accepting that we’re biological seems to make everyone happier, and much gigglier.