Like most things in life, passing gas has its time and place. However, I never imagined that an untimely fart could potentially derail my destiny. But it can, especially if it’s the third date with the man of your dreams and it makes his eyes water. If fate meant for us to be together, one silent but deadly fart (SBD) almost ruined everything.

The Beginning of a Love Story

It was about five years ago. I was trying to shed a few pounds and had cut out carbs from my diet. That’s when I met my future husband, Rob. On our first date, he immediately booked the next two. He liked me. I liked him. Everything seemed perfect.

He picked me up in a sleek Cobra Mustang. His attempt to impress me with his car worked like a charm. I’m not shallow, but after spending most of my twenties picking men up in their non-air conditioned, rickety old cars, I welcomed the fancy sports car with open arms.

We arrived at the restaurant, and Rob ordered food I hadn’t allowed myself to eat in years. Not wanting to seem high-maintenance, I indulged. We ate, drank, and had a great time. Later, we went shopping, and Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes I had been eyeing. Was this love?

The Gas Attack

Then it happened. Gas can strike in two ways: uncontrollable toots or sharp, stabbing pains. I was experiencing the latter. Trying not to make a scene, I told Rob I wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home.

On the drive back in his Cobra, Rob tried to hold my hand and ask questions, but I was in too much pain. It felt like tiny forks were stabbing my stomach. Then I realized…

Oh no. I had a horrendous fart brewing. I was in big trouble.

The more I held it in, the more pain shot through my body. I was practically lifting myself off the seat, gripping the door and dashboard.

“Seriously, you need to hurry. I’m in a lot of pain,” I managed to say through gritted teeth.

“Wow, is it that bad? What’s wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

How do you tell a man you just started dating that you’re in agony because you need to fart?

The Unavoidable Fart

You can either tell him or, like me, let the fart do the talking.

There was nothing I could do. Despite my impressive sphincter control, this was beyond me. Slowly, it eked out. To my relief, it was silent. I sat there, sweat forming on my upper lip, hoping I was in the clear. Then it hit me. Not an idea, but a cloud. A horrific, fart cloud. Not in a “did someone fart?” kind of way, but more like a “is there a rotting corpse in the trunk?” kind of way.

Panic set in. “Roll down the windows!” I screamed, like I was in a horror movie.

“What? Why?” Rob asked, starting to panic because I was panicking.

“I can’t roll down the windows, unlock it! UNLOCK IT!”

“What’s going on?” Rob yelled, then it hit him. I could see the realization in his eyes. Was it surprise? Horror? His eyes watered. “Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT!” he screamed.

“Roll down the windows!” I yelled as the toots started to escape uncontrollably. I clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped. Rob, in his panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window.

It was chaos. We were acting like we were under attack. Finally, Rob found the right control and rolled down the windows. We both gulped in fresh air. I was mortified but relieved to be alive, though I remembered I just farted on the man of my dreams and wished I were dead.

The Aftermath

We drove home in silence. Although the pain had subsided, I now desperately needed the bathroom.

Rob pulled up to my apartment, and before he could come to a stop, I jumped out. “Thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes!” I ran into my apartment like I was fleeing the scene of a crime.

I burst through the door and made it to the bathroom just in time to unleash sounds no one should ever hear from another person.

Then I heard Rob’s voice. Right outside my bathroom door.

“Anna? You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open. Where should I put them?”

“Get away from the door!” I screamed like a character in a horror movie.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

toot toot splatter ungodly noise

“I’m fine, Rob. Just leave the shoes there. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay, are you sure you’re …”

“I’m fine! Get away from the door!”

This man! I loved him, but seriously, take a hint!

Finally, I heard the front door close, and the Cobra engine roar away. I thought that was the end. How could I ever see a man again after he screamed he could taste my fart after only knowing me for 48 hours?

The Unexpected Outcome

But to my surprise, I did see him again. A couple of days later, actually. Now, we’re married, and he’s lying on the couch while I type this. “It was your rack that saved you,” he just lovingly reminded me.

Well, thank you, boobs. You saved us. You saved our destiny.


In the end, it turns out that even the most embarrassing moments can lead to a happy ending. Love can withstand many things, including a poorly timed fart. So, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, remember this story. Love, humor, and a little bit of luck can turn even the worst date into a happily ever after.



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