My Other Half and I don’t go out that often these days. Kids, money, time … energy! Always a reason why it’s easier just to stay home and well … if you’re a regular reader you know some of the things we get up to.
Moving swiftly on …
When we do go out locally, we tend to go to our favourite Chinese restaurant. We’re in and out within the hour. Our record is 35 minutes. We like our food! We order the same food every time. Have one beer each. I have toffee apple for dessert (with ice cream, natch,) and my Other Half will always have to have one mouthful. One. What’s the point? He obviously didn’t get the memo that I don’t share food. Ever. Suffice to say, he won’t nibble my dessert again (fnar, fnar.)
The last time we went was three weeks ago. I’m never going again. Let me set the scene a little.
It’s a Sunday night. It’s nearly empty. Plinky plonk (technical term,) piano music is playing . There are two other couples in the restaurant, one couple sat on the table behind us, the other couple at the front of the restaurant. (We always get put at the back of the restaurant. Not sure what to make of that.)
So, OH and I are making chit-chat. Think we might have even held hands at one point, (always guaranteed to make the teen vom.) We’re catching up on each other’s weeks, speaking very quietly so the couple behind can’t hear. And then my Other Half farts one of those farts in the restaurant that is so incredibly loud, so unbelievably thunderous, you could have heard it from the next town. I’m amazed the windows didn’t shatter. It was one of those farts that most men like to squeeze out, knowing that the noise of the restaurant will drown it out. I saw the left cheek lift up. I saw the ‘fart lean’ as he thought he’d try to gently squeeze one out without anyone noticing. I saw it coming but prayed it would be a ‘silent not violent’ one.
How wrong I was.
I was mortified. Absolutley mortified. And I thought I was embarrassed when Skig caught us doing ‘it.’
“OK Kate,” I thought to myself, “… do what you usually do, give him ‘the look’ but as you’re in public, pretend nothing’s happened.” Except, as the restaurant was so quiet, everyone had heard.
And then I got the giggles. Real bad. You know when you have to be quiet, which just makes the whole situation ten times worse? Yeah, that!
So now my shoulders are going. I’m trying so hard to keep my laugh inside (and if you know my laugh, you know that’s going to be very difficult – think Sid James on acid,) and the tears are now trickling down my face. And the worse thing? The woman sat behind my Other Half has seen (heard and smelt,) the whole thing go off (literally.) She’s seen how hard I’m trying not to laugh which has now set her off.
So now there are two of us at it. Neither of us can believe quite how loud this fart was. We’ve all done it right? (apart from me – I’m a ladeeeee,) and my Other Half, being a bloke ‘n that, thought it was hilarious!
The waiter came round to see if we wanted more drinks, looked at us all crying and, not quite knowing what to do with this information, promptly left. Which made us all laugh even more.
It’s one of those situations where you probably had to be there, but just recanting it makes me giggle. And die a little more of embarrassment.
So be warned. Next time you go to a restaurant and it’s really quiet … be careful. And keep an eye on your Other Half for the ‘fart lean.’