Updated: Jan 27
“You farted and it stunk! Your butt was facing me, not even the other way!”
I woke up to his rampage about my farting and then bitching about my supposed persistent teeth grinding at 1am as the urge to pee forced me out of bed. I didn’t apologize as I almost tripped over the dog cages, per usual. “Welp, that sucks,” I answered as I teetered half asleep to the bathroom, surprised at my blunt reaction.
I’m sorry, do your farts smell like flowers? Highly doubt it. And to top it off, what did you expect would happen? You fed me expired salad from Target that was doused in dressing and two very mediocre burgers with a pint of ice-cream for dessert. That literally is a fart brewing recipe.
Two weeks, even a week ago, I would have been mortified if OCD Oscar had made that comment. Under normal circumstances where a lady, who sometimes does fart in her sleep, was called out for such an act - would undeniably and rightfully cause sheepish embarrassment. And if OCD Oscar was raised with even a fraction of gentlemanly behavior, would he even make such a comment to someone he was dating? Or semi-dating?
However, during dinner, where the expired Target salad was served, the topic of aliens somehow came up. “Wait, what?” I thought to myself as OCD Oscar explained that human races were actually descendants of various aliens who invaded Earth via spaceship.
“How else can you explain all the different blood types - and how they are so geographically clustered?” he asked, referring to how South America is mostly type O and the rest of the world is split up into A and B types (someone please Google this, I don’t have the patience).
“Christopher Columbus wrote in his journal when he was sailing around the world about something that he saw: an object resembling a giant ship that flew out of the water and into the air.”
*Cue obnoxious burp*
Interestingly enough, we haven’t done the dirty since that evening. Wow, wonder why?