January 11th was our third anniversary. We dated for two years so this year marks our fifth year together. I’m the quiet type but trust me I’m a storm around the people I love. It takes a very long time for me to trust people or be comfortable around them. When I met my husband and he proposed to me, I didn’t want to say yes and I didn’t want to say no. I liked him as a person but I didn’t see him as a person I can date. He didn’t talk much. He didn’t do much. Our typical chat reads:

Him: “Hey, how are you?”

Me: “I’m fine. How about you?”

Him: “I’m also fine.”

Me: Silent…..

Him: Silent…

Me: “So what’s your day going to be like?”

Then he would give me the round down of how things are going to be like for him. After that, the conversation ends. It worried me a lot. That I couldn’t bring my stormy side from the bag. We could be together and not say too much. We could go out on a date and not talk for hours after talking about how good or bad the food is. I told myself, “Nooo, I can’t be with a guy like that. He would end up killing my spirit.” I wrote him off even before he proposed. So I told him, “I’m not sure about us yet. There are so many things I don’t know about you so give me some few days or weeks to think about things.”

He called every day and asked about his proposal. It gave us something to talk about. Something to argue about and also filled our days with conversation. I decided I would give him a try but I didn’t want to tell him. “If I tell him, there would be nothing left for us to talk about. Let me hold it to my chest until we exhaust all the things I want to know about him.” I met him and asked questions; “Are you always like that?” He asked, “Always like what?” I mean you don’t like talking? Are you always quiet?” He answered, “Wait until we get to that carefree zone. You’ll get to see the raw side of me.”

So I said yes to him and hoped to see that raw side he promised. A year together, things were still the same. He would call and ask me to come around. I would dress up and go to him. He would hug me and make me a seat. After that, nothing. We could watch TV all night and not talk to each other. He couldn’t even ask for shuperu or do anything to imply that he wanted shuperu. The first time I initiated. The second time too, the same thing. When I stopped initiating, it didn’t bother him. He didn’t make any move to suggest anything. So I concluded that he wasn’t that kind of man.

One day I was sitting in the hall with him when I felt the urge to fart. I held on to it. For a long time, the wind didn’t leave me. It wanted to come out. I clenched my bottom so I don’t let it out in front of him. Then something struck me. I was like, “Wow, we’ve been together for two good years And I haven’t heard this man fart. Does it mean he doesn’t fart?” I started doing the maths, “How long did it take me and Akwasi to start farting in front of each other?” I counted the number of months on my fingers. “Just three months? OK, how about Daniel? How long did it take before my buttocks talked in front of him?” I counted on my fingers too. “Four months.”

And two years with this son of Adam without a windbreak? That’s some sort of record. But it wasn’t a record I could feel proud of. I was looking for the opportunity to discuss farting.  There are only a few incidents that bring about farting conversations between couples. You can’t just get up and discuss farting in a relationship. The occasion has to make sense before it comes up. I was waiting patiently for that occasion. When we watched a movie and I saw a couple together, I prayed one of them would fart so we could have the chance to discuss it. When I was in bed with him, I prayed he would do it so it can give us the opportunity to discuss it. Movie stars don’t fart so we couldn’t get our chance. 

And then he proposed marriage.  I said in my head, “How can I marry a man who doesn’t fart? No way!” He saw me smiling and asked, “Why? What are you thinking about?” I answered, “Nothing. I’m only happy that we are clocking this milestone. Marriage. Wow.” He said, “Let’s get to it. We can get married next year if we start the preparation today.” 

One day I asked him, “Ebo, do you fart? Yeah, I know every human being farts but do you?” He burst out laughing. “Why would you ask me such a question? Who in this world doesn’t fart?” I answered, “You. You don’t fart. We’ve been together for over two years. Not once have I heard you fart. What is wrong with you?” He was still laughing and all the while staring at my face like he hadn’t seen me before. He said, “But it’s the same with you? I’ve never heard you fart. Does that mean you don’t fart? I know you fart. Just that you won’t do it in front of me and that’s fine.” I told him, “So you’re saying farting in front of each other is something you won’t entertain? 

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Finally, we had the conversation I’d been dying to have with him. He said he wouldn’t have a problem if I fart in front of him. He added a caveat, “As far as it doesn’t smell bad and as far as I don’t hear the sound, I’m ok?” 

How is that even possible? Soundless fart? Scentless fart? That’s normal air we are talking about here. The air that comes from within comes with its own appellations—appellations you don’t have to be told before you know. So this is how I took it, “Thou shall not fart in front of me.”

We got married as planned. On our wedding day, I sat next to him with the wind up my ass. I couldn’t release it because I couldn’t promise it won’t make a sound and it won’t have a scent. I sat still with clenched buttocks until the service was done. And for the past three years, we’ve been together, I always sit next to him with a clenched butt because I don’t want to upset him. But I’m upset. Very upset with myself for putting up with this all these years. It’s even worse when I sit next to him in the car while we travel long distances. Eiii, it’s not easy ooo. The wind would build up inside of me but I can’t release it. By the time we get to our destination, I would be swelling like a balloon. 

I’ve decided enough is enough. I would shoot. But Before I break the farting fast in front of him, I want to be sure if it’s normal. Are there married couples who are experiencing the same problem I’m experiencing? They don’t take a fart and don’t give a fart? They are married and live in the same room but none of them fart in the presence of the other? Is it normal? 

I know some of you may say, “Of all the marital problems in this world, is that the only problem you have?”

Yes, that’s my only problem and it’s something that keeps me awake at night. Even when we are doing shuperu, I’m careful. I don’t do fart-friendly styles and at every moment in time, I’m very conscious. I don’t want to spoil the air and spoil the mood. So yes, it’s my only problem. I don’t have a cheating husband. I don’t have an abusive husband. I don’t have an irresponsible husband. I have a husband who doesn’t fart and also doesn’t allow me to fart. That I think can be equated to most of the problems in marriage. You’ve helped us solve big problems on this platform. This is also big—big for me so kindly help me solve it. Thank you.          

—Beckie 

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