Difficult Conversations and the Art of Over-thinking

Someone (alias provided to protect his reputation) farted on me today while sleeping. It’s normal. I get it. We all fart. So… why did I go through a see-saw of emotions while weighing the options of bringing it up in my head? The fart lasted less than minute. I ran through whether to bring it up for what seemed to be several minutes, if not hours.

Is this important enough to bring up? If so, will it start a fight? How can I deliver it in a way that doesn’t cause a rift in our relationship? Most importantly, why am I overthinking the conversation about a fart? This isn’t war strategy or an epic novel. It’s a mundane fact of life.

I embraced my inner Mae West and let it rip. “Honey, I know you didn’t mean to, but you farted on me while you slept.” My goal was to pave the way for a future discussion about how I really don’t like his butt touching me while I sleep. After all, I now had proof and a reason. “Oh, I didn’t know”, he responded. “Sorry. Really? I’m truly sorry.” He apologized.

“I know you didn’t mean to.” I replied. “I’m just glad you didn’t gamble and lose,” trying to make light of the situation. “Are you calling me old?” as his face grew redder. He was mad at me again. “I mean…at our age, our bodies… well…I meant it’s natural.” Mission not accomplished. Now he’s butthurt and I didn’t get a chance to request his sleeping position change because I’m the jerk. After all, I’m an ageist in his eyes. To me, he’s happily deluded and doesn’t want to acknowledge our bodies doesn’t work like it did in our twenties.

What if we broke up over a fart? What kind of story would I tell future relationships? Would they look at me like I’m a jerk? “Irreconcilable differences,” I would say. They would give me that probing look like, “What’s wrong you that you’re not telling me?” Okay. I’ll give it up.

“He farted on me while sleeping. But there’s more…” Yep. Future relationship, no more. Red flags popping up everywhere. “Oh, um, I forgot…I had something to do”, prospective future boyfriend would say and get the h*ll out of the date.

I’ve now spent a half hour writing about a mundane aspect of life that really didn’t deserve more than a passing thought as it passed onto my back and diffused into the surrounding air. Still no resolution.

I’m no angel, either. I’ve committed a similar offense while he was awake. Yep, while awake. It’s criminal, I know. He’s brought it to my attention…more than once. Mostly when he wants to cuddle and I don’t have the nerve to tell him, “that Mexican food didn’t sit right with me.” He’d take it as rejection of him or his tastes, a personal affront. As if his restaurant choice meant he was plotting to personally give me epic gas.

I’ve said, “sorry”, in response to his confrontations. He said, “It’s fine.” Yeah, okay. I’ve utter the words, “It’s fine” more than I’d like to acknowledge. Translated, it means, “It’s not worth fighting over.”

It’s not really fine.

An hour of reflecting on a fart. There are people solving world problems. Not me. #overthinkerproblems