Successful Partnering

I always wonder how I will be like in the event of finding my true spouse. I wonder whether I will be able to act in the insane ways that I currently do without feeling a sense of shame.

But most of all, I wonder whether I will have both the courage to be able to release flatulence in their presence or the ability to withstand the releasing of their flatulence without ending up with an upset stomach and a foul mood.

"This is about those less than ideal moments, 

the times when we're simply human; 

a loosened booger, trap-door opening and closing 

with every breath, 

[...] conversations on a toilet? 

If you can't love me in this awkward speech, 

just live in this filthy, stinky moment, 

what are you gonna do when it really gets bad? 

Will you still love me?"

The performance poet, Jesse Parent, always tends to nicely and expressively and satirically lay down my thoughts and make them appear as foreign to me as a friendly stray cat is to an unfriendly stray dog. In the above quote, taken from the above video, he states in a flawless manner the importance of being with someone who accepts you as a fellow human being, as a person prone to sickness and a person with a working digestive system that will most likely interrupt conversations.

I suppose, then, the day that I fart by accident and another person farts back to relieve me from my public humiliation will be the day that I ask them to be my spouse. For if I fart and they fart then the ice that exists within the broken ice that cannot be broken, will break, and from it, a successful, smelly, shameless relationship will spawn. 

source

Istanbul

source

Marriage is a funny thing to watch after the couple has been together for over twenty years. Shame is eliminated, and aspects of jealousy turn into products of hilarity. 

This is highly the case with my parents. They have been married for over twenty-two years now, me being the product of their sensational honeymoon. I can recall one recent night when From Russia with Love was on the television, and after a copious amount of intimate scenes, my mother thought it necessary to reflect on one of her marriage proposals.

James Bond had happened to be in Istanbul, and that kicked off my mother's story. 
"He promised to take me to Istanbul as a honeymoon. He said that if I accepted his hand in marriage we would leave right away."
My father was quick to inquire before my sister and I. It was as though his ears perked up at the sound of this treachery. "Who?"
My mother laughed to herself. "You wouldn't know him if I said his name!"
He tried again, this time a little more frustrated than the last. "Who is it?"
My mother gave up and surrendered to my father this mysterious man's name. "Josef."
"Josef?" my father erupted into laughter. "Josef! Josef backwards is fart, 'fes-we' in Lebanese, means fart! You were proposed to by a fart?"

My mother laughed. "The power of jealousy!" she exclaimed, "you are so jealous!"
"I'm not jealous!" replied he. "At least my name isn't fart! Go to Istanbul with fart, I don't care!"

It is interesting how despite the lengths you make in life, your past always lurks in your subconscious. Your past always has a way inside your current life - if you are smart, though, you laugh your past off and leave it hanging around in Istanbul, awaiting your arrival that will never come because you are far better off in Melbourne, Australia, honeymoon-less and farting along with and on your spouse as the rest of your family members crawl off into the distance, suffocating.