Let One Go

Does he like picking sea shells on the beach or does he pick his nose? Is he an “I love my mom” type or does he google dark jokes about feminists? Does he like cats or is he in love with his car?

She wondered.

Are there skeletons in his closet or does he have a jumper gifted by his ex? Are my secrets safe with him or does he share my photos with his friends at the bar? Did he just flip a strand of hair off my forehead or does he do that to all girls? 

What if he isn’t sharing everything about him?

Is it his perfume or has my olfactory senses assigned a certain smell to his skin? 

Does he need a haircut? Should I tell him? What if his good looking colleague with pretty eyes has already told him? 

What would he think if I sounded too eager when he invited me for dinner the first time? What if I don’t go? What if he meets somebody else at the restaurant?

What if we don’t go for a walk together? What if our hands touch? What happens when we are out of touch?

What if he is taken?

What if he is possessed?

Is he looking at me? Does he look at others? Is somebody seeing him?

Is he the one or should I wait?

She was confused.

And he was right there, looking at her over the sandwich he was eating. With the mayo trickling down his fingers. 

“He doesn’t even know how to eat properly”.

And then he farted.

At that time, she knew.

It has to be him.

You don’t share a fart with just about anyone. You have to be completely at ease with someone to do that in their presence and while eating a sandwich. It is a sign from above, happening down below.

And to be technically accurate and to clear the air ( 😉) for you all who are reading this with a frown, we are talking about a fart and not a fizzle.

(Disclaimer: I am not responsible for any similar incidents in future and its aftermath that involves a couple, a sandwich and farts)