My name is Chris, and I am a man.

I drink too much and watch football.
I eat red meat and order pizza with anger.
I have walked in the cold without wearing a hat.
I have turned down eating quiche just because of the name.
By every mark of THIS society... I am a man.

I have lain with a woman.
I have broken a heart and had my heart broken.
I have been hit on at a bar and I have had my face slapped.
I have asked a stranger to dance and been told yes and no.
By every measure that is MEASURABLE... I am a man.

I have eaten a whole meal made of nothing but condiments.
I only drink beer you can't see through clearly.
I have been tricked by my friends to be outside naked.
I have gotten them back ten fold.
By every marker you can THINK of... I am a man.

I have snuck out of the house and snuck back in.
I have played golf on a day when I should have been working.
I work hard for my money and take care of my own.
I drive a car that's too small so I can drive one too big.
By all criteria IMAGINABLE... I am a man.

As a man, I make noise. I burp. I fart. I belch. I ralph. On rare occasions I shart. My bodily functions combine to perform a symphony of ugly, titled Disgusting. I hit the gym, so I sweat. I play football in the mud, so I'm dirty.

Laura has, at times, informed me that the gas I produce could level a large city if properly ignited. She does not say this out loud. Instead, she will discreetly roll down the window in the car throw her her out and yell, "OH GOD!!!" Or she will roll over and cover her face screaming something about a cloud of death. Most of the time it is not my fault. When I go to the gym, I take obscene amounts of protein. When I am working out, I do this regularly. Unfortunately this has the effect of turning my ass into a rotten egg factory.

Then one evening she spoke to me, quite seriously, about HOW I should be releasing these gaseous anomalies.

She told me that instead of letting them out all at once, I needed to squeeze my cheeks together tightly, letting it out quiet and sneaky, and letting my butt absorb the stinky evil before letting the gas, now quite clean smelling, into the atmosphere. That's what SHE does, and she does it because she is considerate.

And thus, my fiancee explained to me... EXACTLY why... her shit doesn't stink.