Thresholds
There are many thresholds in life.
There was the time you took those first steps, an occasion marked by the delight of your squealing mother who wasn’t quite quick enough in her hysteria to keep you from falling face first into the coffee table.
There was the day your father took the training wheels off your bicycle and shot you down the front street so that you could crash into the neighbour’s new car.
There was your first day at school, a time when your mother dressed you in hideously new clothes and provided you with all the regular geek gear – a back pack with some superhero or cartoon character emblazoned on its plastic shell, a matching lunch box, and an assortment of pencils, crayons, erasers, and the like.
There was your first love, a young girl or young boy who caught your fancy because ... well, maybe she or he had a bigger frog than you, maybe she or he could run like the wind ... who knows why kids fall hopelessly in love while their parents blame it on puppies.
There was your first high school dance. You may have had a date but, more likely, you didn’t. You may have dressed in something pretty in pink that tiptoed on that fine line between looking like a “fairy princess” and an underage hooker, or you may have worn a houndstooth blazer that your mother thought was “slimming” but made everyone you met nauseous in a kind of motion sickness way.
There was that inevitable first kiss. You had practised it with every aunt and close relationship, but you never ever realised how clumsy and yet how miraculous it could be.
There was your first time having sex. It was good, bad, or indifferent – probably scary and full of self-doubt -- or maybe it was wondrous and fulfilling, so much depends on who you were with, where, and when it happened.
There was your first orgasm, and that caught you by surprise, didn’t it?
There was the day you got your driver’s licence, and there was that first night time drive when you were all alone with the radio blaring and the car racing almost out of control.
There was your high school graduation, and your parents showed a hideous side of themselves by bouncing like goats around at the edge of the stage with an instamatic camera that captured photos of you from the most unflattering angles.
There was the “one,” the young man or young lady who captured your heart and to whom you swore undying love for the rest of time, only to change your mind by the end of summer.
There was your wedding day in which two families who had little love for each other came together in a celebration of your promise of endless love. Everyone dressed in rented clothes, which were rented for a reason – you’d never be caught dead in them a second time.
There was the birth of your first child, and you came to understand the meaning of the word, “miracle,” only to discover, soon enough, that you would need many more miracles to get that kid to adulthood without one or both of you going insane in the process.
There was the divorce, the first one. Everything you believed in about honesty and trust in life disappeared. Many of you still haven’t recovered.
There was the next generation of lovers, women or men who had been through a life similar to yours, and who, like you, were looking for some tenderness, some companionship, and a second chance at love.
Then, and may I add most importantly, there is the fart threshold.
Your middle age comes with some physical changes, but the fart threshold is not restricted to age. You can date, kiss with piercing tongues in a variety of anatomical places, have wild sex, talk dirty, fake a couple of orgasms, and scream, "O! — O! — OMGGGGG!!!" — yes, all of these are the rites of passage to intimacy. Still, you’re never really completely comfortably intimate until you can lie back in bed and lay down a good fart.
Sure, there will be some twitters from your partner, some epithets like, “Good one ... let’s light it up next time,” but those are signs of acceptance. You’ve crossed the threshold. And before long, you’ll both be communicating on a wonderful new level and in a completely new language.
There are many thresholds in life.
There was the time you took those first steps, an occasion marked by the delight of your squealing mother who wasn’t quite quick enough in her hysteria to keep you from falling face first into the coffee table.
There was the day your father took the training wheels off your bicycle and shot you down the front street so that you could crash into the neighbour’s new car.
There was your first day at school, a time when your mother dressed you in hideously new clothes and provided you with all the regular geek gear – a back pack with some superhero or cartoon character emblazoned on its plastic shell, a matching lunch box, and an assortment of pencils, crayons, erasers, and the like.
There was your first love, a young girl or young boy who caught your fancy because ... well, maybe she or he had a bigger frog than you, maybe she or he could run like the wind ... who knows why kids fall hopelessly in love while their parents blame it on puppies.
There was your first high school dance. You may have had a date but, more likely, you didn’t. You may have dressed in something pretty in pink that tiptoed on that fine line between looking like a “fairy princess” and an underage hooker, or you may have worn a houndstooth blazer that your mother thought was “slimming” but made everyone you met nauseous in a kind of motion sickness way.
There was that inevitable first kiss. You had practised it with every aunt and close relationship, but you never ever realised how clumsy and yet how miraculous it could be.
There was your first time having sex. It was good, bad, or indifferent – probably scary and full of self-doubt -- or maybe it was wondrous and fulfilling, so much depends on who you were with, where, and when it happened.
There was your first orgasm, and that caught you by surprise, didn’t it?
There was the day you got your driver’s licence, and there was that first night time drive when you were all alone with the radio blaring and the car racing almost out of control.
There was your high school graduation, and your parents showed a hideous side of themselves by bouncing like goats around at the edge of the stage with an instamatic camera that captured photos of you from the most unflattering angles.
There was the “one,” the young man or young lady who captured your heart and to whom you swore undying love for the rest of time, only to change your mind by the end of summer.
There was your wedding day in which two families who had little love for each other came together in a celebration of your promise of endless love. Everyone dressed in rented clothes, which were rented for a reason – you’d never be caught dead in them a second time.
There was the birth of your first child, and you came to understand the meaning of the word, “miracle,” only to discover, soon enough, that you would need many more miracles to get that kid to adulthood without one or both of you going insane in the process.
There was the divorce, the first one. Everything you believed in about honesty and trust in life disappeared. Many of you still haven’t recovered.
There was the next generation of lovers, women or men who had been through a life similar to yours, and who, like you, were looking for some tenderness, some companionship, and a second chance at love.
Then, and may I add most importantly, there is the fart threshold.
Your middle age comes with some physical changes, but the fart threshold is not restricted to age. You can date, kiss with piercing tongues in a variety of anatomical places, have wild sex, talk dirty, fake a couple of orgasms, and scream, "O! — O! — OMGGGGG!!!" — yes, all of these are the rites of passage to intimacy. Still, you’re never really completely comfortably intimate until you can lie back in bed and lay down a good fart.
Sure, there will be some twitters from your partner, some epithets like, “Good one ... let’s light it up next time,” but those are signs of acceptance. You’ve crossed the threshold. And before long, you’ll both be communicating on a wonderful new level and in a completely new language.
