I'm generally awkward in all situations. I'm the pallbearer who drops the casket, the guy who hits on his girlfriend's mother, the commuter whose short-shorts leave his genitals exposed for five stops. (In my defense, I do have large genitals.) I found myself in a quandary the other day; not sure how to act.I was on a treadmill next to an outrageously beautiful woman, and someone farted. It wasn't me. Seriously. I would have called it. But how does one respond in that situation?
In my gym, which is quite possibly the worst gym in the entire city, there are good treadmills and bad treadmills. The good ones have televisions attached to them, over look the street, and don't make odd squeaking sounds when you run on them. The bad treadmills bounce, are in a dark corner, and are mostly used by people singing Shakira out loud. So it's no surprise that when a good treadmill opened up, I claimed it as my own.
Before making my way over, I noticed that the girl using the treadmill next to the open one was hotter than an Allessandra Ambrosio/Elisha Cuthbert love child. Now, I'm not one to stare in gyms. I don't like to be stared at as I'm lifting the five pound step-aerobics weights to mid-thigh and I doubt anyone else enjoys lingering eyes. So, I tried my best to avoid eye contact with the goddess next to me.
She looked at me briefly as I plugged my workout numbers into the machine. She may have smiled. She may have winked. But whatever her action was, I concentrated on staring straight ahead, unwaivering in my determined stance against making eye-contact with anyone in my gym.
Three minutes into my run, and my nostrils began to burn. A smell, like rotten potato chips dumped into a vat of burning puppies, ran through the area. I held back a gag. She suddenly stopped, turned off the machine, and walked away. And here we come to the problem.
Let's say she didn't fart. As I mentioned before, I definitely didn't do it. The fart could have been from someone passing by. Yet, how was I to respond? Do I say something such as, "Oh that's just nasty" hoping to claim innocence? What if she DID fart and I made her feel worse? I needed to do something to show that the flatulence was not laid by me. Do I throw a joke out there? "Wow, that was a bigger bomb than Gigli."
I opted for the curled face and slight plugging of the nose. She left in such a hurry that it hardly mattered. But I vowed next time that I'd have a better way of diffusing the situation.
I know most of this is moot as we all know women don't fart. And when they do, it smells like a garden meadow. But I turn to you oh wise and sexy readers. What would you have done?
Before making my way over, I noticed that the girl using the treadmill next to the open one was hotter than an Allessandra Ambrosio/Elisha Cuthbert love child. Now, I'm not one to stare in gyms. I don't like to be stared at as I'm lifting the five pound step-aerobics weights to mid-thigh and I doubt anyone else enjoys lingering eyes. So, I tried my best to avoid eye contact with the goddess next to me.
She looked at me briefly as I plugged my workout numbers into the machine. She may have smiled. She may have winked. But whatever her action was, I concentrated on staring straight ahead, unwaivering in my determined stance against making eye-contact with anyone in my gym.
Three minutes into my run, and my nostrils began to burn. A smell, like rotten potato chips dumped into a vat of burning puppies, ran through the area. I held back a gag. She suddenly stopped, turned off the machine, and walked away. And here we come to the problem.
Let's say she didn't fart. As I mentioned before, I definitely didn't do it. The fart could have been from someone passing by. Yet, how was I to respond? Do I say something such as, "Oh that's just nasty" hoping to claim innocence? What if she DID fart and I made her feel worse? I needed to do something to show that the flatulence was not laid by me. Do I throw a joke out there? "Wow, that was a bigger bomb than Gigli."
I opted for the curled face and slight plugging of the nose. She left in such a hurry that it hardly mattered. But I vowed next time that I'd have a better way of diffusing the situation.
I know most of this is moot as we all know women don't fart. And when they do, it smells like a garden meadow. But I turn to you oh wise and sexy readers. What would you have done?
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As the wisest and sexiest reader, I would like to give my advise.
Assuming that you didn't drop a "FADKI" (fart and didn't know it) that is your chance to step up to the plate. That girl is a good looking chick and more than likely has been pawning off her shortcomings on men for a long time. She knew she farted and she knew that she could pawn it off on you.
The minute a chick does that to you, you have to call her on it. Be funny but not overdoing it. You look over at her and politely say, "hey, did that machine give a little tummy ache?" She will deny it of course. All women deny it. That opens up the conversation. You then say, "well young lady, it smells like a Mexican's lunch box in here, who ever did it." She'll laugh still denying everything and you jump in with: "speaking of Mexican lunch boxes, how about joining me for some Mexican tonight." She'll probably shut you down. You smile and teasing her say: "Now I've been toughing through this smell for the last five minutes to ask you out and youre going to shut me down? She'll say, I don't even know you. You say: "you don't need to know me, anybody who sits through this kind of torture has to be a nice guy, now give me your number before I pass out. She'll give it to you. Make sure you smile all the way through it. If she rejects you, you just make a comment like " well stinky, you have a nice day." You'll feel a lot better than you did.
I'm gonna drop a big amen on Dave's take.
Dave, you are wise.
I'm going to hire Dave as my Cyrano de Bergerac.
Good hustle Dave. Live gives you lemons, you make lemonade.
Brilliant commentary, Dave, but I wonder if this woman would give you her REAL number and actually go out with you, with such Fart Inequity already on the table. You clearly would have the upper hand, and no matter what happened on those first few dates, no gaffe you made could equal the eyebrow-scorching monster she ripped at the gym, and she knows it.
(My girlfriend and I have been together for almost three years, and she's had me wrapped around her finger until just a couple months ago when she finally farted in front of me...now I'm ready to start contemplating marriage.)
My advice, if she DOES agree to go out with you -- greet her at her doorstep not with flowers or chocolates, but with a sharp, syncopated ass-firecracker. She'll be a lot more comfortable with an even playing field, and you can start planning your future together.
Oh, but either way, Echowood -- that chick definitely was the one who dealt it.
I want to start a regular column called "Challenge Dave" where we give him seemingly impossible chat-up situations, and see how he'd handle them.
Could be internet gold.
Internet gold? Movie Gold, my friend. I'm all aboard that train. Hitch II... Hitch with a twist.... We get Will Smith on board, I want in on the rights. Have your people call my people. We'll do lunch.
Hang on, let me grab a pen. "Challenge Dave." Got it.
I'm on it boss.