Lesson Fifteen: The Way You See It In Your Head And The Way It Actually Plays Out Are Always Different.

I had my 40^th birthday on December 6^th and after celebrating with a few friends the previous weekend, The Boyfriend had planned a fun/romantic dinner with just the two of us for the actual day. My taste in most things is hard to pick so needless to say he was slightly nervous about the gift.  I brought a new black dress, paired it with some killer heels and threw a little faux fur jacket over the top. (ie: - “killer” heels because they’re very high and kill my feet.) The Boyfriend arrived, we popped some pricey French bubbly that I broke the budget for and unveiled the present, a really unusual chunky silver ring. He nailed it.  

We headed to dinner and I took the rest of the champagne and swigged it straight from the bottle as he drove – that move right there is probably the reason the rest of the night went the way it did.  

We get to this fantastic Italian restaurant and ordered. He had outdone himself, the food was absolutely brilliant as was the wine and I was feeling pretty relaxed with a good booze-buzz on.

After dinner I was feeling a little frisky so on the drive back I suggested we pull over for a bit of a pash – after all, it was my birthday and that’s what I wanted to do. Even at age 40 with a perfectly comfortable bed to go home too – I’m acting like a teenage fumbling awkwardly in the car.  Plus I’d seen this play out hundreds of times in my head and knew after six months together we would have this down pat. We pull in by the beach, and no sooner had The Boyfriend pulled the handbrake, I go to cock my high-heeled leg over to sit astride him in the drivers seat. My smooth move may have gone flawlessly if it hadn’t been for the rich Italian food and wine because as lift I my left leg to flick over him, I let out the biggest, longest fart I’ve ever let go in my life. Mortified I still tried to go through with the “romance” by continuing to try and get my leg over him, however he was cracking up at the same time I was crushing his hand that was sitting on the gear stick.

At this point I resigned to the fact that a) there would be no romance; b) this would be a memorable birthday but not for the reasons I had hoped and planned for and c) we had to open the window.

So I sat back down, all romance obliterated while he rubbed feeling back into his crushed hand and we drove home. Fortunately he has a great sense of humor and had just added this this to his ever-growing list of 'Embarrassing Tarsh Moments'. (Thank god he doesn't have a blog.)