Telling

Beers glasses were raised and clinked together. Tastings followed. The trio got down to business.

“How’d it go with the date?” Ron asked Pat.

“Good, real good.” Pat smiled. “Third one, so you know what that means.”

Bryan laughed. “Is that what that still means?”

“Yes.” Pat nodded. “Indeed, it does.”

Ron raised his glass. “To your new girlfriend? Or is it too early?”

Pat grimaced. “It might be too early. She’s a swell person, wonderfully intelligent and accomplished, sexy, of course — ”

“Of course,” Ron said as Bryan said, “That’s a sexist attitude.”

“It is, but she is a knockout.” After glancing over his shoulders, Pat leaned in over the table. The other two leaned in as well. “The only thing is, she farts a lot,” Pat said in a low voice. “They don’t make any noise, so it’s not that, but they smell terrible.”

“She farts?” Bryan said.

Pat nodded. “And it’s not a little poot now and then. When she farts, I want to flee like the villagers running from Godzilla. And it’s not her fault. We’ve talked about it. She’d apologized after I complained about the rank smell invading my car. She told me it was a side effect of a medicine she’s been on a long time. She’s tried changing her diet and she’s looked into other meds, but nothing will work for her. And anxiety, like from dating, apparently makes it worse.”

“Wow.” Looking at Bryan, Ron sat back. “That’s a shame. A smelly farter. Damn”

Pat sighed. “Yeah, I’d hate for it to end for that, because she’s otherwise so wonderful, and I feel lucky to know her and be dating her.”

Bryan nodded. “Have you told her about your troubles in peckerville?”

Sitting back, Pat sipped his beer a moment and then smiled. “No. The way I see it, there’s no sense in telling her about that until I know if I can live with the farting.”

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