Feeling Grateful

Despite the audacity of other people's buttholes

Today, I passed another checkpoint in life: turning 40. I thought when I turned 40, I’d be depressed or anxious that I hadn’t achieved everything I’ve wanted from life, but instead I’m feeling grateful.

At the end of May, my best friend Laurell and I embarked on an almost three week vacation around Europe. The common theme of the trip was being grateful. We were so in awe of everything the countries we visited had to offer; amazing food, sights, and wonderful people. In awe of being able to take the time to do such a trip. In awe of being able to do a trip like we did together. There weren’t a lot of moments where we took the trip for granted. It was so busy that I have a hard time remembering everything that we did.

We planned the trip over two years ago, and it felt like a thing that would never happen. Something we’d discuss from time to time, but would never really reach our timeline. But fast forward to when we finally met up, hopping on a train to the Paddington Station in London, a type of magic occurred. We hadn’t seen each other in person for two years, and yet it felt like we hadn’t been apart. The trip was almost seamless. We made our plans easily each day and ventured out, both of us playing on our strengths.

I felt so grateful that I had built such a wonderful friendship over the years with someone so special. Someone who could get us out of an escape room in 25 minutes flat. Someone that helped me find my perfect lip colour. Someone that shines so bright with their welcoming smile, that people find themselves gravitating towards them. It made me reflect on the other people in my life. Those who want the best for me and vice versa.

Today I opened some birthday cards and text messages from friends and family that spent the time to find the card or silly gif, write a message, and mail/send it. It seems like such a small act, but it really does feel wonderful to be thought of, to be made to feel special, if only for a few minutes.

Reflecting on who is part of my life made me proud. Proud of my friends and who they’ve become, now that most of them are reaching their mid-life, like myself. And proud of myself for building and cultivating these relationships over time, something that isn’t always easy for me.

Anyway, I wanted to leave y’all with a little flash fiction that I wrote on the cruise, inspired by a moment when Laurell was maybe less than grateful, but inspiration still arose. At the bottom is the bonus video version when Laurell did a cold reading. Enjoy:

The Audacity of Men’s Buttholes: An Ode to Laurell

It happened on day five of our girl’s trip and has haunted you since. It went off in an unsuspecting crowd, spooking all the people around us in the busy corridor while we waited for the elevator.

The sharp sound. The equally sharp odour.

The confusion on your face as you whipped your head towards me, eyes filled with alarm, followed by the slow Recognition. Disgust. Anger.

You were flabbergasted by his flatulence. It’s been a week and you still are.

I hear you sometimes whisper to yourself, shaking your head as you recoil at your recall: “That was so gross.”

I see your lip curl when a similar looking man gets on an elevator with us.

I hear about it again when the doppelganger gets off on a different floor.

“I still can’t believe that guy did that. Just ripped the loudest fart in a crowd of people. Didn’t care at all. He had no shame. Only a man would do that, ya know?”

I do know. Would a woman do that? Sure, it takes all types. But that level of audacity, of self-assured confidence, is grown in a certain kind of man. It builds up. It lets itself loose when it wants, with no consideration for others. With no thoughts towards the ripple effect of emotions left over long after the gas ripped loudly and without warning from their behind.

You’ll never hear it from him, so I want you to hear it from me. I’m sorry for the clinging nature of your horrible experience, Laurell. And I’m sorry that it will most definitely happen again.

Because this is the world we live in.

Filled with the audacity of men’s buttholes.