Warts and all ...

Love is a many-splendoured thing; true love a Holy Grail for many.

We grew up hearing the stories of those who allegedly gave their lives for it.

We learned how the love was at times unrequited and almost all were unconsummated (they didn't get to do the jiggy-jiggy), and certainly none resulted in a baby (or two. Or three. Or more).

So logically, the dying-for-love genes has probably died out from the human gene pool by this time - which lends some credence to the global notion that romance is dead.

:Is it true love? Or just infatuation? saith the teenage niece throbbing with repressed desires brought about by a reading diet of Black Lace books.

+ Is this my true love? My Grand Passion? Or is it just LUST? asked the engineering manager over his Carlsberg, anxiously smoothing back his thinning sweaty hair.

So what would be THE defining moment in a romance?


The one that tells you if that passing fancy is really your soul-mate in disguise;


if that sexy kekar plumber will most definitely cherish your waterworks to death (and would never even look at another T-joint ever);



if that office cleaning illegal immigrant will religiously keep your woodwork shiny and new through regular and rigorous polishing;


That bit of wisdom accumulated over the years tells me something about the defining moment of a relationship ...

... the one that moves the two of you beyond the residual awkwardness and into the joys of ultimate intimacy.


The REAL defining moment of any serious relationship is your encounter with the First Fart.


Now I'm not talking about those sneaky silent ones discharged under the lacy tablecloth in the swanky Brasserie on Valentine's Day dinner.

Nor the ones released, with great cunning, in public - and in the hope that prevailing winds will sweep the evidence away.

Unfortunately for Bush, his farts are just as dense as he is.

No, no - I'm talking about that big and really LOUD one that takes both of you by surprise by its sheer violence.
I'm talking about the type that would make a veteran ping-pong ball shooter of a Patpong tiger-show contact you for training.


And Heaven help you if it also turns out to be a ripe one - the sort that the US went to war in Iraq to look for and could power a whole generation of hybrid cars.


The First Fart changes whole perceptions, shifts cherished paradigms and detonates a whole slew of rose-tinted illusions.

The First Fart is the ultimate reality.


The good thing about the First Fart is that it will definitely move the relationship to the next level, for better or for worse.

It's THAT defining.

But what the hell - what's the worst thing that could happen?

Well, the relationship could go south, of course.

But then would you really want to share your life with someone so delusional as to believe that farts don't exist?

Or so pretentious as to pretend that decent people don't fart aloud.

And on the other hand, the best thing that could happen is that your intended-beloved will just curl up and start to ROTFL.

When that happens you can sit back and relax.

Then you'll know that on domestic weekends, the morning calm of your bedroom may well resound to what sounds very much like a pod of whales blowing kisses at each other.

There she blows ... there, no ... there! ... ooo, dats everywhere!

But then, you'd be cool ... you're blissed out on the Holy Grail.




To paraphrase what Oliver Cromwell (left) said so long ago:

"Love me, you sweet munchkins ... pimples, warts, farts and all ..."


Now that's true love.