Wednesday, September 26, 2007

repost - the double standard of entering and exiting

[while i gather my thoughts for my next confessional, i figured i'd post an oldie. i'm sure most of you have read it, but there may be a new reader or two who hasn't. anyway, this is also something to remind me of the candor i wanna re-capture when i write, as i've noticed how effective i've been at censuring myself lately. here's hoping i knock myself out of such foolish behavior. anyway, that's my problem, not yours...]

i had just farted. and it wasn't the kind of fart where you go "whew! that didn't smell too bad..." was the kind of fart that make you say out loud to yourself "DAYUM, that shit STINKS!", which is normally not all that bad when you're by yourself.

i was on the elevator at the time. luckily, i was also by myself, which was why i thought it was aiight to let it out, cuz my stomach started cramping and i really couldn't hold it in much longer. after scrunching up my face in distaste at the straight up rankness that had just been emitted from my ass, i backed up to the wall, hoping to escape the smell. then i forgot...farts follow. that smell followed me straight to the corner of the elevator.

and then the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

and he was standing there.


malik had just recently been hired and was working in the mailroom. the mailroom at my job is also known as the only place where a black man can find employment here and there was no denying the straight up, bonafide beauty of the black man standing in front of me at the entrance of the elevator.

the same elevator where i had just a minute ago let loose the kind of fart that smelled like something had crawled up into my ass and died.

i cringed inwardly as i watched him step into the elevator.

"wassup," he said, his eyebrow lifted in query as he watched me plant my ass firmly against the wall. i nodded with fake confidence, too embarrassed to say anything else, cuz i knew in a second he was gonna smell the fart of all farts.

turning to hit the button to the floor he was getting off on, i heard him take in a deep breath. i was facing his back when the moment came.

the moment when the air from the dead animal in my ass made it past his nostrils to burn the lining in his stomach.

i saw his shoulders stiffen and his frame become ramrod straight. i pressed my ass even more closely to the wall, as if the damage hadn't already been done. damn you asshole! this is all your fault!

now i've had various body parts fail me in the past during crucial moments. dry vagina during sex, blurry eyes while driving, hands that drop expensive vases on the floor, forgetting which floor i lived on...these things i was used to. but my anus had always been the one part of my anatomy that had never let me down. until now.

in the past, my "a-orafice" had come through for me like a champ, like the time when i ate a four omlette breakfast with a glass of prune juice (my grandma, y'all) and then had to make it through a four hour funeral with no bathroom in sight. that day, she was like fort knox! she was bolted down between buns of steel and she didn't let SHIT out.

then there were the numerous times when i had to fart while i was giving presentations. for some reason, whenever i'm about to do a public speaking engagement, gas just suddenly forms in my ass and i have to fart. i know it has to do with my nerves, but da hell does that happen???

anyway, so as i said, my "a-orafice" had my back when it counted, but not on this day. on this day, i was standing behind the finest brotha in the building, realizing he hadn't taken a breath since he first got on the elevator, knowing that whatever play i thought i was gonna get from him had vanished into thin air, the fart having killed it.

that was the longest minute of my life. we both held to our places in silence. he never turned towards me and i never pulled my ass from the wall as i stood in back of him. when the doors finally opened onto his floor, he practically jumped out of the elevator. he didn't even say goodbye.

but as the doors closed, i could hear him gasping as he tried to catch some air after holding his breath for the entire elevator ride.

i frantically started flapping my arms around, hoping to disperse the heinous smell still sitting in the air like a dirty ass on a clean couch. by the time i reached my floor, my arms were killing me.

the next time i saw malik was three weeks later at a department function. he saw me coming and discreetly turned to walk in the opposite direction.

i learned a lesson there. guys have no problem sticking a dick in your ass, but they have little tolerance for anything coming out of it.