It got to the point where I had to stop sleeping in our bedroom the second month of marriage.
Not only that, but I had to blast the AC, stuff towels under our door, stuff towels under my daughter’s door, turn the fan on in both rooms, and sleep in her room with her. He snuck into her room and farted when I was almost asleep so that I would start dry heaving. I had to start sleeping with the door locked with her.
I started routine prescription nausea medicine to keep my food down at night, just in case, because it was becoming kind of health hazard because of how sick it was making me.
When I asked him if he thought the amount of food he was inhaling every night was causing his farts, he said yes.
I asked if maybe he could slow down or substitute for healthier snacks, such as sea salt popcorn, or a bit lighter and less full of thick cheese snacks, and he said no. His reasoning? He said he likes the way the farts feel exiting his butt as they vibrate his prostate and butt hole.
Like I’m not even kidding-HE FREAKING SAID THAT.
I’m so horrified that I even typed that.
My life became a living nightmare as I could no longer sleep in my room and also remain alive. My desk was in my room, so I also had to stop working in the daytime from my bedroom. He works from home in the bedroom too.
I had to change the entire situation just to cater to the pleasure of his farts.
I tried desperately to get him to go to a doctor, I found referrals to gastroenterologists, I bought him probiotics enzymes, milk substitutes, I cooked healthy meals, he would literally tell me he didn’t want the healthy meal and drive himself to Taco Bell instead. He refused to go to the doctor. He took the probiotic sometimes but usually just pretended to and slipped them by his nightstand so I wouldn’t see that he didn’t take them.
Knowing I was going to have to remain on prescription nausea meds, possibly for life, just to cohabitate with this man was so mind blowing.
Our budget was going crazy to keep up with the demands of the amount of food needed to keep his farting for pleasure needs met. At one point, he literally inhaled so much food so fast and so nonstop that he gained 12 pounds in 48 hours and he looked at the scale and screamed.
I tried to get him into therapy and a psychiatrist, but no. I am a very body positive person that does not fat shame and genuinely believes that you should eat what makes you feel healthy and good and not worry about hitting some numbers on a scale.
The situation, however, feels like a very disastrous issue that is very weird and not very common, something that people probably can’t relate to because it’s just completely absurd in every way.
He said he will always choose that vibrational fart feeling and the fart smell and the grease snacks and the cheese above me.
He said that is a hill he is forever willing to die on.
Anyway, that is the story of why I am divorcing my husband over farts. On the surface level, I know it sounds like it’s just about farts and then I’m just a really shallow wife, but I think it’s actually so much deeper. It’s just hard to explain how.
Source: reddit
