Over at Tertia's blog, it turns out that a lot of people would rather do things like constipate themselves for two weeks than generate a #2 in the same household as a romantic partner. Tertia used to race home from her future husband's place on the freeway to get to her own toilet, and still demands bathroom privacy. There are people who refuse to poop at someone else's house, or anywhere away from home. There's a woman who was too embarrassed to get out of the bath she was sharing with her man when she had to pee, so instead she peed in the tub and turned the water yellow (nice!). I never once heard my dad pass gas or burp, and there were two results: (1) wicked halitosis, and (2) early death. I'm telling you, the heart can't take so much stifling. It's not healthy.
On the other hand, some couples will have farting contests, I learned in Tertia's comments area. Somebody else has a mother-in law who is "so proud of her farts, she'll walk into a crowded room, say loudly, 'Your attention, please! A moment of silence!' She'll fart, dramatically, then say 'you may now continue,' and leave." (That woman is my hero.) There's one woman who farts in front of her husband, which distresses him, but she's doing it to avenge his farts.
We're a pretty relaxed family here in the Maison Tangerine. Those of you in the total-repression camp, I beg you: Loosen up before it's too late. Now, I'm not saying you should pull the Dutch oven trick or anything—that's just cruel to your bed partner—but life is too short to be all angsty about tooting and depositing logs.