'I was on a first date with a guy when he lifted his leg and... farted.'

Farts are hilarious. We all know this to be true.

I am not above toilet humour, nor am I too precious to admit that everybody farts.

Yes – even Meghan Markle.

But there is an unspoken rule about farts in relationships.

I’m not saying I’ve never farted in front of a boyfriend because… please, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who has romanticised a new partner to the point where I’ve pretended farts don’t exist.

In fact, the very word isn’t even in my vocabulary throughout the initial courtship.

To me, this person is a mysterious unicorn of a man who, miraculously, doesn’t possess the capacity to exude gas from his… butthole.

And neither do I (for the uncomfortable length of time before he goes home and you can finally let it out).

…Until one day, maybe on a lazy Sunday morning in bed or while watching Netflix together on a Friday night, one of you accidentally lets a cute one slip. You both laugh, and it brings you closer together.

Now, you’ve opened the fart-floodgates.

The first intimate couple fart is a relationship milestone – a momentous occasion. It means you’ve reached a warm, gassy stage of comfort – the stuff of great long lasting love and fewer stomach aches. We all want to reach the fart stage, right?

But NOT within the first few hours of meeting someone.

Mamamia staff share their dating stories. Post continues after video.

Call me old fashioned, but I don’t think deliberate farts should be invited on a date until you’ve been together for at least a couple of months.

And they hadn’t been, until I met *Mike.

Mike and I met through work, funnily enough. We’d exchanged flirty emails over a few weeks which inevitably led to an Instagram stalk and me shamelessly following him to see if anything would come of it.

Soon enough, we arranged to meet up for dinner.

The conversation flowed, it was fun and he was nice enough, but I couldn’t see it going anywhere. It definitely felt like hanging out with one of my little brother’s friends. He was very… blokey, shall we say.

I had my mind made up that there wouldn’t be a second date long before we embarked on the walk to his car.

And then ~it~ happened.

We were chatting away when all of a sudden he stopped in the middle of the footpath, cocked his leg and let out a huge, loud, trumpet-sounding fart, followed by a sigh of relief.

My face – a mixture of shock and disbelief, looked a little something like this:

via GIPHY

Except, maybe with my mouth a little less open for fear of inhaling.

Yes – he quite literally crop dusted me in his fart gas.

On seeing the look of pure disgust on my face, he said, surprisingly: “Oh… You seemed like the sort of girl who would be cool with that stuff”.

Sorry, WHAT?

I was speechless.

Firstly – please don’t categorise me as any “sort of girl” on a first date, and secondly, WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

I’m not sure I… want to be “cool with that stuff” AKA farts on a first date.

I did my best to laugh it off, and jokingly asked had the roles been reversed, would he have been “cool with it”?

“Girls don’t fart!” he was quick to respond.

…..

Righto, mate.

To make matters worse, when we arrived at his car, he turned and asked if he could “chill at my apartment” for a bit before driving home.

via GIPHY

Boy, bye.

Take that gassy bum home stat.