Mr spermatozoon finds a home
Mr spermatozoon finds a home
Pick a day — any day — and there is sure to be a lot of human semen entering the world from private parts unknown. What it gets up to — when it gets out there — is anyone's guess.
Each day there's buckets of the stuff discharging forth half a teaspoon at a time. If we were to check the manifest, despite the current trend for low numbers, 200-300 million spermatozoa are on board bravely going where no wriggly thing has gone before. Just imagine how many sperm are sent on a mission each Saturday night! What with one thing and another, most of them are going to be dead by breakfast. Such is life ... for sperm. Lest we forget them.
If it wasn't for those few who make it, where would the patriarchy be today. For millennia we just thought milking males for semen was a fun thing to do. We didn't know it could help make babies. And now that we do, every sperm is suddenly so very sacred — so sacred that we are encouraged not to spill a single drop.
But your average spermatozoon is really a dumb, pig headed brute — albeit hard-working. Devoid of culture and unfamiliar with the gracious niceties of the many other forms of social intercourse, all he wants out of life is to swim north and spawn.
With such a narrow outlook, there's not a man alive who hasn't tricked his own freshly harvested seed and sent it on a wild goose chase. With contraceptive devices available, the occasional nocturnal emission, masturbation always on hand, or same-sex sex, the jokes on you Mr Spermatozoon. Better luck next time. It's no wonder so few of you get to thrash about, basted by cilia, in the warm waters of a fallopian tube, let alone make it to the big time.
So if any woman wants to give Mr Spermatozoon a home, let's not begrudge her generosity. With such chronically high unemployment among the fruits of many a gentlemen's loins, we should be pleased that she can find him work to do. That's what she wants. She's the boss. And whether she wants him on board or not is her right to choose.
If you don't like it, you can go play with yourself.
By Dave Riley