When we talk about sperm, I always remember the opening segment of the movie "Look Who's Talking": uncountable sperm racing toward the egg, and the Dave Clark Five playing "Catch us if you can".
Spud has a point. Since the man needs marriage to ensure he raises the right seed, the woman ca n wait almost indefinitely after marriage, because she's guranteed 50% of the genes however she goes about her sexual practice. Marriage to a respectable man sets her free to get the right genetic make-up for her child. It only takes a few minutes and one random choice.... That's why God is an all knowing male.
One of the thi ngs that surprised me after returing from the marines, possessed of a 250 lb weightlifter's body, was the number of married women who would leave their notes on my car windshield with arrangements for clandestine meetings. I was getting so many i nvites I though abut putting a sign on my car: "Whorehopping: Reasonable rates". Some of the married men were considering a shotgun wedding just to get me out of circulation. Strangely, I never took advantage of any offers because i had no desire to cheat my fellow man. I figured karma is a motherfucker.
Besides, the marines had taught me there was no use in fighting over women, when you could just shoot the men and screw the women at will, Vietnam style.
Since sex is primarily a product that protects the immune system, men get too carried away with developng means of pwer that allows their immune system to be protected by social organization, especially if the men have a lot of money. Money and power are great extensions of the immune system.
Several years ago I had a starring role in a local production of an old Broadway musical (Frank Butler, 'Annie Get Your Gun'), and there was this really fine blond woman in the cast. Her husband was Army ranger, paratrooper, Silver Star from Vietnam, etc, and nomi nated for the Medal of Honor. He was rich, powerful, and fucking crazy. However, I could match him in the fucking crazy category.
Being suspicious of my close relations with his wife in the play, he took an opportunity to actually stand beside me with his head over mine, the way dominant dogs will stand over the backs of other dogs. I started laughing.
"What's so fucking funny? " he snarled
"Your breath stinks, asshole. Or is that your ass I smell from your breath hole?"
What we both knew about each other is that neither of us had any fear of grabbing a gun and blowing the other away. Realizing he couldn't intimidate, he left me alone. The problem was that hs wife then began to cry on my shoulder abut how she was being abused in his jealousy. I told her that wasn't my problem, she should see a therapist. No more problems there.
If it wasn't for sex, what would we do for fun?