Sperm v.s. Egg

As men and women age, life is completely unfairly weighted in favour of the sperm-bearers.

Sperm, you see, don’t die off at quite the same alarming rate as a woman’s eggs after the age of 35. This leaves women at a severe disadvantage when it comes to finding a mate, finding love, and procreating as we approach our expiry date.
This is unfortunate because women (even more so than men in my opinion) who have taken care of themselves, not had too much sun or gained a bunch of age weight, are even more attractive than ever in their mid-to- late thirties. But they’re no longer turning heads the way they used to because they’re approaching the end of their baby-making years.
We've figured out how to dress in a way that flatters the figure rather than creating unnecessary muffin tops with trendy jeans that don’t fit, or squeezing into camel-toe shorts that accentuate the butt-crease cellulite that every woman loathes. We’ve learned to eat better and take care of ourselves so that our skin glows, our teeth sparkle, our hair shines and our eyebrows aren’t battling the shadow for space on our lids. We have money to spend on clothes, hair treatments and our perfectly pedicured toes. And our confidence is higher than ever: we feel more comfortable with our bodies both in the sack and on the beach because to be honest, we just don’t give a shit anymore. Life is meant to be enjoyed. We are quite literally at our prime but men our age, or a little bit older, run from us like they’ve seen a ghost.

Why? The woman is in her final years or even months of possibly ever becoming a mother. Of course there’s desperation on her face!  It’s unavoidable.
And of course the men are bound to run away. If they’ve managed to avoid baby-making and marriage thus far, they certainly don’t want to be hooking up with someone who is likely to force either upon them within the next four months.

But imagine if this battle were more evenly weighted. Imagine if men stopped producing viable sperm after the age of 37. Both sides would be forced to hurry up and ‘lock it down’.

We would have no choice.
What 26-year-old woman would want to date a 40-year-old man with a great smile but no more swimmers?

I will now fantasize about the conversation reversal possibilities:

Tom: I think you’re really great Angie, in fact, I love you, but I really want to have a baby.

Angie: I think you’re really great too Tom, but I’m just not ready for that yet. I know you’re 37 and your sperm only have a few months left, but I have a few good years in me yet.  Sorry honey. Maybe you should try to find someone who’s more your own age.

At a certain point Tom, who’s always been attractive, charming and appealing to the opposite sex, finds himself at a loss because women are no longer interested in him. They’re turned off by his desperation to have children and they know that his reproductive value is rapidly declining.
He is no longer useful as a mate.

Take this scenario for men and multiply it by about 10 for women.
Women’s bodies are made to be baby carriers. Making, carrying and caring for babies is a large portion of our role, historically, on this earth. We’re not the hunter/gatherers; we give birth to and care for the babies.
So what’s a girl to do when that’s no longer her point?

Demi Moore should have known that she would run out of luck with Ashton a few years ago simply because of her age. Eventually the young, swingin’ single man is going to want an offspring or two of his own and if the oven he’s with is not operational, he’ll find one that is.

Maybe it's wise for me to wait for my mid-to-late forties, after I've had the kid on my own, to re-enter the dating pool. Maybe by that time things will have levelled out and a sperm-bearer and an egg harvester will return to being a boy and a girl, just looking for someone to love..........

Que Sera Sera

I was feeling particularly sad for a single friend last night as she nearly broke down in tears explaining to me how lonely she felt.

She’s a successful, accomplished, intelligent and attractive 40-year-old woman, never been married and with no children.  All she’s wanted, desperately, her entire life, is someone she can love and who loves her back.
I understand her pain. I’ve felt that way before and it comes and goes.

It’s just this overwhelming feeling of how unfair it all is. You look at your friends, family members, people on the street, and they all seem to have someone to love and hold hands with; someone to grow old with.  Why not me? You ask yourself.

I told my friend that I can certainly empathize with her; I’ve been paddling along in the exact same boat for years. But then I told her that over the last few months, I’ve been able to make peace with it all to some extent.

“Yeah, you seem really happy,” she said. “Why?”

“Well, why not?” I responded.

I’ve spent many years blaming myself for being single: something’s wrong with me; I’m a failure; I made a colossal mistake when I broke up with so-and-so or threw in the towel with what’s-his-name, etc.  Whatever society might have to say about single women and why they are that way, I could beat myself up better in my own little noggin’!

But gradually, sometime over the past year after finally arriving at the other side of a terrible break up and dealing with the long, heart-wrenching process of my dad’s illness and subsequent death, I decided that I don’t feel like being part of the cast of Les Miserables anymore. It’s exhausting to be miserable all the time. And so, so boring.

Besides whether I’m miserable or content, whining all the time or just trucking happily along, will not make a difference in the final outcome of it all, so why not be happy?

I used to agree with my friend, thinking that it’s so unfair that some people meet the love of their lives and live happily ever after, while some of us remain single and destined to be alone. But as a really smart person once said and as we all well know in our heart of hearts: Life is not fair.

Is it fair that I have a good job that I enjoy, a nice place to live in, a loving family and dozens of wonderful friends while some toddler in Africa is starving to death and will likely never have to worry about the petty struggle to find a mate? No, not really.

It’s not really fair either that one of my most beautiful and sweet friends, married a very beautiful and lovely man, they had two beautiful and healthy children, became successful in two amazing careers which afford them many of life’s pleasures and they won cash for life. Yes, that’s right, cash for life. Sometimes you’ve just gotta shake your head in amazement and smile and say, “Wow, they’re really lucky.”

Nor is it fair that 12 unsuspecting people just hoping to enjoy a midnight showing of the latest installment in their favourite movie franchise ended up the butt of someone else’s sick joke or nightmare, shot up and killed before getting halfway through their popcorn.

None of it is fair. And so much of it is about chance and luck.

Of course, there are things you can do to increase your chances of luck in love, or luck in life, like getting out there, being friendly, outgoing, optimistic, working hard, taking care of yourself, and being open to new things and new people.

However, maybe it’s best to always carry around a healthy dose of ‘Que Sera, Sera’ because in the end there’s only so much you can do before luck and chance step in.

In the end, whatever will be will be so why waste your time being miserable?