The Birds & The Bees

Well.

It's official.

I am the only person left on the planet who isn't getting any.  Except The Man, who better not be getting any either. (Kidding; I know he isn't. There's not a man person I know who is more trustworthy than he is.)

Not only are friends and relatives knocking boots and finding themselves all blissed out in connubial wonderment (and occasionally finding themselves joyfully up the duff whilst my ridiculous uterus malfunctions six ways from sunday, none of which yields a new baby, I hasten to add), my bloody rabbit has a suitor.  She's a cute little thing.  Big ears.  She's a tart for bits of apple and will let me get pretty close before taking off, but the point is - - everyone, from friends and relatives to the G-ddamn rabbit has someone flirting with him, turning up outside his little condo, making her presence known.

Sonofa!

My relationship / sexual ethic is pretty old fashioned insofar as it applies to me.  One person for the duration.  Marriage was one thing <cue disaster sounds - cities collapsing, bombs falling, metal walls being breached, and the like > but after that, just The Man, please.   So no, I can't find a summer fling, or 'take a break' or any of that.  Well.  I suppose I could, since he's not here, but I don't want to. I don't want it for myself and I certainly don't want to do that to him.  I may not know algebra or long division, I may have the memory retention of a sieve, but I know about commitment and loyalty.

This does not assuage my frustration.  A woman of  a certain age past the nightmarish twenties, out of her Dirty Thirties and into her Freaky Forties has needs.  I have heard about this and wondered how much more noticeable it could be and yanno?  It turns out it can be fairly pronounced.

Which brings me to nature.

Stupid birds and bees.  (Yes I know we need the bees. Never mind. This isn't about them.) Did you know - even bears are getting head these days? (Not the gay-man bears either, though I think they do all right for themselves.)  No, I mean hairy bears, out in the wild.  No showers, no shaving, no grooming or dressing up or role playing or mind games or courtship or rules or commitment issues - just wild bears.  Getting and giving head.

Look, just look.  I couldn't make this up:

I can't believe this.

And that's not all!  Look at these nine species getting freaky:

Seriously, everyone but me.

What the hell, nature?  You're either trying to knock me down and split my head open with ice and hail, or drown me (floods), or cook me (hello summer sun), or blow me away (hurricanes) or attack me on the ground (poison ivy, snakes, spiders, other bitey things) and now, adding insult to injury, big, hairy, ungroomed animals (some of whom are in possession of some frightening teeth for such shenanigans) are getting it on with, er, wild abandon.

But you can't work on some sort of transatlantic bridge or teleportation capability?

Seriously!