I Have Reached the Age Where I feel I Owe An Apology to Millions of Sperm Who I Cheated of Life

Read Time:3 Minute, 28 Second

Aging is a son of a bitch isn’t it? It really, really is. There’s nothing we can do about it at least physically. We are born, we age, we die – and, to be fair, those of us who age before we die have had a good deal really. Sometimes babies don’t make it and sometimes little kiddies get run over and things so we shouldn’t really whine should we? YES WE SHOULD! Aging is a son of a bitch!

sperm

Now look, I know that before I was was born I had to be conceived. In order to be conceived I had to be damn good at swimming in the right direction in a race for life with millions of other swimmers – well, millions assuming my dad was fine in that area anyway.

Even if he had a shortage there were still a bloody large number of other sperm who rather fancied a shot at drinking Bud and shagging women and having a bloody good time yet I made it. I won! I may have never won the lottery or anything else really but I won the race for life!

So did you actually or you wouldn’t be reading this.

None of us know how long we’ve got. We can assume we aren’t going to make it to 100 + – although a few do. We can assume that we might, just might, get through to maybe 60 or 70 or 80 is we are really really lucky.

An old school pal of mine made it to 40, had a brain bleed and dropped dead. No fun at all really – albeit he knew nothing about it so, perhaps, going suddenly younger than you expected is probably better than going slowly and in pain.

I seem to have reached the age when I’m occasionally thinking ‘what’s it all about then?’

It’s all right for Shakespeare – well it was when he was alive – he left a legacy and is remembered for being amazing. Lots of people are remembered for any number of things but most of us aren’t.

We will be remembered, possibly, by our immediate family and friends but afterwards? Nope. Zilch. We will have been and gone.

We will have won the race for life and then pissed it all away having a bloody great time. Disgraceful. What fun!

I have reached the age where I feel I owe an apology to millions of sperm who I cheated of life by any means necessary to be alive. I probably used a sperm equivalent of a baseball bat or something. I quite conceivably (if you’ll pardon the pun) head butted my way past any number of far more worthy sperm to get to that damn egg.

There they all were at the starting line. Poets and play writes, athletes and doctors, the courageous and the loving, the hero’s and the magnificent all waiting for our dad to pop his cork.

Away we all went. The brain surgeons and astro physicists, the geniuses and the generous, the beautiful and the brave and me.

Somehow and, knowing me, almost certainly by way of cheating – I probably found a short cut or something – I arrived first at the egg. Did I hesitate? Did I think ‘No! That sperm will be a cardiologist and save many peoples lives!’. Did I think ‘No! That sperm will be the next Mother Theresa and spread love and hope around the world!’.

Did I hell as like. I though ‘Sod you losers I’m heading for a bloody party I am!’

So, like everyone, I am ageing. Entirely by luck / chance / fate (delete as appropriate) I have survived for almost 58 years. Many far more worthy humans have lived and died as I have simply meandered along occasionally causing mayhem.

I, and I suspect, most if not all of us, should feel extraordinarily guilty that we, amongst all the billions and trillions of sperm involved at our conception, are still here doing, probably, not much really.

Well, if you want to feel guilty about it I quite understand and empathise.

Me?

Bugger guilt. Party on dude!!!

About Post Author

Neil Bamforth

I am English first, British second and never ever European. I have supported Oldham Athletic FC for 50 years which has made me immune from depression. My taste buds have died due to too many red hot curries so I drink Kronenburg beer and milk - sometimes in the same glass. I have a wife, daughter, 9 cats and I like toast.
Happy
Happy
0 %
Sad
Sad
0 %
Excited
Excited
0 %
Sleepy
Sleepy
0 %
Angry
Angry
0 %
Surprise
Surprise
0 %
0 0 votes
Article Rating
Subscribe
Notify of

9 Comments
Newest
Oldest Most Voted
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
mrloser82
8 years ago

What if, instead of beating out doctors, you beat out potential Tory, National Front and GOP candidates? If you take that view, you’ve done more than your fair share to help the world.

Reply to  mrloser82
8 years ago

Damn good idea I say!

Reply to  mrloser82
8 years ago

Good point Mr L!

jess
8 years ago

I delight (sorry, not sorry) in the monthly murders I commit, because it pisses off the forced birthers when you tell them that, as they are going on and on about abortion being murder.

Reply to  jess
8 years ago

Of course it isn’t!…er….well…if had been me it would have been mind you 😉

Reply to  jess
8 years ago

Ha! Yes. I’ve always found the business of murdering sperm rather delightful.

jess
Reply to  Professor Mike
8 years ago

AYUP, just like jacking off or wanking as Norman would call it, is reckless abandonment(thx Elle Woods)

Marsha Woerner
8 years ago

Nope, no guilt. No time for that! I suppose that I could spend a whole lot of time feeling guilty about all of the bacteria that I have killed recovering from illnesses or spraying Lysol, or I could feel bad every time someone dies in a car crash or airplane accident, but what good would that do? I am here. Others have died – whether they are unchosen sperms or unsuccessful disease bacteria, this is what happened. Did I affect any of it? Knowingly? Some of it (I took antibiotics, for instance…), but is the outcome the best? Irrelevant! It is what it is!
Nope, no guilt!

Reply to  Marsha Woerner
8 years ago

Good girl!!! PARTY ON!!!! x

Previous post 7 Looney Right-Wing Predictions About SCOTUS Gay Marriage Ruling
Next post Miss USA Doesn’t Need ‘The Donald’ After All
9
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x