The Perils of Biology

Friend to me: Biology is ruining my marriage.
I to f: Whut?
F, distinctly: Biology. Is ruining. My marriage.
I, with a touch of asperity: By ‘whut’ I mean, ‘I’m amazed. Please explain’.
F, with a deep sigh: I’m stronger. I have a far higher pain threshold. I’m laid-back, easily adaptible and take orders better. On top of that, I’d *love* to do it — I wouldn’t be scared or anything, I’d revel in it!
I, sternly: Darling. To repeat myself, ‘whut?’.
F, impatiently: *I* should be the one having our babies. Not her, poor thing. And I’m not letting her do it, either, not with such¬†nervousness¬† But had it been me being preggers… Rims, I tell you, we’d be doing it like a shot!
I, gently: But sweetheart, you’re a man.
F: I know! I *said* biology was messing up my marriage, didn’t I?



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