Okay, this is not really my story to tell, but it is on my mind almost daily, so here goes.
My mother attended an all-girls Catholic high school. One of the mousiest, most nervous and awkward nuns was assigned the unwelcome duty of providing sex education.
This nun decided that to minimize embarrassment, she would place an empty coffee can on her desk, and anyone who had a question could put it into the can anonymously and each week they would take some questions out of the can and answer them.
So the first week went by, and the coffee can got pretty full. The time came for the first class session, and the nun pulled the first question from the can and read, “What is masturbation?”
Sister turned bright pink and asked if anyone in the class had an answer to that question. No one did. So they decided they’d come back to it later.
The second question was someone messing with the nun by asking, “What if you’re just walking down the street, and a flying sperm lands on you and you get pregnant?”
At this, the Sister ended the class. Permanently. And for weeks the girls carried cans of raid and fly swatters and whatnot to “protect themselves”. The Sister requested that the anonymous questioner come to speak with her privately, but naturally she never came forward.
So, why, do you ask, am I thinking of flying sperm all the time?
Well, I am getting old (I’ll turn 35 late this summer). I have a few floaters now. And one of them looks like this *warning: bad paint drawing to follow*:
I mean it seriously even looks like you can see the genetic material and everything.
If I point my eyes all the way to my right, I can see that bugger. When I try to focus on it, it “swims” across my field of vision and disappears off to my left. Flying Sperm!!