No sex please, we're busy.

I've always felt I was different from the common herd. Better, for one thing; more balanced, less volatile and with a far more catholic (small c) outlook on life than most. But, as generally understanding as I am of humanity's failings, I've often been perplexed by 'your' preoccupation with sex. That, more than practically any other weakness, informs my view that if there ever was a god, he had a rotten sense of humour.

If I believed in him/her/it I'd thank him/her/it for my ability to rise above 'it'. Don't get me wrong, I'm partial to a bit of 'the other', I just don't let it - I've never let it - rule my life. Unlike mere humans, who let their base lusts drive their every waking moment, I recognise that sex is okay, just not quite as good as the real thing. And being free of constant controlling, debilitating urges has allowed me to develop into the erudite genius I demonstrably am today. It's also probably responsible for my modesty. (I'm the most modest man in the world!)

I have, however, wondered if it was just me. So I was quite pleased to find this report into the lifestyles of the asexuals. I'm not like them, of course - I'm not a freak! - but I can very easily empathise with them. Undistracted by the demands of those unreasonable hormones, we should easily be capable of outwitting the animalistic masses and should they turn nasty, we ought to be able to outrun them, unencumbered by bulging ballsacks bursting with unspent population paste.

Too many unthinking acts of wanton sexuality, churning out too many unwanted, unplanned, pointless people whose only fulfilment in life is achieving the few seconds of indescribable sensation which is pitifully inadequate reward for all the effort that goes into it, yet somehow reinforces primal urges to do it all again. How utterly tiresome.

I have no desire to procreate; the world isn't ready for another one of me. Besides, I tried it once and I can take it or leave it. Give me a good book any day.