Sunday, 13 February 2011

Who Needs Men?

When I was a teenager I remember reading a book coyly entitled "Who Needs Men?". It was set in a dystopian future where men were almost entirely wiped out, apart from a few chaps hiding in the highlands of Scotland. I can't remember exactly how the women reproduced, whether it was through cloning or stashes of frozen sperm but, as the title so eloquently hinted, the idea was that we can pretty much reproduce with all but minimal male intervention - thus rendering them obsolete.

(I also seem to remember that the plot revolved around a "man-slayer" Amazonian warrior who was kidnapped by one of the few rogue bands of men, and was systematically raped by their enigmatic leader until she realised that actually she loved a bit of brute force and stubble-chinned action, and renounced her formerly Sapphic ways to run off and breed naturally in the highlands of Scotland.

Needless to say the book was written by a man.

In the seventies.

But I digress.)

It turns out that I am living in that dystopian future.

After diligently injecting me on a nightly basis the husband announced he was due to indulge in  a .. what is the word? Oh yes a 'social life' and therefore would not be around at 10:30pm for his shooting up duties.

So in preparation for this abandonment in my hour of need, with a trembling hand, nerve of steel, and the husband on hand to advise, I injected myself.

It was easy. A veritable piece of piss.

Not that it was painful before, but when I did it I could hardly feel anything. I could tell when I was pushing too hard and therefore adjust accordingly and, strangely, I didn't get the same urge to giggle that I get when the husband diligently performs his duties. (His injecting, not the other.)

Since then, whether he is at home or not, I've been administering my own drugs.

I have made the husband redundant - from now on sisters are doing it for themselves.

All he needs to do is report for duty for a quick one off the wrist once my eggs are ripe, and then I can fully dispense with him.

Ok maybe he can stick around to give a bit of emotional support, hand holding, dog walking when it is dark and raining, cooking, cuddling, chocolate dispensing, being the butt of just about every joke I make, reaching things in high places, lifting ...

So, I've talked myself into giving him a reprieve, he can stay for now.

But, word to the husband (for he reads this here blog), just remember your coat's on a shuggely peg.


  1. Good for you! Glad you are able to do the injecting yourself. I completely agree that being in control somehow makes it a bit easier.

  2. Haha. This post made me laugh. I love your sense of humor. And you rock giving yourself shots. I could never do that!

  3. I'd keep him around for a bit, just to make sure you've got some in the freezer for siblings and such. ;)

  4. I had to give myself the shots too! I think I would have been all over hubby if he screwed them up! Glad you didn't find them too awful, and that you're allowing hubby to stick around!! he hee

  5. Who Needs Men? Not me right husband is being so annoying that I am tempted to kill him.

    Hurray for you for working out that the shots are no big deal!

  6. Well done. I may have mentioned this before, but I actually prefer doing them myself, probably because of my need to control when/where/how I feel the pain. The PIO are's all about the angle and for those you really will need his help (at least in the beginning) so tell him to get his drinking done now.

    (Just looked up "shuggely peg"...the sack, eh? I like that. I'm going to threaten my husband with that if he gets out of line.).

  7. Haha.. good job.

    Also, that book sounds horrible and kind of cool, all at once.

  8. Should you have posted this the night before Valentine's?

  9. I had the same experience. I prefer to give myself shots. I found the anticipation of being needled by the mister much worse than doing it myself.

    Of course this does not apply to PIO.

  10. Good for you! This last go-round I even figured out the PIO on my own!

  11. That book sounds... odd. And despite the lovely list you made, I sometimes get the feeling that my husband does suffer from the fact that he's "not needed", apparently (or at least the outcome wouldn't be any different if he were there). Which makes me sad.


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