The problem pages of magazines are loaded with complaints to the effect that the correspondent cannot get laid, get laid enough, or get laid with the right person, or in the right way or with the right frequency.
I wonder if this issue cuts across species?
Other species have their mating season. Often, it's in late summer, so that progeny can be born in the next spring and be nourished through the greater part of their first year on nature's bounty, increasing their chances of survival.
In man, apparently, sunshine on the pituitary gland brings on the urge. For the same reason?
But it occurred to me that maybe the problem page obsessions are misplaced.
What if we're only meant to mate once a year?
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