In the real world, ladies wear their sexiest, most delicate panties in the hopes of seducing a hunky guy into a night of passion. In the infertile world, the act of sexual intercourse is a forgone conclusion. If an infertile myrtle is sporting her pink lace thong, it is most likely an attempt to coax/tease/dare her period into making an appearance. Similar techniques may include going swimming, making a bikini wax appointment, or wearing white pants (though, ironically, never after Labour Day). It's all about Murphy's law - if you set yourself up for a possible inconvenience, that inconvenience will inevitably find you.
You may be aware of Murphy's law, and you may understand how it functions, but you are a fool if you think you can outsmart it. Case in point: after finishing my prescribed course of Provera to bring on a period, I began wearing my finest underwear in the hopes of speeding up the process. After all, my husband would be returning home from a long business trip in a week and it would be lovely to get most of the bloody mess over with by the time he arrived. But a week went by and still nothing.
By the time I was driving to the airport to pick him up I had resigned myself to the belief that aunt flow would never come and I would require further medical intervention. At least I would be free to fornicate. Absence had made our hearts grow fonder (if you know what I'm sayiiiiin') but by the time we got home it was midnight and we decided to go straight to bed and get busy in the morning. Well you know what happened in the morning. I have my husband back but the crimson tide is upon us. Murphy's law. Lesson learned.
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