100 Lessons in life – #97 don’t trust your ovaries to pick your pals…



Menstrual synching.

It’s a weird phenomena that’s gone from a dubious biological process to woman-code for ‘we’re real mates now because we surf the crimson wave AT THE SAME TIME’ to a genuine reason for pretty much everything. I bet Trump has some thoughts on it. Anyway, I guess it’s the female equivalent of touching another dude’s balls in rugby or barbecuing things together in meat-based show of harmonious male kinship. When your period syncs with another chicks, you are BLOOD sisters…

Like all of nature’s wrong turns, it starts at university. You move into a rat-infested abode with resolute strangers, and by study week, you’re all synced up, yelping in pain, downing litres of tea and ploughing through bricks of Galaxy. You, are one. You, have synced. Your ovaries have decided that you will be friends FORVER. Or at least until you can all recite every word of 10 Things I Hate About You in sublime unity. In fact, university was when psychology student Martha McClintock, first noted that her close mates in an all-female dorm got their flow (haha, sorry. I’ve run out of period words) at the same time. This was in the Seventies, mind, when all scientific research should probably be discounted due to the effortless and widespread procurement of hydroponic pot.

But things change. Somewhere along the line the pill happens and your infallible ability to judge a good mate from a shitty one is ravaged beyond repair. How do you decide who is a decent human being and who is a douche if your ovaries aren’t guiding the way? When you’re on the pill, that little guy is the new controller, and not your ovaries. The question is, if you’re going to inwardly haemorrhage every sodding month at least there ought to be some benefits (very scientific ones, like ‘menstrual syncing’, of course.) BTW, this is not a reason to come off the pill – I’m merely conducting a thought experiment. (That’s a genuine thing BTW – if you did Philosophy at Uni, you’ll know!)

Sadly this realisation that your innards have forsaken you is part of growing up. And at some point your reproductive system becomes a baby maker rather than soul mate spirit guide. Lesson in life? Stop talking to your ovaries, transfer your judgement to your gut (it’s your real second brain after all…and that’s actually proven by science) and ditch anyone in your life who makes you have a sad.

Life is far too short.



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