Sex is becoming troublesome, By Funke Egbemode

By Funke Egbemode
(egbemode3@gmail.com)

At this rate, before having sex, people will soon need to sign a consent form, call their doctor, consult Google, check their blood pressure and ask their village people if the coast is clear.
Because sex is becoming troublesome.

You open your phone and one medical expert is warning that excessive exertion and repeated ejaculation may be dangerous for some people, particularly those with underlying health problems. Ah. So even enjoyment now has speed limits?
Before you recover from that, another headline arrives screaming about chemicals called PFAS allegedly detected in some condoms and suggesting possible long-term health concerns.
Excuse me?
The same condom we were told to carry everywhere? The little rubber raincoat that has been preached from secondary school to NYSC orientation camp?
Because the other side of the argument remains stubbornly important: condoms, particularly latex condoms when used correctly and consistently, are highly effective at reducing the risk of HIV and several other sexually transmitted infections.
So Brother Kunle is now standing beside the bed confused.
Wear condom: one frightening internet headline is whispering PFAS.
Don’t wear condom: HIV and his STI cousins are clearing their throats.
Abstain: then somebody forwards an article about ejaculation frequency and prostate health.
Science, please pick a struggle!

The human sacrifice at Minna shrine, By FUNKE EGBEMODE

To be clear, guys, nobody has medically prescribed three rounds every Tuesday and Thursday as prostate medication. Research has found an association between higher ejaculation frequency and a lower incidence of prostate cancer in some groups of men. It does not mean that celibacy causes prostate cancer or that sex is a doctor’s prescription.
But try explaining that nuance to Uncle Jide.
The moment he reads “frequent ejaculation associated with lower prostate cancer risk,” he will screenshot only that paragraph and send it to his wife.
“Darling, see what Harvard says. This is now a health programme.”
Madam should please read the whole article before she becomes a compulsory member of the National Prostate Maintenance Association.

And just when you think you have understood the scientific hazards, we Africans introduce our own traditional department of sexual risk management.
Magun.
Science may not have a file for that one, but Yoruba folklore certainly does.
There is the alleged one that forbids crossing a river. Another allegedly has a problem with okro. There is the gaari department. Then there is the terrifying “don’t climb” variety—the legendary one where an adulterous man supposedly somersaults three times, stretches and dies.
Imagine surviving PFAS, dodging HIV, protecting your prostate, managing your blood pressure—and then somebody’s husband has spiritually padlocked the premises.
Sex has become WAEC practical.
There are simply too many instructions.
Don’t do too much.
Don’t do too little.
Use protection.
Read what your protection contains.
Know your HIV status.
Know your partner’s status.
Watch your heart.
Remember your prostate.
And, apparently, before climbing any fence that does not belong to you, investigate whether the owner has installed traditional anti-burglary equipment.
Perhaps that last one is the easiest problem to solve.
Stay on your own property.
In fact, that may be the only sexual-health advice requiring neither Harvard research nor a village meeting.
Enjoy responsibly. Protect yourself. Get tested. See your doctor when necessary.
And please, for heaven’s sake, stop climbing other people’s fences.
There are already enough ways to die.