(This post first appeared on The Nervous Breakdown in July, 2006.)
SAN DIEGO, CA-
I’m not a voyeur, generally speaking.
I don’t stand on my balcony, staring into the windows of the building opposite, contemplating the little lives of the people who live and work in rooms across the airshaft.
They’re mostly small business owners with cluttered offices and old carpet and bookshelves that could use organizing.
Not all that interesting.
But today I saw something unusual.
Not in the offices, on my balcony rail.
Flies having sex.
Well, I thought, This I gotta see.
(The first shot, taken through the window, magnified.)
So I took a closer look to satisfy my curiosity, against my better judgment, scared these flies would take off suddenly, flying tandem straight into my hair.
If you’ve ever had a bee or a fly or a moth tangle in your hair, you know the fear I mean.
A winged insect in hair is a great deal worse than having, say, an ant on your leg (unless it’s a fire ant) and somewhat easier to bear than having a wasp land on your middle knuckle, stinging it, which results in an appendage that swells balloon-like and keeps you up at night with the unbearable pain.
Yeah, that happened.
Stinging or not, there’s nothing worse than having bugs on your person.
(I held my camera as close as I could but still had to crop like crazy.)
Funny thing about Fly Sex.
They don’t move, during.
There’s no bumping, no grinding. No motion, no rhythm, no blues.
All that action (and by action I mean the ejaculation of fly sperm to fertilize fly eggs that will turn into larva in some basin of dirty, standing water on that annoying neighbor’s back porch) occurs within the exoskeleton of the female.
Out of sight.
When it’s done, it’s done.
No kiss goodbye, no exchange of phone numbers, no big white dress necessary.
And I thought, They’re not even enjoying the view!
(This is the view in question.)
But hey, they’re doing their thing.
Procreating.
Ensuring the continuation of their species, fulfilling their Darwinist destiny after having found each other despite the odds.
Ignoring me.
(Since they’re the ones facing my window, perhaps the flies are the voyeurs in this scenario? I’m thinking so.)
I’d like to say these flies provided an epiphany.
I’d like to say that I’m changed, that I glimpsed eternity or history or the frailty of the planet or the sanctity of life.
The Answer to the Ultimate Question.
It would have been nice if I could have passed that answer on to you.
Instead, I got the fly swatter.
