The lovebugs are coming out here in the southern nether regions of Georgia and as I drove home today, splattering couples in airborne coitus with the windshield of the truck I only use to take off garbage or to go to work when K has early duty or I'm running late, I started thinking how wonderful that life must be.
You just don't see lovebugs except for that brief time in the late summer when you can't not see them (unless you live too far north for them, in which case you never see them), so I'm going to assume they're like mayflies and a few other species of insects that only live for days before collapsing in an oversexed heap of corpses.
I honestly can't think of a better lifestyle. This is sexdrugsandrocknroll on fast forward. You spend most of your life in infancy, take a little nap and wake up fully matured and ready to bump uglies. You fly around desperately looking for a good lay (really, any lay will do), attach yourself at the rear and fly around in orgasmic bliss until you collide with a large moving object on that strange river where the water is hard and dry. Sure their life is short and rather pointless, but they don't have to go through the misery that is life while not actively having sex. Besides, for the vast majority of us, life is rather long and pointless. Long, short, it's all without point. Sin punto, if you get my drift.
They also don't have to deal with parenting, which makes you regret that particular bit of sex on a regular basis. I think I could deal with la petite mort being a little more gros in order to avoid having to work, pay bills, deal with whining children, be confronted with the idiocy of mankind, or be bored, but then I am a shallow fellow.