For my housemate, the countdown has begin. In less than 9 months he will be graced with the presence of a small, possibly hairy, replicant of himself. There's less than 9 months left of peace. Everyone knows that babies are loud, demanding poo factories. (Adults are not much better really)
For most, sex is like a cosmic electrified candy... The apple in the garden of eden... Generation after generation the same thing has happened for so long that we now call it "the miracle of life". The real miracle is that we've never learned that 12 seconds to 4 hours of steamy hot passion often leads to 20+ years of unsteamy, frosty parental monotony...

"mmm candy... *zap!* ow!... mmm candy... *zap!* ow!"

Yeah I'm cynical I know... Unlike the accidental demon spawn of so many other passionate embraces, my child will be a pure angel. I know what you're thinking:
"What's one lone speck of perfection in the torrential birthrate of idiocracy-esque rampant, unprotected libido?!" Fear not padwan for I have a plan...

Unnatural Selection

Once I have completed an extensive seeding campaign, I'll retire to behind the silk curtains of my lovenest and be fed grapes for 9 months while I await the inevitable phone calls. Once I have accrued the names and addresses of the first 3000 of my children, I'll gather them together to live with me in my Greco-Roman palace.
I'm assuming most will only last in the pits for a few months, but some may survive for years, feasting on the flesh of their fallen brethren. The lone winner and survivor of course will be given the title of "Most Awesomest", cleaned up and raised under my devoted, infinitely kind and eternally loving care.

Desperate measures, because life is too important to leave things to chance...