Have you ever watched an episode of The Maury Povich Show that involved paternity tests? Rhetorical question, they're all about paternity tests. Anyway, at some point you probably heard this:
"Well, Maury, I know it was Ray Bob because I remember exactly six weeks earlier to the day from when my doctor said I was six weeks pregnant, Ray Bob and I didn't use any protection. I don't use protection at all, actually, because it's a sin. But Ray Bob was the only person I had sex with that week. I didn't sleep with the other three since the Friday before that. It was a party."
"We were celebrating the fact that it was Tuesday."
Call her a slut all you want, but you'd have to admit, that logic seems at least sort of valid, right? Six weeks pregnant means the guy she had sex with exactly six weeks ago is the lucky winner, simple as that. How are they ever wrong?
But Actually ...
If it were really as simple as that, Maury wouldn't even need paternity tests, just a staff full of people who can decipher hillbilly speak and count backward. But what people fail to take into account is that sperm doesn't die just because you've zipped up and moved on to the next suitor.
It turns out these little fuckers are built to last.