An adaptation to what?
Overpopulation. Perhaps it is nature's way of culling the herd, a type of birth control. When the population reaches a certain density, something in the human psyche gets triggered to convince the poor soul to run around chasing after rumps instead of nice loamy woman thighs.
Ohhh, I just have to...no, I can't...but it's funny...how could I even...no...it's, er Free Republic...a family board...fine, then...hrumph.
After lenghty deliberations, I have decided against making a funny out of the quoted statement.