February 06, 2003
I was IMing a couple days ago with this man, whom I love madly though we've never met, when the subject of sperm donation came up, and I realized I'd never mentioned my time as a sperm donor in these pages. Rather than write a long entry about a series of events that happened years ago, I am going to post the lyrics to the (true) song I wrote about the experience. It's called "In The Lesbians' Bathroom." Lyrics are in italics; stage directions are in parentheses and not italicized.
So I'm here
In the lesbians' bathroom.
I've got my own plastic baggie
For making a kid
Right here in my hand.
(Looks at right hand. Sees baggie in right hand.)
I guess I need that hand.
(Shifts baggie to left hand.)
Right here in my hand.
So I'm here
In the lesbians' bathroom.
I brought the right reading material
For making a kid:
Honcho magazine.
Good thing I thought ahead.
The lesbians don't subscribe to Honcho.
I had to get a sperm count
And a motility test.
(Those little guys can swim, lemme tell you!)
And sixty-seven percent of my sperm
Are not deformed.
(Apparently that number is high
Since they started throwing chemicals and shit in the water.)
The lesbians are waiting
With their turkey baster in hand
('Cause they're old fashioned).
So let's just see what Honcho magazine
Has got to say:
"He opened up his eyes and he gasped
At the low-hanging bag of love of the youthful Umberto."
Oh!
Oh!
Oh!
Oh!
Oh!
OH!
(Almost!)
OHHHHH—
(But no!)
What am I doing?
Me, a father?
Who am I kidding?
Why should I bother?
I can't even commit to a television program,
Much less a child,
Especially not since they moved Gilmore Girls opposite Buffy.
So I'm here
In the lesbians' bathroom.
My senses are numb with terror.
I'm making a kid!
What if he needs advice?
What if he wants to play ball?
What if he throws like a girl?
What if he dresses like a girl?
What if he's . . . kinda cool?
What if he needs a dad?
It might not be so bad.
Especially not with Umberto beside me.
Ee.
Ee.
Eh.
EH!
AH!
AAAH!
AAAAAAAAAAH—
(Breaks off in supreme frustration. Yells offstage.)
IT'LL TAKE ME AS LONG AS IT TAKES ME!
The upshot of the story, in case you're curious: we tried for two years and failed. Not a single doctor understood why. There are no little Fausti running around terrorizing their playmates. We didn't get to perform the mitzvah (Hebrew for both "good deed" and "commandment") of being fruitful and multiplying.
They are considering adoption.
Posted by Faustus, MD at 03:58 PM
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Comments
1) john said (on 02/ 7/03 at 02:03 PM):
that was so beautiful.
2) nat said (on 02/ 7/03 at 05:19 PM):
You should definitely be passing your genes along! But I'm one of the last of the non-reproducing lesbians so I promise I won't pester you for swimmers.
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