I’m Donating Sperm To My Single Lady Friend

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The first appointment was for private counseling. A middle aged woman asked me a variety of questions, the first being why I wanted to be a sperm donor. I said it was for Francesca and that I knew how important this was for her. I told her what I thought would happen as the child was conceived and grew up and how I’d feel in various situations. I couldn’t know my emotional reactions, but my essential approach was that it was Francesca’s child. All decisions were hers and I was only providing the DNA. This went on for 45 minutes, after which Francesca joined us and we had half an hour of group counseling.

The counselor said she didn’t see any issues with me as a donor based on our conversations. Francesca explained why she wanted me to be the donor and why we shouldn’t be together in a traditional relationship. We explained that we were in very different places in our lives with different outlooks towards our futures; she was ready to put down roots, and I have always been a bit of a vagabond, moving from place to place and changing careers.

We talked about custody in case Francesca was in an accident and whether I would see the child. I said that since we were old friends, I would have a role in the child’s life, but the capacity of that role would be up to Francesca. In all decisions, my participation would end at the donation, and everything after that would be up to her, and eventually, the child. This is the agreement we made.

With the go ahead from the counselor, next were the tests. I had visions of physicals and shots, but it was much simpler. I waited in a doctor’s office, gave blood, then waited some more, and was escorted to a private room where I would produce my donation. I was given a sealed and sterile cup with my name on it and was told to write the exact time my sample was produced. There was a little cupboard in the wall where I would put the filled cup and a light to turn on when the sample was ready. There was a computer and drawers full of magazines for stimuli. The nurse wished me luck and I locked the door after her.

I looked through the magazines, a smattering of Playboy, Penthouse and Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues. The computer had one icon: a link to a free porn video site. It all felt so clinical and sterile. I went for the videos and after a few minutes ejaculated in the cup. I washed my hands, noted the time, put the cup in the cupboard, turned on the light and walked out.

I remember thinking how strange it was leaving the clinic. I had been there for four hours and had several friendly encounters with the staff, but as I left that little room, no one made eye contact with me. I went back the next day to deliver my second donation. I checked in with reception, waited in the lobby, was escorted to the same small room, produced another sample and left. I texted Francesca to let her know I was finished.

She brought me to the airport the next morning and I flew back to New York where I patiently wait to find out if it worked.

(photo: koya979 / Shutterstock)

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