I once tried to make a person with another person. We pulled the goalie. Nothing. Maybe the swimmers were too busy with celebratory high-fiving to find their way? Maybe they were disoriented? What is this place? this isn't cotton! I’m calling bullshit on every lifetime story about teen pregnancy, where fifteen second sessions of awkward backseat romance result in successful conception.
Getting the swimmers tested is nothing short of a masturbatory luxury. Even if you aren't trying to make a baby and have an extended lunch break its kinda worth checking the status. The nurse walks you to your personal "chamber-of-hope" and systematically explains the features of the room. The dimmer-switch activates mood lighting. The cd player/cassette combo helps muffle the lab technician chatter separated by a thin metal door for which the hand off is made. It’s kinda like a truck stop glory hole only square, and less personal. Hopefully it’s the only time I will ever share my semen through a wall cutout. Oh, and there was a picture of the ocean. You would think one of those motivational “you can do it” types but just a basic water color like your aunt did in her early 40’s when she decided to take up painting after her third divorce. Not relevant I guess.
The nurse provides brief instructions, and in an Aladdin “I can show you the world” kinda way motions you towards a cornucopia of material that lays waiting to help you through the journey. I was intrigued by all the missing mailing labels. Who do these get sent to? So much mystery. I wasn’t interested. I had my phone, free unrestricted Wi-Fi, and a bookmarked selection that represents years of solid research that I am unapologetically proud of. I was good to go.
After two attempts this was one drivers test I couldn’t pass. I had a thing. I needed to fix that thing. Without hesitation, I let a steady handed man put me under to undo the kink. With a blade, mere inches away from my valuables he tried to re-plumb a system in which a little Joshua could be made (this is in no way gender specific. I would have named her Joshua as well). It didn't work. It was a devastating blow, like when the McRib went away for the first time, but worse. Maybe it was one of those "facts of life". Fact #2,345 don't have let this guy make a human. But I tried, we tried to do it. I wanted that baby or maybe I just wanted the stick figure family on the minivan window. Instead we got divorced..