In search of the Lone Ranger…part 2
So kids, the SA appointment went okay, with only one minor hiccup. But, before I get into that, I want to make a couple of observations about the fertility clinics:
- They should not allow hot women to work in these clinics. Now my dear daughter, I don’t want you going off half cocked thinking I’m being sexist – its just that it’s not fair on us poor blokes (and Son, you’ll find that women don’t think it’s at all sexist if you’re calling them hot…only if you’re commenting on someone else – double standards I know, but that’s just the way they are!!). You’re sitting in the waiting room and some stunning 20 something with blond hair and blue eyes looking hot and super intelligent in her lab coat sticks her face round the door, calls your name and gives you a cute smile before taking you into her lab, where she then proceeds to give you instructions on masturbating into a container…and this leads me to point 2
- They should keep the temperature in these places to a reasonable level – not make them 40°C so that your cheeks are flushed even when you’re not feeling awkward or embarrassed. I’m a big guy, it’s 10°C outside, so I’m wrapped up nice and warm (like any sensible person), I’ve just spent 15 minutes in the waiting room with staff in short sleeve tops dressed as if it’s the middle of summer , so that by the time Miss Gorgeous Lab Technician’s talking to me, I have cheeks the colour of Snow White’s poisoned apple and look as if I’m dying of embarrassment or fantasising of her providing more assistance in the sample gathering than just the sterile container – IT’S NOT COOL!!!
I mean I’d psyched myself up not to be in any way shy or awkward. I waltzed up the stairs like Gene Kelly – not a care in the world, I sauntered up to the desk and nonchalantly told the receptionist that I was there for a semen analysis, ignoring the top secret code words they’d provided for just these circumstances – like any other person in the waiting room can’t figure out exactly what I’m there for when I rock up without my wife!!!!!!!!! (in case you’re wondering, the clever code word was a ‘Test 1’ – must have spent seconds thinking that one up).
If they were really trying to hide the obvious, they could come up with a better plan than that…they should have some hard-hats and a tool belt that you can strap on, make the secret code word “I’m here to take another look at the dripping tap in your andrology room”…that would keep people guessing!!! Or give you a clipboard and a coolerbox to carry in and say “I’m delivering the cryogenically frozen embryos for the FET procedures scheduled for today”. Hell, even “I’m the courier delivering the semen samples” which has the added bonus of actually being true! … Not “I’m here for Test 1″… EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT TEST 1 IS!!!!
But none of that mattered, because I was prepared..no way was I looking embarrassed…until I’d spent 15 minutes in the waiting room from Hell – well it was warm enough to be right next door to hades!
But, moving on, Miss Gorgeous Lab Technician shows me to the lovely little room set aside for this particular activity…it’s okay, kinda small, but hey, it’s not like Miss Gorgeous Lab Technician’s staying in there with me…it’s just me, the chair and the table with the most dog-eared, manky looking magazines you’ve ever seen. The thought goes through my mind about judging a book by it’s cover, so I pick up the top one (after I’ve closed the door and removed my winter fleecy jacket because I’m about to pass out from the heat exhaustion and that’s before I’ve even done anything) and flick through it…it’s the swimsuit edition…which is better than nothing I suppose! Now I don’t want to insinuate that the magazine was out of date or anything, but it was hand-drawn on a scroll of decaying papyrus and Miss October was Cleopatra!! This wasn’t going to be a lot of help…
But, your old man must have been a boy scout in a previous life…I’d come prepared! I sneakily snapped a few shots of your mom getting dressed this morning on my cell phone…HA who da man!! We were in business, so to speak.
I’ll skip the rest of the gory details, but this is where the one and only hiccup occurred…I’ve been so focused on this search for the Lone Ranger, that at the very moment of…urm…uh…providing the sample, shall we say, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the irresistible urge to swing my one arm in the air above my head and shout out at the top of my lungs….HI-HO SILVER, AWAY!!!!