Thursday, May 20, 2010
If I were a man, I'd donate my sperm.
One of the sundry "ETC" type job postings on craigslist I encounter repeatedly is for egg donors. At $5,000 or more a go, it's tempting to consider syringing up with hormones to give would-be moms and pops their fair shot at parenthood. I only hesitate for two reasons: 1) I'm now out of the ideal egg donor age range, and 2) My own resources are finite.
Wouldn't I know? Every time I turn on my computer I'm repeatedly assaulted with stories about how all of my shiny, healthy academic-superstar-future-leader type eggs parachuted out on a suicide mission the very second I turned 30----and all that remains are a motley assortment of future criminals, bored, flatulent dysphorics, and Sarah Palin fans.
We all know how scare tactics tend to nudge us into one mindless life choice after the next, so I'm learning to filter out these stories. What's the moral anyway? The audience to whom these messages are directed won't exactly find this "advice" helpful, as they are either ambivalent about having children, lack the means to support a child, or are facing an array of unsavory relationship options. All poor circumstances for considering the weighty matter of parenthood.
Most women know that *supplies are limited,* and that what we give up just won't be comin' back. I'm going to hang on to the rest of my batch of little miscreants just in case. ;)
Not so for men. Not so.
Men have the remarkable ability to produce all the wish-fulfilling procreative awesomeness they need to make a needy couple/person happy. If I were a man, I would donate my sperm. Consider this: The average sperm bank pays $100 for each "contribution." So, this could be a tidy little source of commission-based income that won't dry up for a long, long time. Far more importantly, with minimal effort, you have the ability to alter the course of somebody's existence for the better. Think about that! Most of us spend ages trying to figure out how we can impact the world, make it a better place. You can Chloe, Jason, Max, and Lulu your way to a better world with a flick of the wrist. Woot!
Yes, I know that I just do-si-doed around some serious moral issues. What about if the kid wants to meet you when they turn 18, etc, etc. Well, in the U.S. you can still opt into anonymity, but that wouldn't be very sporting, would it? Look-----how bad could it really be to meet some of your donor progeny? Most likely, it would be one of the coolest things that ever happened to you. Meeting somebody with whom you share biological material past the point of having to: A) Change their diapers. B) Pay for their braces. C) Weather being told that you're hated repeatedly during those rocky teen years. No, I'm not promoting some weird version of negligent, Lucy-goosy "parenting" with a few fringe benefits. Rather, the child would be unlikely to perceive you as a parental figure (we all know A,B, and C is the stuff parental bonding is really made of,) but somebody of great interest with whom they share common features and personality traits. At the risk of revealing my patchouli-scented roots, I have to say----would it not be terrific to encounter one more person that you could...just...maybe...love?
Also, this is one way in which you can fulfill your biological destiny of seed-spreading without leaving a trail of angry ladies, hostile children, and assorted child support checks. Instead, put your emissions to use, good man, by spreading joy to ladies and gents who are really darn committed to being parents. The likelihood that your sperm would go to a scary Octomom-type is relatively slim. Oh, the power you hold in your hands.
I rest my eggs.
Posted by Rachel at 4:44 PM