Writing an article about you masturbating is probably the only way to get through an experience like this. Greg Pollock’s article in Salon on providing a sperm sample for fertility treatment is seriously charming. (All my love to couples going through infertility. Having seen it up close with people I love I understand that it’s an incredibly difficult road and my god, you deserve all the good things).
I had spoken to the receptionist a few times over the phone. She was really, really nice. I imagine you develop soothing phone mannerisms when your job is scheduling people to confront a bio-existential crisis. This made me feel bad, because she was a very sweet young woman whose first experience of the day was talking to a JO guy about the rules for jacking off in her JO room.
She asked if I’d read the instructions, which I had, and which had prevented a JO the day before (I needed to be two to five days abstinent). I also needed to have clean hands. I had showered right before the appointment; my hands felt clean. But they had also touched a bunch of crap in my crappy Saturn full of ancient coffee cups and they were about to get at my dick. I didn’t want to burden her with further information about how gross I am, so I said yes, I had followed the instructions.