Baby Mama and I are trying to pick a donor. Somehow I thought this would involve a lot of choice – huge numbers of profiles and audio clips to go through, baby pictures to order, etc. In reality, we have only a few donors on our list, since we are restricting to ID consent and also trying to find someone with my ethnic background. (In the WTF category – how come no one is eastern European up in here? I’m kind of from Chicago, so this just seems unthinkable to me . . . )
So we found this guy who is, in fact, partly of my ethnic background and even seems to have my interests – studying art, introverted. But his audio clip is intensely boring. It sounds like a high school essay on ‘Doing the Right Thing.’ Every time I hear it I’m like, really, that was your best answer?
Behind door number 2, we have Mr. Not-My-Ethnic-Background-Silly-Interests. There isn’t as much to recommend Mr. NMEBSI, except that his audio clip makes him sounds like a sweet guy. What he talks about in his 30 seconds isn’t very profound, but it’s funny, and it sounds honest. I would rather go with him.
I have no idea if this is a good way to choose a donor. In fact, it’s probably not. There’s less chance that a child from Mr. NMEBSI will look like me and less chance that this child will want to major in the humanities (although, wait, maybe that’s a plus . . .). The only logical thing I’ve thought of so far is that since we are looking for ID consent, there is less likelyhood that Mr. NMEBSI will be a tool when, 18 years from now, our child might be cold-calling him.
I just don’t want to stick the sperm of some doofus who has learned how to give the right answers to pass the test (Morals and ethics my butt, you’re like what, 20 years old?) into Baby Mama. Yuck. That’s what we avoided by being lesbians right? We had coming-out anxiety and bizarre interactions with old friends, but not the sorrow of sleeping with some surface-y guy who later turns out to be arrogant and a little dumb.
The whole choice of donor thing feels so random. I wish it didn’t have to happen at all. It seems both important and impossible. (I mentioned to Baby Mama my wish that we could just have Sperm Tuesday every month or so, when sperm would fall from the sky, but she said that would be gross . . . .) So Mr. NMEBSI here we come, I think.