Which reminds me to say something about Van. That’s the Michigander who ended up at the top of my list of Guys Whose Sperm I’m Into and whose itty bitty vials I bought to the tune of “not an apple laptop but nearly as pricey.” I’ve been saying how odd this seems, considering how much sperm goes to “waste,” but it seems irrelevant considering all the information and lack of potential legal conflict I get in exchange.

The journey began with a sperm bank. I chose the one with the most obvious name. And based on meeting people from both of the local banks this past weekend, I’m sure I chose the right one. That would be the one without the flashy sperm pens and glossy fliers. I like the low-key look, emphasis on resources. And the website with lots of profile info before you cough up yet another gob of $20s to get deeper information on these guys. So that was an intuitive pick, and so far in my life, those are always the best kind.

Then I read the profiles. I wasn’t totally convinced one way or another whether the guy needed to be Donor Release or not until I started reading. Donor Release means “I’m available to be contacted by my multiple spawn once they’re big enough to vote.” And I decided this is indeed critical once I read a couple of profiles. Release guys said “It’s a person’s right to know his/her biological roots” and “if they’re as curious as me, they’ll want to know” … meanwhile, non-Release guys said “my girlfriend won’t let me” and “I have no idea what I’ll be doing in 18 years”, which sounded reasonable but more selfish and maybe I don’t want that guy’s sperm.

Ok, so Donor Release only. That cuts out about 50% of the listed candidates. And then you go through the database and look at them… family medical history is the next thing. All 5 senses in working order? Not allergic to air? No hint of Mommy dearest or close relatives locked in the dungeon? Emphasize “close” relatives with that one, because the family histories are looking-through-your-diary comprehensive, including stuff about distant uncles and cousins – things you’d never ask a potential lover/spouse/domestic partner during those initial Qualification Discussions – so it doesn’t really seem fair to worry about them too much.

Health covered, that leaves less than a dozen to think seriously about. And I had to ask, would I sleep with this person? Or even sit through an entire conversation? Because there’s a qualitative part too. Yes, the essay section. And an interviewer’s thoughts too (more creepy coverage on that later). Much to read and keep in order, which is why I started naming them, because it hardly seems fair to keep referring to someone as #9946 once I’m intimate with his second cousin’s health history and his most intimate experiences with algebra.

I got it down to four. Then I ordered their Even More Comprehensive Forms. Just to see what else might be there. Handwriting, more parental history, disturbing conjecture about why he writes that way (is he careless? is he too anal?) and substance abuse history in detail. My guy? He doesn’t drink or smoke ever. Which could make him rather boring to cavort with at a drag show, but is optimal for a guy whose zygote making machinery I’m after. So Van it is. His little guys wait in their tiny vials in the bank’s deep freeze until I figure out when I ovulate. Looks like it’s gonna be Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, folks, and banks don’t open on holidays. Yes, as Obama steps into his first week of presidency, I may be in a remote living room fumbling with a nitrus tank the size of Rhode Island and thawing sperm in my bra.