I open my eyes. It’s 7:45 am. I groan. I still haven’t received the phone call from the hospital telling me when a bed will be ready, but I know that I have to go in to start round two of chemo. Screw it, I’m going back to sleep.

8:31, my phone rings. Hospital says to get there between 10:30 and 11. I tell them, more like just before noon.

I call my sister, who is taking me to the hospital. We discuss logistics, then she asks “What about your donation? Don’t you have to go to the sperm bank?”

Shit.

We figure it out. My mom had called, and they were willing to waive needing an appointment to go, since I had to start chemo that day. So, the plan was to get our stuff together, head to the bank first, give my deposit, then head to the hospital.

Ok, the awkward levels are spiking, but it’s only going to get worse. Much, much worse.

Thankfully, Lauren had been to the bank before, because seriously, this thing looks sketch from the outside. It’s in the middle of a residential street in Manhattan, with just a small stainless steel sign that says “Repro Labs”. You walk up, walk underneath a stairway that’s way too small for a 6′ tall guy, and enter the office.

The office is a shock. It’s very oddly out of place. It’s super professional, air conditioned, quiet, and small. There’s an attractive woman behind the desk, and a young woman sitting next to the desk. Whelp, now or never.

I walk up to the desk, and awkwardly explain that I’m here to make a deposit. I drop the “because I’m starting chemo” line like 10 times, because I’m nervous, and its awkward. She tells me to sit down. I sneak a glance at the young girl, feeling even more awkward.

10-15 minutes later, she calls my name. Apparently, since my sister dropped off a deposit a few weeks ago, they just kind of assumed I knew what I was doing. I did not. So, after an initial stumble (she just handed me a small package of a deposit cup thing and a piece of paper (I thought) and pointed me at the stairs), she brought me to the “deposit room” and left me to my business.

I walked into the room. There’s a leather chair, a leg rest, a paper roll on the floor in the corner, with the paper pulled over the leather chair. There’s a TV, a dvd player, magazines. I look in my hand.

I was just handed a porn DVD by a middle aged lady, fully aware of what I was there to do.

Seriously? That’s where I’m at right now.

Doubly awkward? In the DVD player is already some “entertainment”. I don’t even want to know.

Let’s just say, I got in, got out, and just tried not to touch any of the surfaces. I still feel the urge to shower. Gross. Gah.

Then, you place your deposit on a counter, hit a call bell like it was a hotel, and then pay.

Except now everyone present knows exactly what you just did. God, this is happening entirely too frequently for me lately.

Finally, I get back to the car, and my sister looks at me, and says “I know what you did. Sinner.”

Who’s your favorite Little Rascal? Al Falfa….or spaaaaaanky.

She got me. Damn.