Ellie

Hello there,

You don't really know me Ellie but I know quite a bit about you. I've known your 'mother' ET for quite a long time, and we even had you and your sisters pointed out to us by a specialist last week.

I hope you don't mind me saying, but you really are a pretty egg.

I know this is a really old fashioned way of doing things, but sometimes the old traditions are best, you know?

I'm aware that you have lots of guys hanging around, bugging you and trying to get into your good books, and I know that up until now, you've resisted their advances.

You're an egg with high standards in morality and taste, always something to be admired.

You see Ellie, I have a buddy, and he's taken quite a shine to you. He really is different to all those that you've met before for many reasons.

He's been admiring your for a long time, over a year in fact. You don't know this, but every month when you take your trip down south to the beach house in the 'tubes, he travels from a place that is beyond even the realms of your imagination just to try and meet you there. He truly goes to tremendous effort.

He's made twelve attempts now to rendezvous with you, but each time he just misses out. I don't intentionally want to make you feel bad, but this is getting him down just a little bit.

Not that he's given up, absolutely not, quite the opposite in fact Ellie.

When he started making his trips to meet you, he wasn't the best swimmer in the world. Frankly, he sucked. The measure of his character is that he just didn't give up, he got to work, he trained and conditioned himself, and now he's one the best swimmers you could ever hope to meet (and not too shabby in a pair of speedos, not that that should influence you in any way, of course).

Basically Ellie, this wee guy may not be the most handsome nor the brightest you'll ever meet, but he's hardworking and is busting his milky backside to get a chance to meet you.

I guess what I'm saying is we know you are taking another trip south in a couple of days, and he has really given his all to be ready to get there to meet you in time. Not only does he want to meet you, but he'd like the chance maybe to take you for a bite to eat, or for a drink of something, non-alcoholic naturally.
He really wants to impress you, between you and me Ellie, I think he believes you are the one for him. He's quite the romantic that way, he is convinced it's fate that you both should meet and settle down somewhere nice, just the two of you.

I know you enjoy your lifestyle at the moment, the freedom to come and go, hanging out with your sisters up north, and heading down south to party every month or so, but doesn't even the smallest part of you wish for someone special to keep you company?

So, my dear girl, when you reach the 'tubes, keep an eye out for him, he won't be the one shouting the loudest or getting drunk or making rude jokes, but he'll be the one that's worked the hardest to get there.

You could do a lot worse. Just give it some thought, eh?

Kind regards,
Me.

P.S. How could I forget? His name, is Spencer.
You should be able to recognise him because he's the one with the wallpaper paste complexion, the glint in his eye, and the big heart.

...oh yes, and braces.

Zinc or Swim?

Maybe it was ET's imposing 5 foot nothing frame giving them grief at 8am, or my booming prepubescent voice at lunchtime that filled them with fear and sparked the frenzy of action, but something finally went our way today.

At 5:20pm this afternoon, outside office hours, Ms trainee doctor rang to inform me that the missing semen analysis results had been magically located. I didn't ask where, when, how, or who, I just shrieked at her to give up some figures.

Sperm count, volume, and morphology were all slightly down on the last time, but no great concern.

The first time around the issue was motility, and it royally sucked. 22% in group A & 10% in group B was gonna be the cause of significant problems.
It is also widely accepted that if your boys don't swim today, you can't make them swim tomorrow.

So what did I do?

I fed Spencer, I fed him daily, until his wee gills were full of vitamins C and E, beta carotene and my secret ingredient to tackle his lethargy, zinc.

I took him aside and had a man to man talk. I revved the little bugger up, got inside his head, started his wee milky heart pumping and told the fucker to swim like his legendary grandaddy sperm had done before him.

And that, my good folk, is what the little maggot went and did.

He swam like a Chineese olympian after gobbling up one of his coach's special milkshakes.
He swam so hard and fast that I reckon that's why the results were delayed, he had them chasing that wee container around the laboratory fridge.
He swam with such gusto there were petri dish tsunami warnings issued.

The little legend swam his way to 39% in group A and 30% in group B, a total of 69% motility, more than 100% improvement, and almost 40% above the norm.
Spencer is one magnificent mass of man milk.

Monday I will see the results in detail, and get a chance to do some real comparisons, but the bottom line on this fine Friday evening is, thanks to the most heroic semen sample outside of a panda enclosure, there is no reason why we can't do this naturally.

Spencer my man, hang up your swim cap and rest well tonight, for tomorrow, together, we ride.

So, God IS a woman...

...and she's had me tied to the bed, wrists and ankles bound. She doesn't even crack a smile as she tosses aside the unopened tube of lubricant, and tightens the belt on her over sized strap-on. She steps closer...

I woke up today a bigger idiot than normal. Why so? because I believed today was the day I would get the results from my second semen analysis.

I was mistaken.

Here in the world's best kept communist secret that is Holland, you must follow appointments, no wavering, no flexibility. I guess in a country the size of a Texan bathtub with a bigger population than Australia, you need some kind of order to avoid outright chaos. So I go along with it.

At exactly 1pm, I called for my results. I dialed the GP's office number. 17 times.

At 1:40 the phone is answered.

After the customary berating from the receptionist that I wasn't ringing between 1 & 1:30, I get put through to the doctor.
Scratch that, I get put through to a trainee something or other.

I again explain the reason behind my call, repeat my details, and wait silently, with the sound of single finger keystrokes on an iMac the only sign of life on the other end of the line.

'Uuum, I can't seem to find them right now, can I call you back this afternoon?'
Sighing 'OK'.

An hour later she calls me back with the news that I instinctively knew was coming.

They'd lost the results.

The GP doesn't have them, the lab doesn't have them.
They are going to check up with the lab again and ring me today or tomorrow.

I'm not even gong to entertain the possibility they may find them, unless Shergar trots into their office with them sellotaped to his arse.

So, what now?

It takes around 4 weeks to get an appointment to give the sample, and 2 weeks to get results back. For the slower among you, thats 6 weeks, add in 3 Dutch national holidays in the coming weeks and you can safely say 7 weeks before I can get another set of results.

We return to our reproductive specialist, who is expecting a full set of results, in just over 5 weeks.

If we don't have a full set of results for that appointment we can forget any progress then, and can face another 6 week wait for a follow up, if we get lucky.

This particular 'whoopsie' may well cost us a set back of a couple of months.

If I were a cynical person, I would allow my mind to wonder had they in fact misplaced the original sample? What a lovely thought, here I am, unable to impregnate my wife, and there's Spencer just lying around unlabeled in a laboratory where they wash sperm for IUI and IVF treatments. Some poor skinny, blond, 9 foot tall, straight toothed Dutch couple could be in for one hell of a shock in 9 months or so.

If you hadn't already guessed from the tones of bubbling frustration, you can take the dream sequence of being anally raped by female deity as a sure sign that a total meltdown is just around the corner.

...jerking me by the legs closer to the edge of the bed, I clench, bite down on my pillow, and mutter "OK God, get it over with, just no kissing on the mouth"...