Sperm Donors Quotes

America used to live by the motto "Father Knows Best." Now we're lucky if "Father Knows He Has Children." We've become a nation of sperm donors and baby daddies.

I swore I'd never become some lord's brainless arm ornament and political host, but I've become far worse. I'm a glorified housekeeper and sperm donor. -from the journal of Payton Marcus Townsend.

That’s not a father. That’s a sperm donor. Forget him. He’s a mess. Concentrate on me. I’m terrific. -(Linc Blaise)

Never sleep with a lady only once, especially in the case of an older lady. -'Rhett

Rhett: Here’s the problem. I am not the sexual equivalent of an espresso machine.

She shook her head. “I swear, Roberts, the more I learn about your gender, the more I think a sperm donor, a good handyman, and a great vibrator is the better way to go.” He let out a bark of laughter. “In defense of my gender, we’re not all dogs. As a matter of fact, I happen to be friends and work with a lot of good guys.” “Ooh. Anyone you can set me up with?” He gave her a long, dark scowl. She’d take that as a no. “I just breeched the sex-buddy etiquette again, didn’t I?” she asked. “Quite.

Dear Fathers of the Fatherless Children, Your definition of “family structure” is being a father that is selfish, a slacker, “sperm donor,” and a self-centered person because you’re only looking out for yourself.

To have my life accepted as just another ordinary life, to have it viewed as common and regular, was a singular moment.

Until it only gets weirder when Gus walks in the room and says, “The sperm donor returns. How goes it, maestro? How was the journey from bean town?

I’m one of twenty-three orphan prodigies. We were created using genetic engineering technologies that have been suppressed from the mainstream. I’m at least half a century ahead of our times in terms of official science. The embryologists who created me selected the strongest genes from about a thousand sperm donors then used in-vitro fertilization to impregnate my mother and other women.

Talking to the sperm-donor-formerly-known-as-my-husband was just the garlic frosting I needed on this total piece of shit day.

How long has it been since the sperm donor fucked off?” “A couple of months, I guess.” Fifty-seven days. Ten hours. Forty-two minutes.

What are you doing on my bed?” I ask. His eyes, always full of sharp intelligence, take in my sauce-covered dress and the blush still lingering on my cheeks. “What are you doing covered in barbecue?

I impulsively dialed his number, but it didn't register that i'd actually talk to him after all these months. I mean what does one say to an estranged father? Hey sperm donor, how's it going in Ireland? Do they cash more for prostitutes?

Like my father, Donor White could hold in his head the incompatible demands of rationality and irrationality, of facts and love.

Donating sperm was not the same as, say, donating a kidney. Or a retina. It was the passing along of an essence that was inseparable from personhood itself.

The life an infertile person seeks comes to her not by accident and not by fate but by hard-fought choices. How to put together the portfolio of photographs. How to answer at the home study. What clinic or doctor or procedure. Donor egg or donor sperm or donor embryo. Open or closed adoption. What country, what boxes to check or uncheck. What questions to ask, and ask again. When to start and when to stop. What to say when her child says, Tell me my story.

In 1884, the American physician William Pancoast injected sperm from his “best-looking” student into an anesthetized woman—without her knowledge—whose husband had been deemed infertile. Nine months later, she gave birth to a healthy baby. Pancoast eventually told her husband what he had done, but the two men decided to spare the woman the truth. Pancoast’s experiment remained a secret for twenty-five years. After his death in 1909, the donor—a man ironically named Dr. Addison Davis Hard—confessed to the underhanded deed in a letter to Medical World.)

I can’t put a number on what I need babe..The perfect man doesn’t just come out of a catalog. I can’t just request him with a checklist and pay for him at the checkout line. Things don’t just happen like that, at least not in my world. I want a real father for my daughter, not just some sperm donor that has never seen her. I want a man in my life to teach my daughter to ride a bicycle, to be cleaning that shot gun on her first date, to be her crying shoulder when she has a bad breakup. I need that man in my life and no amount of money can bring him to me” Truthfully

Then she turned away before anybody caught her slack-jawed with admiration. He was not the one, that was her DNA talking, looking for a high-class sperm donor. Every woman in the room with a working ovary probably looked at him and thought, This one. Well, biology was not destiny. The amount of damage somebody that beautiful could do to a woman like her was too much to contemplate. She took another drink to cushion the thought, and said, "He's pretty." "No," Liza said. "That's the point. He's not pretty. David is pretty. That guy looks like an adult." "Okay, he's full of testosterone," Min said.

The reproductive revolution has shaken up all the relationships once taken for granted between sex, marriage, conception, childbirth, and parenting. People who could not become parents before can now do so in such bewildering combinations that a child can potentially have five different parents: a sperm donor, an egg donor, a birth mother, and the social father and mother who raise the child. On the other hand, some married couples use new reproductive technologies to avoid having children altogether. Seen in this light, a childless marriage is just as much a challenge to the tradition that children are the central purpose and glue of a wedded relationship as is a gay union.

I’m having a baby.” Cue the pregnant pause––pun intended. On the other side of the pond, my brother’s confused expression says it all. “With who?” “I don’t know.” “Jesus, you don’t know who the father is? How many people are you dating?” “Shut up. I’m not pregnant yet. I’m searching for a man to share parental responsibility.” “What?” “Co-parenting. We legally share a child.” “Like a sperm donor?” He looks unhappy with this turn of events. As much as I love my brother, and I do, he’s a total caveman when it suits him. “I’ll volunteer my sperm,” a deep voice shouts in the background. Alex turns in the direction of the voice. “Not if I stuff your nuts down your throat first, Hayes. That’s my baby sister you’re talking about.” “By a minute,” I feel the need to clarify. “You’re still my baby sister.” 

Megan resumes darting her eyes back and forth between me and my sperm donor. “So,” she says after several seconds pass in silence. “Is someone going to fill me in?” “There’s nothing to fill,” I say, then blush because I’m a bad liar and because Chase has been filling me quite well. Apparently, he’s also turned me into a pervert. Megan narrows her eyes. “Are the two of you…?” “No!” Chase and I say at once. Like that’s not obvious. “I’m helping Pop with his computer,” I say in a rush, eager to make this situation seem anything other than what it is. Though, at this point, I’m not sure what it is. This morning’s activities have had nothing at all to do with our contractual agreement. “Ah. I see.” Megan doesn’t seem convinced, but she turns to her grandfather anyway, and says, “I told you Phil would help you with that, Pop.” “She’s nicer than Phil,” Pop says, nodding in my direction. “She’s prettier than him, too.” He winks as though he knows he’s part of a cover-up. And because I’ve completely fallen for this old man, I wink back.

Ugh! Talking to the sperm-donor-formerly-known-as-my-husband was just the garlic frosting I needed on this total piece of shit day.

We used to be Kings now we are beggars. We used to be leaders, now we are dogs We used to be fathers now we are sperm donors. Now we have nothing. No dignity, no honor and no self respect..

My sperm donor–I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction and call him my dad–left my mom and I when I was only five years old. My mother loved that man unconditionally, only for him to leave like he didn’t invest so many years into a relationship with my mom.

he was crying, but then she realized that he was probably trying to regain his composure so that Andy wouldn’t be even more worried when she saw him. She had seen Gordon cry once, and only once, before. It was at the beginning of her parents’ divorce. He hadn’t let go and sobbed or anything. What he had done was so much worse. Tears had rolled down his cheeks, one long drip after another, like condensation on the side of a glass. He’d kept sniffing, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He had left for work one morning assuming his fourteen-year marriage was solid, then before lunchtime had been served with divorce papers. “I don’t understand,” he had told Andy between sniffles. “I just don’t understand.” Andy couldn’t remember the man who was her real father, and even thinking the words real father felt like a betrayal to Gordon. Sperm donor felt too overtly feminist. Not that Andy wasn’t a feminist, but she didn’t want to be the kind of feminist that men hated. Her birth father—which sounded strange but kind of made sense because adopted kids said birth mother—was an optometrist whom Laura had met at a Sandals resort. Which was weird, because her mother hated to travel anywhere

Using a sperm and/or egg donor ensures that a child will grow up missing a vital biological connection to his or her mother or father in order to serve the commissioning adult's desire for a biological connection.

Making a human always takes the same three ingredients—an egg cell, a sperm cell, and a uterus. But just how the ingredients come together is a fascinating tale. With discoveries in science and medicine, we have insemination and IVF, along with sex, to bring babies into the world. Sometimes the ingredients that created us come from the same people who are raising us. Other times, we don’t share genetics with the people responsible for our care, such as when we are raised by stepparents, adoptive parents, or foster parents. This is also often true when donors and surrogates are involved.

Making a human always takes the same three ingredients—an egg cell, a sperm cell, and a uterus. But just how the ingredients come together is a fascinating tale. Sometimes the ingredients that created us come from the same people who are raising us. Other times, we don’t share genetics with the people responsible for our care, such as when we are raised by stepparents, adoptive parents, or foster parents. This is also often true when donors and surrogates are involved.

Making a human always takes the same three ingredients—an egg cell, a sperm cell, and a uterus. But just how the ingredients come together is a fascinating tale. With discoveries in science and medicine, we have insemination and IVF, along with sex, to bring babies into the world. Sometimes the ingredients that created us come from the same people who are raising us. Other times, we don’t share genetics with the people responsible for our care, such as when we are raised by stepparents, adoptive parents, or foster parents. This is also often true when donors and surrogates are involved

You’re just the sperm donor, Norm,” he says, heading for the door. “That’s all you were ever good for. Fucking sperm.

Being a laborer with one hand is about as useful as being a sperm donor with one nut.

Do you remember the night we met, Abby? And the conversation we had before going to the room? It was about that list you had—the one about what you were looking for in a man?” She glowered at him and nodded, grudgingly. “An important item was manners. You might want to remember that.” “Listen, Cameron—you got me into this mess and—” “I had help,” he said firmly. “Lots of help.” “Just take me home. Please,” she said just as firmly. “In a minute. You need to listen to me now. Pay attention, Abby. If being considerate and accommodating isn’t going to work with you, I can change my approach. Regardless what nasty twist you put on things, I never intended to be a sperm donor. Nor was it my idea that we never see each other again after that night we spent together. I looked for you. I wanted more time with you. I never saw it as a quick roll in the hay. That was your doing when you disappeared on me, refused to contact me, even though you promised you would. “It’s very important that you understand something,” he went on. “I’ll try to work with you as much as you allow me to, but if you try to separate me from my children, I’ll fight. I’ll come after you. I’ll launch a search that will make Columbus look like a novice. So don’t even think about pulling something sneaky. Whether you like it or not, we’re in this together.” “Take me home. Please.” “Did you hear me?” “I heard,” she said. “Now I’d really like to go home.” He turned back toward the road and pulled around the stable to the front of Vanni and Paul’s house, Abby’s current residence. When she went to jump out of the car to flee, he grabbed her wrist and held her back. She turned and looked at him with a little panic in her eyes. “Abby, I can’t make you like me, but I can make you allow me to be a father to my children. I know a hundred ways. Please remember that.” Without

Why in the world are you crying?” “I had a fight with Cam,” she said, tears running down her cheeks, her words caught on a sob. “Cam?” Paul asked, confused. “I was upset. He got all teary when he saw the ultrasound—one of them is for sure a boy. I hated that he got emotional in front of John Stone and I lost my temper.” “Oh, Abby…” “He got emotional?” Paul repeated, more confused. “Cameron?” “Vanni—I called him a sperm donor! I was so mean.” “Oh, Abby!” “Sperm donor?” Paul said, totally lost. “He laid it out for me, very seriously. Angrily. He’s not getting out of my way on this. He’s going to be a problem—as if I don’t have enough problems.” She leaned toward Vanni and wept on her shoulder. “He said he can’t make me like him, but he won’t let me take the babies away from him!” “Like him?” Paul said. “Babies? What the hell’s going on here?” Vanni looked over her shoulder at Paul. “Cameron’s the father—don’t tell anyone.” “Please don’t tell anyone,” Abby stressed tearfully. Paul was quiet for a long moment while Vanni just held Abby, comforting her. Finally he found his voice. “Are you fucking kidding me?” “I didn’t mean to be so hostile,” Abby wept. “Maybe it’s pregnancy.” “Sure it is, honey,” Vanni comforted. “Wait a minute,” Paul attempted. “Wait a minute here.” “Long story, Paul,” Vanni said. “Just don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain later, okay?” “But I thought they just met!” Paul said. “Obviously they didn’t just meet. Don’t be a dimwit. I’ll tell you about it later, after Abby gets calmed down.” Paul turned away from them and went to pick little Matt up from the floor where he played. “Must be a long story,” he muttered. “Very, very long. Say, about five months long?” “Abby,

Is that so?” Cameron said. “Well, guess what? I feel real bad about what she said, too.” Then he looked back into his drink and sulked. “Come on,” Jack said. “What the hell could she have said?” Cameron looked up from his drink. “She called me an unkind name.” Jack laughed at him. “Well, you’re a big boy. What could a little pregnant girl call you that would get you so riled up?” “Never mind. It’s over.” “How about—sperm donor,” Paul supplied. Cameron shot Paul an angry look. “Way to go, dipshit. Anybody ever tell you you have a big mouth?” “When Vanni said not to tell, I didn’t think she meant you. I mean, you know. Right?” Cameron glanced at Jack. “Don’t worry about Jack,” Paul said. “He doesn’t talk. Well, he does, but when he has specific orders not to, he can manage to keep his mouth shut.” Then Jack, caution drawing every word, said, “Now, why in the world would she say something like that to you?” “I can’t imagine,” Cameron said, pouting. “Well, if it makes you feel any better about things, Vanessa called me a dimwit for asking just about the same question.

Well, what are you going to do about it?” “Do about it?” “Well,” he said, looking over each shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, then leaning close to whisper. Jack, of course, leaned down to not miss a word. “She’s pregnant. You’re the father. Anything come to mind there, bud? Like maybe marriage?” Cameron put down his drink impatiently. “Pay attention, Paul. I couldn’t even get her to go to Fortuna to eat at a restaurant with me. She hates me. I was a perfect gentleman, back then and tonight, but she hates me. She called me a sperm donor.” “Whew,” Paul said. “Whew,” said Jack. All three men lifted their glasses in misery. *

Tate saw him first and bolted toward him, Iron Man backpack falling from his fingers to the concourse floor, gap-toothed grin wide. Harper leaned down and caught his son as he slammed into him, lifting him into his arms. Then Tate’s strong little arms were unyielding in their strength as they wrapped around his neck. Harper absorbed the unbridled joy and returned it tenfold. “You’ve grown so much,” he whispered, amazed at what a man his child was turning into. Both kids were beautiful. Tate looked a little wild after sleeping on the plane. Dark hair stood on end and his fair skin was flushed, but his burnished golden eyes, the same as his mother, shone with happiness. Dillon had the dark hair but had inherited his own gray eyes. And right now they were as cold and unyielding as he knew his own could be. The girl stood cradled in her mother’s arms. There were tears in her wounded eyes but she refused to let them fall. Still carrying Tate Harper walked forward, one hand held out. But Dillon turned her face into Cat’s chest. He tried not to be hurt at the rebuff, but he was. And she had every right to treat him that way. Time after time he had let her down. Hell, if he boiled everything down he’d basically been a sperm donor. Other people had been there to welcome her into the world, cheer her on for all her milestones. As he thought about everything he had missed nausea turned his stomach.

Cameron, when you asked me to move in with you, I thought it was all about the babies. That it had nothing to do with me.” “Ohhh, it had everything to do with you.” “The past couple of weeks…” she said. “I don’t know when I’ve been happier.” “Really? If I could just elevate myself above sperm donor—” “Why? They don’t get any better. Talk about packing a punch,” she laughed. “That night, I remember thinking, if I had a little more time, if my life weren’t so screwed up, I could fall in love with this guy.” His breathing got a little heavier. “I have nothing but time,” he said, and his voice had grown raspy. “Then we don’t really have a problem here, do we?” she said with a smile. “We could—” She was cut off by his hands on her face, his lips on her lips, kissing her with a passion she hadn’t even dared hope for in so long.

I didn’t ask myself if it was possible. I couldn’t seem to help it. When you didn’t get in touch after we met in Grants Pass, when I couldn’t find you, I was miserable. I told you back then, I liked our chances. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone in my life I felt so much for, so quickly.” “I can’t say it was that way for me, Cameron,” she said. “I know. I guess I hoped that over time…” “But I liked you,” she said. “You were very sweet to me.” “That didn’t take any effort at all,” he said, giving her hair a soft stroke. “You were like heaven. I couldn’t believe I was that lucky.” “I thought about you afterward. All the time.” “You did?” he asked, surprised. “But I was scared to death to find myself hooked up to another guy I thought was everything I wanted, only to find out I was just delusional. To let myself believe in you, count on you and have you run out on me?” She shook her head. “I wasn’t up to that. I thought it would be a lot safer if I never saw you again.” “I understand, Abby. It doesn’t matter what place I have in your life—I’ll never run out on you. I’ll support you and the kids, I’ll be a good father, I’ll—” “You were even kind and supportive after I called you a sperm donor….” He chuckled. “You were in high temper that night. Remind me not to get into fights with you.” “Cameron,

Sperm cells turned out to be surprisingly canny in that they seemed to be capable of identifying and reacting to the presence of their own donor, ignoring the presence of other males. Such observations seem to imply that some sort of total memory may go down to the single cell, and by inference that the brain may be just a switching mechanism, not necessarily a memory storage organ.

Can’t we just have a good time and not focus on Edward? He’s in the middle of a huge project at the firm. It’s a lot and he’s doing the best he can.” I bet even she doesn’t believe that, but I won’t argue the point and spoil her birthday any more than her inconsiderate sperm donor already has.

Holding back a shudder, Sophia said, “I’ll figure out another way to protect us.” She didn’t want a sperm donor. “Without passing on the curse to another generation. Please, drop this whole set up idea.

Before leaving Austin I heard a radio report on an Englishman who’s giving out awards for stupid security measures. First prize goes to an airport scanner who forced a female passenger to drink from three bottles of her own breast milk. She’d pumped it before boarding, and they wanted to make sure it wasn’t poison. This explains why sperm donors are traveling Greyhound.

Sperm Donor. My mom had used that term. We can just call him Ed, the sperm donor. It wasn’t the first time I had heard of my biological father being referred to this way. It wouldn’t be the last. It was said like it was a joke.

Remember that spring break when we took the family plane to that mansion in Antigua? Your face, Rachel. You loved it. You loved the parties. You loved the power. It’s part of why we became close. So yes, my plan was to impregnate you. Why would you want some anonymous donor sperm when you can have mine?” “Someone special in the eyes of God,” she added. “Exactly. Great genes. Someone who cares about you. It made perfect sense.

So, what did you get up to, Firefly?” Caden asks with a grin. “Oh, you know,” Bridget says, popping a grape into her mouth. “The usual. Hiding from crazy sperm donors, trying to figure out clues to the sister, pissing Nik off enough that he has a temper tantrum.

She wanted a sperm donor, and I delivered. But it feels like I left a piece of my soul up on the second floor.

In the morning, I jumped out of bed with a burst of excitement, the song “Child of Mine” playing in my head. Happy birthday to me! I’d been wanting a baby for the past several years, and finding a donor I felt so comfortable with seemed like the best birthday present ever. Heading to the computer, I smiled at my good fortune—I was really going to do this. I typed in the sperm bank’s URL, found the donor’s profile, and read it all over again. I was just as certain as I’d been the night before that he was The One—the one that would make sense to my child when he or she asked why, of all the possible donors, I chose this guy. I placed the donor in my online shopping cart—just as I might with a book on Amazon—double-checked the order, then clicked Purchase Vials. I’m having a baby! I thought. The moment felt monumental. As the order processed, I planned what I had to do next: Make an appointment for the insemination, buy prenatal vitamins, put together a baby registry, get the baby’s room set up. Between thoughts, I noticed that my order was taking a while to complete. The rotating circle on my screen, known as the “spinning wheel of death,” seemed to be spinning for an unusually long time. I waited, waited some more, and finally tried using the back button in case my computer was crashing. But nothing happened. Finally, the spinning wheel of death disappeared and a message popped up: Out of stock. Out of stock? I figured there must be some computer glitch—maybe when I pressed the back button?—so I speed-dialed the sperm bank and asked for Kathleen, but she was out and I got transferred to a customer-service rep named Barb. Barb looked into the matter and determined that this was no glitch. I’d selected a very popular donor, she said. She went on to explain that popular donors went quickly and that, while the company tried to “restock” their “inventory” often, there was a six-month hold for it so it could get quarantined and tested. Even when the inventory was made available, she said, there still might be a long wait, because some people had placed it on back order. As Barb spoke, I thought of how Kathleen had called just yesterday. Now it occurred to me that maybe she’d suggested this donor to several women. Like me, maybe many women had bonded with Kathleen over her honest appraisals of semen.

Can't a guy have a little fun when testing out the worthiness of his girl's sperm donor?

A few things are about to change in this dynamic. Healing from the loss of your relationship is first up on the list. After that, I’m coming for my family. You and Santana are mine. Santana’s sperm donor doesn’t want anything to do with him. That’s perfect ’cause I got him for life. We’ll figure out how to get this man out of y’all’s lives for good, and when he is, it’s up!” Cole kissed my temple and sauntered off.