Marc was the kind of guy that nobody noticed. His quiet demeanor and average looks made him almost invisible in most social situations. Marc’s life goals were not meant for public consumption; he was discrete. He didn’t mean to hide anything from anyone, but he rarely mentioned his intentions or personal details about his life. People didn’t ask and Marc didn’t tell.

His life was absolutely boring, just the way he liked it. He’d wake up early, read the news on his phone, turn on his computer and work remotely. Marc had very little contact with humans, his work being all about numbers and moving money around for clients he’d never met. As long as he completed his quota for the day, nobody bothered him.

Marc pretty much ate the same food at the same time everyday. He had no desire to try new restaurants, drink at bars, meet friends for a walk, or watch sports on television. Marc’s aspirations were simple: keep breathing and stay out of trouble. There was one thing he truly wished for:

Marc dreamed that he’d one day own a Ford Mustang. He had seen one when he was at an automobile show with his father when he was ten years old and it had been the only material thing he had ever wanted. Sadly, his job didn’t pay him well enough to afford a Mustang. He began passing time by thinking up ways to acquire enough money to buy one. He figured $30,000 might get him a fairly nice 1965 model.

Marc had been able to save about $20,000 over the last ten years, still short, he was feeling anxious about whether or not he’d ever get there. One spring day, on the bus on his way to the barber, an ad caught his eye — a nearby fertility clinic was looking for sperm donors. He had once read that this sort of thing paid fairly well, so he decided to check it out.

The following Monday he made an appointment and began pondering what they’d think about his candidacy. He already knew he’d probably never marry and therefore, never father a child. Donating sperm would be a very practical way to increase his savings.

A few days later he met with a clinician, he fulfilled all that was required, and was told he could donate twice per week for $850 per month. By his calculations, he could purchase the Mustang in one year. Marc didn’t get excited very much, but he found himself smiling on the ride back to his apartment.

The year passed fairly quickly; thoughts of that Mustang still very much on Marc’s mind. He had been scouring the internet for the right vehicle for months and had finally found one 45 minutes away on the city bus route; Detroit was known for excellent public transportation. Marc made an appointment to see the car and it did not disappoint. He was able to purchase the red 1965 Mustang for $28,000, leaving him enough money to have it detailed.

Marc parked his Mustang in his driveway, where it was safe and where he could admire it from his living room window. He thought about building a carport. The old man he purchased the car from, told him about an antique car show that would take place in Detroit in three weeks. At first Marc dismissed the idea of going; however, after some thought, he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to attend.

The Detroit Coliseum was huge and filled with many beautiful antique cars. Marc spoke to a few of the owners and he showed them photos of his new acquisition. People seemed to know his car, further, they encouraged him to show it off. Marc decided that he liked the other car owners, they were friendly and he thought that they all had a lot in common. He found himself diving head first into the culture. He found himself traveling with June (the name he’d given to his car, named for the month in which he purchased it), to various cities in the midwest. June was very popular at automotive shows; featured in many attendees photographs. Marc found himself making friends easily and enjoying his new life.

When he purchased June he thought he’d give up sperm donations, but staying in hotels and dining out could be costly. He continued to donate several times per month. Marc had not given any thought to what happened with his sperm until one day long after he quit making donations.

After twenty years of enjoying his beautiful automobile and making his way around the antique car show circuit, Marc experienced something that rocked his world to its core. Marc was walking around the Toronto Coliseum floor admiring the other antique cars on display and he recognized a young man standing by a beautiful aqua blue 1952 Chrysler Windsor. Marc was surveying the automobile when its owner, Stephen, walked up to him. Marc said hello, but he couldn’t recall how he knew the young man. He was frustrated and flustered as he listened to Stephen describe the overwhelming amount of attention the car had been receiving at the show.

Marc tried to be engaging, however, he was stuck on Stephen’s familiar mannerisms. He decided to ask a few questions in order to determine how he knew Stephen. Unfortunately, none of what Stephen told him resonated with Marc and he walked away baffled.

Some time passed and Marc forgot about the encounter. Fast forward a few months and Marc was shopping at a Kroger in downtown Detroit. Stephen, whom he had met in Toronto, saw him and approached him. They exchanged pleasantries and decided to have a coffee next door. Marc realized their car connection was strong and he wanted to know more about Stephen’s involvement.

The conversation at the coffee shop was fairly ordinary by any measure. Marc would occasionally go back to the feeling that he knew Stephen. At one point he point blank asked him. Stephen didn’t want Marc to feel badly, but he suspected his response may have been considered obtuse.

“You’re not that old to already have memory problems.”

Marc just laughed it off, knowing he must have met Stephen a while back and has just forgotten where and how. They said their goodbyes and agreed to meet for breakfast the next day. Marc didn’t sleep well. Something was bugging him, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

The next day, they met at the dining room in their hotel. It was a buffet breakfast and Marc kept bumping into Stephen at the breakfast bar. When they sat down at the table, Marc looked at Stephen’s plate and it looked like a mirror image of his own. They realized it at about the same time, chuckled, and shrugged.

At about halfway through breakfast, Marc asked Stephen about his parents.

“What does your father think about your expensive hobby?”

“I don’t know what my father thinks, I never met him.”

“That’s a shame, he might have enjoyed antique cars as well. Did he die before you were born?”

“No,” said Stephen, “I was conceived in a lab, my father was a sperm donor.”

Marc suddenly became very disoriented. He had to excuse himself from the table for a breather. Was he Stephen’s father? Is that why he thought he knew him so well? What are the odds? Should he say something? He never imagined this could ever happen; he was overwhelmed and confused.

This Story From Here

I’m somewhat invested in this little piece of fiction. I’ve thought a lot about these sperm donors who may have fathered many, many children. I’m going to expand on the story sometime soon. As I’ve said before, writing has been an organic process for me; I suspect I’ll be motivated to finish the story sometime soon.

AI Feedback I will consider in the future:

– The narrative has a unique and engaging premise; consider refining character development to enhance emotional connection with readers.

– Ensure consistent pacing; some sections might benefit from tighter editing to maintain reader interest.

– The transitions between Marc’s story and the personal reflection sections could be smoother for better flow.

– Consider adding more sensory details to descriptions to create a richer atmosphere.

From the www:

A sperm donor could potentially fertilize a large number of eggs, with guidelines suggesting a limit of 25 births per donor in a population of 800,000 to minimize the risk of consanguinity. 

Here’s a more detailed explanation:

• No Universal Limit: There isn’t a uniform limit across the US on the number of donations a single donor can make, but the American Society for Reproductive Medicine (ASRM) recommends restricting conceptions by individual donors to 25 births per population of 800,000. 
• ASRM Guidelines: The ASRM guidelines state that clinics and sperm banks should keep sufficient records to allow a limit to be set for the number of pregnancies for which a donor is responsible. 
• Minimizing Consanguinity: The ASRM’s recommendation aims to minimize the risk of inadvertent consanguineous conception (where children are genetically related). 

Current state of Affairs

I’ve been very introspective lately; more so than usual. I think it’s mostly related to politics and feeling helpless. I know I’m not alone in this. I remain hopeful that a bleak outlook will somehow change into something more positive. A good friend reminded me that history shows us that we go through cycles; therefore, no matter what this is or where it takes us, this too shall pass. I’m hoping the collateral damage is not irreparable.

Two things happened this week, both initiating reflection: first, someone close to me accused me of flaunting my lifestyle online. The next thing surprised me: someone I know well and think very highly of, asked me why I haven’t written a story in a while. I’ve thought a great deal about both of these occurrences. I don’t want to disappoint any of you, but I am going to choose to keep my thoughts on these topics private. I will say one thing and leave it at that: I am at a point in my life where what people say matters, because I think it should; however, what I think and feel about my own life matters more. I will do as I please and work toward goals I set for myself. I’m happy to know that there are people who would like me to continue writing.

“Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. He who cannot look into himself cannot look into the world.” – Carl Jung