Do Women need Men - Readers Respond III

Stephanie and Bridget are Partners. These are not their real names, so if you know a Stephanie and Bridget, it’s not them. (But, it could be.) They are legally married and live as “Life-Partners” or simply partners. Depending on whom they are meeting they might introduce each other as “my wife.” Their marriage certificate makes no mention of man and wife, or bride and groom, instead it states “Party A” and “Party B”. The certificate is standard and is used for both heterosexual and gay couples.

In the marriage ceremony, where the pastor or official usually states, “ by the powers vested in me I pronounce you man and wife”, he stated, “I pronounce that you are now legally married ”, or that you are now legal spouses.

In another life they had both been married to men, and in Stephanie’s case she and her former husband have a daughter. Both of these women tried to conform to what society expected of them, but even as they made their vows they knew that what they were doing was wrong for them. They had known several women lovers, and they only found satisfaction with another woman. Love making with a man was a mechanical thing, and they learned to fake it, but in their hearts they knew that they could never be entirely happy in their role as wife to a man.

These were the days when one had to be incredibly brave to openly parade the fact that one was gay or lesbian. Now, with their new-found freedom they find themselves, like most other couples dreaming of raising a family. They are both of child-bearing age.

Help Wanted: One designer man to meet their criteria for the perfect father. The ideal
candidate would provide sperm to both ladies, and would appear on the birth certificates
of their children as their biological father. However, he must agree in advance to assign his parental rights and obligations to the ladies. They would consider, however, conferring upon him the role of Godfather.

The idea of a fully-grown man, taking himself off to be alone with a copy of a girly magazine is, I believe, one of the most misunderstood notions held by women. Ladies, we did that sort of thing when we were emerging sexually, but once we turned sixteen we would have to be absolutely desperate to do that. I can’t think of anything more lonesome, except perhaps doing a transaction with a prostitute.

I asked about the method of impregnation. They said that they expected that when they were ovulating I would take myself into a separate room and return with a cupful of little critters. Oh yuk!

At this point I didn’t even know that I had applied for the job.

Why not simply engage in sexual intercourse to deliver sperm to egg? After all, this is the natural method, and if, heaven forbid, they found some enjoyment from it, they would not go straight to lesbian purgatory or be drummed out of the corps. What they found wrong with that is the other partner is left entirely out of the process. That would have been the same as having a child with their previous spouses. That was not the idea. By delivering my sperm into a plastic cup, the other partner gets to introduce it via a turkey baster to the critical site where the little critters begin their swim upstream, and thereby that partner is involved. (Sort of.)

I said, considering what the objective was, the process involving the male donor leaves a lot to be desired. The entire procedure could be made into much more of a loving thing without leaving anyone out. I suggested that when it was fertile time for them that the three of us could gather for an early evening sherry, followed by dinner, and then we could retire to the bedroom. Candles would be lit, and incense be set to burn. We would play a CD of chanting by a monk’s choir. The bed would have been specially prepared and we would all disrobe. They would anoint my body with sweet smelling oils which would excite me towards climax, at which time I would kneel and a golden chalice would be held steady as they assisted me to a productive end. At the precise and right moment we would all hug, and the monks chant would rise in intensity, then all sound and movement would fall off to a calm hmmmmmm!

The ladies listened to this and enthusiastically agreed that this could work. They would have no objection and it would make for a much more memorable occasion.

So, I asked when do we start?

They replied, "when do we start? Umm! Oh! Err!"

Too bad after all that I didn’t fit their criteria of the ideal father. My fantasy sounded like fun.




Copyright © 2006 – 2007 Eugene Carmichael