Love Will Be The Death Of Us

Notes On The End Of My Marriage Author's note: This is a sincere attempt to learn the end of a relationship, a final love letter, of sorts. Some of the names have been changed and my former partner has consented its publication. 8.2011 -- The Beginning There is no easy way to masturbate into a small plastic container. I find this out as I approach climax, simultaneously holding the container in place while stoking my erection with the other hand. Truth be told, I don't actually masturbate very often -- perhaps something about the act I continue to find shameful. Suddenly: a rush of white light and a moment of fleeting ecstasy. I return to Room B at the Genesis fertility clinic in downtown Vancouver. Two voluptuous women continue their own vigorous pleasure on the TV screen mounted above my head. I steady my breath and screw the cap onto the container. I buckle my jeans, grab the remote and flick off the screen. I catch my image in the mirror, triggering an existential moment that feels utterly cliche -- all the cautionary tales of my younger years flooding back in a montage of bad teen movies, Sex Ed classes, and awkward chats with my father. "Millions of sperm live in every drop of semen!" he warned. "Sometimes they can live for over nine days!" And the ominous warning fed to every heterosexual male: don't get your girlfriend pregnant. Now I'm 30. Four years ago, newly married and financially stable, my wife Katherine and I discontinued birth control and waited for the...
Source: Healthy Living - The Huffington Post - Category: Consumer Health News Source Type: news