“You need to submit a sample.” Those were the words from my wife that sparked instant panic somewhere deep within me. The first thing I did was get defensive. How dare someone question the potency — the very essence — of my manhood! To even suggest that something could be wrong with my little swimmers, I mean…it was just lunacy. I already have a kid dammit. My sperm are proven leaders. A verifiable commodity. The semen by which all other semen should be measured. I suddenly pictured carrying Will — my strapping evidence of reproduction — into that doctor’s office and holding him up like Simba from the Lion King, shouting “Behold what I have brought forth from my loins!!” [...]
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