Love Thyself

Guys, does this photo turn you on? Does it make you feel amorous? Does it make you feel randy? At a glance, does it make you wanna flex your wonder muscle? If so, then boy do I have the medical lab test you have been looking for!

This is the high-tech facility where people in Orange County are expected to produce samples of the sticky male variety. This is the semen collection room at Quest Diagnostics in the Orange Medical Complex at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Orange. As you can see it also doubles as the lab’s public restroom. They really know how to set a mood don’t they?

When I went in for my semen analysis I wasn’t sure what to expect. However, I did not expect to find myself waiting outside the door to a restroom with a collection cup in hand, wondering when the geriatric patient ahead of me would be finished using the toilet. Gag.

Could this get any worse? Find out after the jump…

The room was small and dirty and it smelled grotesque. There were holes in the wall and floor and the florescent lighting highlighted the jumbo-sized bottle of antibacterial soap sitting on the counter. On the other side of the wall there were two lab employees having an argument in Spanish and just outside the door a small child — being tormented by a phlebotomist — was wailing. Oh yeah. Sexy.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a prude and sex does not embarrass me, nor does it bother me to discuss it publicly (as is evidenced by the post). But for the love of Cheetara, a broom closet would have been more appealing! Maybe I should have done my own analysis at home.

You know what else? Women would not stand for this. Under no circumstances would a woman ever put up with this fiasco. There is no way a human being of the female persuasion would be able to reach a climax, alone, under the flickering lights, on the toilet no less, in this room. Nosiree. The whole experience is uniquely male and as such, has been given no thought whatsoever.

The final humiliation was walking into the crowded waiting room and handing my sample to the giggling phlebotomist. It wasn’t the sample that bothered me, after all what’s a little jizz between strangers? It was the giggling. If you work in a lab that collects urine, blood, snot, fecal matter and a wide assortment of live cultures how can you have the nerve to giggle at my lousy semen sample?

As it turns out she was giggling because my fly was open. Some days, you just can’t catch a break.

1 Comment so far

  1. dgm (unregistered) on February 25th, 2007 @ 4:58 pm

    You should have brought your own candles and soft music. Better luck next time!

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