Post-Nut Clarity,
or,
I Paid $500 to Jerk Off into This Cup and All I Got Was a Crushing Sense of Despair

​​risa’s driving me to saskatoon and it’s snowing on the eleven. i made my appointment the day i got my prescription in the summer but mid-november was the soonest they could get me in to pay them five hundred dollars and jerk off into a cup and then pay them five hundred more dollars to store it in a freezer. sorry yeah we are chock full of people crankin one out. yep. booked right up. lineup’s out the door.

 

i haven’t cum in well over a week because i know you’re not supposed to for a certain amount of time beforehand. i read the sheet the nurse handed me. make sure you’ve cum at least seven days ago but not less than three days ago. i’ve missed the cum window. fucking fuck. i’m going to pay five hundred dollars to jerk off into this cup and have a sample that isn’t viable. fuck. 

 

i’m taking off my jacket and putting it on the chair. fuck. okay. i’m trying not to spiral. i’m looking for arousal in this bare room with a single chair and a sink but no toilet. this room painted brown-gray. the most sexless room i have ever entered. what else am i supposed to do but jerk off into this cup. i’m unbuttoning my pants. i’m trying to admire the sensuality in the curvature of the stainless steel doorknob. i’m touching my dick and trying to get hard. someone outside this door is waiting for me to finish jerking off. everyone else in the clinic who saw me walk by with my pisssample container into the room which is definitely not a bathroom because there's a sink but no toilet knows i’m not filling this cup with piss and that i’m jerking off into it and filling it with cum. everyone is waiting for me to cum. i’m trying to get hard while not thinking about how i was supposed to jerk off seven days ago but not less than three and that my sperm sample is going to be busted and i’ll have to wait another six months before starting estrogen so that i can jerk off in the correct jerkoff window and have a viable sample of cum to store in a freezer in case i ever want biological children of my own, a thought that has barely ever crossed my mind until now. i’m trying to get hard without thinking about how hard i’m trying to try to get hard. i’m trying to get hard without thinking how this is exactly like trying to get hard in the bathroom of bobby’s place in moose jaw before going home with jane because i know she’s expecting that we’ll have sex and i need to prepare myself so that we can have sex and so that she doesn’t yell at me for not being able to have sex even though we already had sex earlier that day, that we fuck all the time, that i’m just tired or it’s the coke or the booze or the coke and the booze. i’m trying to get hard without thinking about jane yelling you’re not a man you’re not a fucking man i fuck men twice your age with more stamina than you jesus fucking christ you can’t get it up good god this is pathetic you’re fucking pathetic fucking hell you should leave get the fuck out just go. i’m trying to get hard while trying not to think about how it never crossed my mind that i’m allowed to just not want to have sex. i’m trying to get hard without thinking that jane was right about me not being a man. i’m touching my dick and looking at the stainless steel doorknob, this sensual silver sphere separating me from the rest of the people in the clinic waiting in line for me to cum so they can jerk off into their own pisssample cups that are not for piss in this room that’s definitely not a bathroom because there’s a sink but no toilet. chock full, booked right up. lineup’s out the door.

 

i’m almost hard and i’m trying not to think about when professor smythe pulled me aside when she walked in to class one day and told me that jane’s mom died but from the look on her face i was positive she was coming to tell me that jane died, which is something i’ve been expecting for five years now, that jane died in the same way keith did, which i only found out about from a crass text from jane years after it happened because i stopped hanging out with jane one because we broke up and two because she started shooting morphine literally the day after we broke up and i would start too if i was around that and three because deep down i knew our friendship was toxic. i’m trying not to think about the relief i felt when professor smythe told me it was jane’s mom, mary, and the guilt i felt from feeling relief because i knew mary; she lived only a few blocks away from jane’s place in moose jaw and i’d spent time with jane’s family at their cabin in the crowsnest pass. mary was a christian and a leader in her church and maybe even a pastor though i never understood the denomination but it seemed culty and that’s coming from someone who was raised catholic and went to a catholic school where i was tricked into attending antiabortion rallies and had presentations in the gym from hip young pastors who played in christian hardcore bands and broke us off into small groups and talked about jerking off and how we all want to jerk off and they jerk off sometimes too and they got us each to say how we all jerk off but we shouldn’t jerk off because god does not want us to jerk off. jane had told me things she’d seen in their church as a kid. jane told me she’d seen people speak in tongues and mary said yes this happened. mary had told me she’d seen people rise from the dead yes this happened. that demons are real. yes. yes evil and death are everywhere this is true. but so is god’s love and divine grace and it is his divine grace alone that can save you, that can save us. yes. and i knew mary was telling the truth. the funeral is on the weekend and would i like to go to the funeral in moose jaw with professors smythe and collins? we all went together and at belle plaine we drove past the worst highway accident i had ever seen. a semi sideways in the ditch.[1] an indecipherable number of mangled vehicles because i didn’t know how many pieces each vehicle was in and which pieces belonged to which vehicle or whose blood was on the highway but you knew for certain that everyone was dead. in moose jaw we went to the fancy olive oil store and the used book store and i bought under the volcano because collins said it was good but i still haven’t read it. mary’s photo at the front of the room in the funeral parlor looked out at the congregation, presiding over the ceremony because while she hadn’t orchestrated this someone had, her death and us all coming together and that even in death she was still up at the front letting us know that someone was pulling the strings, was conducting the movements of each individual piece and we were all just conduits for this intention. and then i looked at jane crying silently and knew this was false and that mary was just dead and people don’t rise from the dead and they don’t speak in tongues and demons aren’t real nor is the grace of god because there is no mystery in this world. there is only certainty and only one certainty at that which is death.

 

i’m hard now rock fucking hard and i’m going to cum. i’m going to cum in this pisssample cup. i do. i remember the paper the nurse gave me about needing to have came seven days ago but not less than three so the cum is fresh but also so there’s enough of it and so i make myself cum again while i’m still hard so there’s some fresh cum for the freezer and not just this tired and dead week-old load and frankly there wasn’t a lot the first go-round so i figured i could use all the help i can get. i put the cumcup in the metal recessed tray in the wall with the sliding window for a nurse to open it and grab my cumcup that’s still warm after i’ve walked out to the reception desk past everyone else in the clinic who knows i just jerked off into the cup that’s definitely not a pisscup for pisssamples in the room that’s definitely not a bathroom because there’s a sink but no toilet. i pay five hundred dollars for jerking off into the cup and another five hundred dollars to put it in the freezer for a year before i’ll have to pay another five hundred dollars the next year and year after that and every year i want to keep the possibility of mothering my own biological children alive, a thought i’d never really had because i never thought of myself worthy of love enough to have someone want to have children with me and because i never thought of myself worthy of motherhood in general, that i’d just mess up my own children worse than i am, like a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy whose original markings become more degraded and aberrations more pronounced with each subsequent iteration. and my page already marred beyond reading. 

 

i walk out of the clinic with them none the wiser to the fact that i scammed them into a two-for-one discount by cumming twice in the cup that’s not for pisssamples. risa is driving me home to regina and it’s snowing still and i tell her what happened and we’re both laughing and she has to pull over because we’re laughing both because it’s funny and because what else can you do in the face of crushing hopelessness, of despair, of the fact that i have waited months for this appointment and delayed beginning my medical transition, delayed beginning saving my own life in order to preserve the slimmest possibility that i may mother another life into existence, a sliver of light into a world i thought i would never see was certain i would never know and i missed the cum window and have now narrowed this possibility to an infinitesimally minuscule number because i am not making another appointment at the cum clinic and waiting even more months for if i don’t start my prescription for estrogen and subsequent slide into infertility tomorrow morning i will die i will literally die and the aforementioned infinitesimally minuscule possibility will finally reach zero, will finally rest after its slow descent from lofty probability into certain finality like water vapor crystalizing in the atmosphere thousands of feet up, growing as each crystal clings to another and another and another and falls in flakes from the sky to rest on highway eleven and be crushed under tire after tire after tire and melt into nothing.