When does chatting with a stranger on a plane cross the line into oversharing? When you hear the words “I was her sperm donor.”
Oh yeah…that happened.
I was flying home to New York City yesterday and began talking with a guy seated at the window in my row. He had commented on my very last-minute boarding — we’re talking, seconds to spare — and the conversation just naturally flowed from there.
We talked work and family and I eventually asked how many children he had. That’s when he dropped the s-bomb.
“Well, I have a boy in college, a daughter in high school, a step-son in junior high and a son who passed away very young, ” he replied.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Oh, and then’s there’s my daughter who lives in Walton, Kentucky,” he said.
“How did she end up there?” I asked. He had already mentioned that his family lived in Ohio. “Did she go to school at UK?”
And that’s where the saga began — in great detail — of his role as sperm donor in this one-year’s old life. He told me about the mother, how they met, why she asked for his sperm, how his second wife felt about it (past and present), the legal paperwork they had to file, and the type of relationship they agreed he would have with the child.
Wow. Wouldn’t it have been a whole lot easier to tell a stranger on a plane that you had a one-year old daughter…and leave it at that?
Goodness knows I didn’t ask to be placed in such an uncomfortable position.
Well…I did once. I bought a ticket to see “The Back-Up Plan” with Jennifer Lopez.
The movie version wasn’t very good either.
