Dear Prudence,
I need serious help because my son, Terry, has taken his stupidity to new and terrifying levels. Terry is a gym-obsessed, protein-chugging, testosterone-fueled jock who barely reads anything that isn’t the label on a tub of creatine. He lifts weights for hours, talks about his “gains” like they’re his life’s work, and believes any problem can be solved with either more reps or more chicken breast.
One of his gym buddies made an offhand joke about how “chicks dig athletes” and how it’s a shame that lesbians don’t get to experience top-tier genetics like his. Most people would roll their eyes and move on. Terry, in all his meat-headed glory, took it as a “mission.” His solution? He decided to donate sperm exclusively to lesbian couples. And not in a normal, through-the-clinic kind of way. No, that would be too simple. He started personally offering his services. He actually approached lesbian couples he knew and “pitched” himself like he was some elite genetic lottery prize. Apparently, he thought he was being helpful. And somehow, it never occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, this was wildly inappropriate. He genuinely seemed to believe he was performing a public service, like holding a door open.
Well, reality finally hit him in the face when his cousin Claire called him out (Terry had offered to donate to her wife). She told him, in no uncertain terms, that lesbians weren’t looking for random gym bros to “gift” them sperm. She told him it was offensive, invasive, and, above all, completely ridiculous. Terry just stood there, nodding slowly, like he was finally understanding a really hard math problem. Then he said, “Wait… so you don’t actually want my help?” I swear, I nearly lost my mind.
He’s crushed now. He keeps asking if he should apologize and talking about how he “just wanted to do something good.” I told him the best thing he can do for the lesbian community is leave them alone. But knowing him, I have a feeling he’ll just redirect all this misplaced energy into some other equally idiotic project. How do I knock some sense into him before he finds a “new” way to embarrass himself (and me)?
—Terry’s Mortified Mom