The son you never wanted to have

Picture this: Twenty years from now, your door bell rings at 8.30 in the evening. Annoyed, you elect to open the door to what turns out to be a complete stranger. It's a young male. Stammering, the young man states his business. The words that reach you ears almost make you reel backwards in amazement and shock: "Hi, my name is John. I believe you're my father. I have wanted to know who you are for years, but my mothers would not let me know - until now."

How could this be possible? Let us move back to our present time to explain this imaginary case of unrealized father-son relationship:

Some time early spring 2009, somewhere in Norway:

A lesbian friend at work tells you that she and her marriage partner would very much like to have a baby. Her big problem is that semen donors are anonymous, and this means that by claiming her right of assisted artificial insemination at the local hospital, she may risk, if becoming pregnant, giving birth to a child that has not got she exceptional qualities that you appear to have.

Consequently, she asks you for a great favour: she is willing to pay you a sizeable amount of money if you will deposit a small quantity of your semen at a specified private clinic, where she wants the insemination to be carried out. Your initial reaction is that of gratification at being asked by such a lovely lady to be a donor, a father of sorts - to a child! Your moral qualms are easily brushed aside by the assurance of your colleague that your contribution in this matter will help her and her partner in marriage achieve their highest dream.

And what about any future responsibility? None whatsoever. The law guarantees that if you do not want to be involved in the life of this child later in life, your identity will remain undisclosed. The child will never know who you are. All provisions have been made by the authorities. Your semen is desired, but not your name or financial assistance, or - for that matter - your paternal care.

It is an option you cannot refuse. You get paid for your precious body fluid, she will have her baby, and you do not risk getting a disturbing phone call in your old age by a distraught person trying to get into touch with you because a DNA test has proven beyond doubt that there is a biological connection between the two of you.

Same place, late autumn, the year is 2029:

Stunned, you realise that the promise your former colleague gave you has been broken. The young man nervously hands you a letter, containing a statement by his biological mother, in which your name is revealed. Shock eventually gives way to rage as it dawns on you that your privacy is being invaded by this living entity, this clean-shaven intruder.

His eyes hungrily await your invitation to cross the threshold into your home. It is all written on his face. "Will you accept me as your son?". Your reply comes in the form of a thundering crash as you slam the door shut.

What nerve! What impertinence! It is, after all, still your right to stay uncommitted. Yes, it was your semen, but this boy is not your problem. He will not get your money, your will not send him any texts congratulating him on his future exam results, and he will certainly not be there as you draw your final breath.

It is your right, after all, to keep him out of your life. Never mind his needs. It is all just a matter of your rights.