It’s springtime, y’all! And you know what that means: time for baby animals, floral print rompers, and ancient fertility rites performed with strangers in the park. To help make my womb extra fruitful, I packed up my crystals and headed to East River Park, where a selection of good natured tourists and giggling bohemians helped me out in my noble quest to get knocked up. Sure, I might be on the pill right now, but I’m hoping I can save up the getting preggers mojo for later, if and when I need it.

A fertility rite is nothing without props, so my friend Dana brought me a few “power totems,” i.e. dildos with feathers attached. We made a vagina symbol out of small rocks, and set up some candles around it. I wrote up what I hoped sounded convincingly like an ancient fertility spell, which I would read off my ancient fertility iPhone. I was ready!

My first helper was a nice young man by the name of “Mark.” (Most names have been changed to protect the agreeable.) “Hi, would you like to help me do a ritual?” I asked. “Um, ok,” he said, seeming a bit confused. “Come with me,” I said, beckoning him to my altar.

I asked him to hold the power totem and repeat after me:

Oh Gaia, mother of earth and all creation,
Bless this womb so that I might grow fat with child.
Fill my lover’s testes with tiny tadpoles and baby gravy,
And let the blood flow from my yoni like the tides,
So that we might bring forth unto this world a new existence.

(I occasionally omitted the word “baby gravy” and added more “fruitfuls” and “wombs”, but this is basically what I had people say.)

Mark did a stellar job, and even offered us some of his special Rice Krispies treats afterwards. Dana ate about half the pan. “How did that make you feel?” I asked.

“I feel indifferent,” he replied.

“Even on this beautiful day with a pan full of delicious THC treats?”

“That’s what’s making me feel indifferent.” Fair enough!

Our next helper was a nice girl chosen for her apparent non-hipster-ness. (I felt the spell needed a variety of different kinds of helpers in order to work best.) Unfortunately, she didn’t want her picture taken, but she spoke those words like a champ. Afterwards when I asked her how she’d felt about the whole thing, she took a moment to think, then said “connected.”

To my womb?

“In some way, yes.”

Next, I enlisted a tall, slender fellow who asked if we were witches.

“We’re non-denominational,” I replied mysteriously.

“I’m so stoked to be a part of this,” he said. “Maybe it’ll help me out…I just had surgery on my spine. I have a little vagina in my neck now.” You know we had to take a look at that. It was gross.

“Shall we begin?” I asked. He nodded. “Please point the power totem at my reproductive organs.”

“I’m not sure I want to be photographed holding a big black cock,” he demurred.

“We have a white one,” offered Dana. He then changed his mind and said that the black one was fine.

He repeated after me with gusto and verve, especially the “Oh Gaia!” part.

“That was fun,” he said.

“Thank you for helping get me pregnant.”

“Ever get anyone pregs for real?” asked Dana.

“No comment.”

Feeling emboldened by my success thus far, I asked an amorous-looking couple to help me out. As it turned out, they were tourists from Hong Kong and this was their first day in New York. Oh boy!

The language barrier made it difficult at first to explain what I was up to, but once they got it they were quite excited. “God bless you,” the woman said afterwards. They also took a picture with me (and the totems) with their own camera for their vacation scrapbook. Hopefully they’ll take a little piece of me back to Hong Kong with them.

I was feeling pretty fertile by this point, but I figured one more time around couldn’t hurt. Unfortunately for me, a lot of the people I asked were uncooperative this time. “Not today, but no offense,” said one. “Maybe in a few minutes,” said others, who then proceeded to never come over and help. “Why do you want to get pregnant?” asked a Eurotrashy-looking guy. Rude.

Luckily, these two excellent young men saw my plight and volunteered themselves. “Rejection hurts, huh?” said one. Indeed.

The guy on the right seemed especially interested, as he’d just been reading about the subject. “I’ve got a magazine with a really good article on fertility,” he offered. I said I’d have to read it.

I decided one of them should point his totem at the stone vagina, the other at my womb. They did a good job at this, and also at repeating after me.

One of them seemed to be smirking a little; hopefully Gaia didn’t mind.

When I asked them how it had made them feel, the one on the right said, “Really good. It’s spring, so it’s really relevant right now.” That’s right, park bros. I am going to have the most relevant alt-pregnancy of all time.

Thanks to everyone who helped me out, and blessed be!