A month ago today, I took off the chastity device I was wearing. I haven’t put one back on since. I haven’t felt like it and Belle hasn’t asked me to.
It’s been incredibly hard for some time now between Belle and I. We went weeks and weeks without seeing one another. If she wasn’t gone, I was. And when we do happen to be home at the same time, there have been distractions. And she’s been consumed by her work.
We haven’t had sex since April. I haven’t initiated and neither has she.
Someone asked me if during this difficult time I didn’t find “comfort” in the chastity. No. I didn’t. Because even though I’m the only one who wears it, it’s a team sport. At least the way we do it. And it just became too hard. Too sad. Like sitting by yourself on a seesaw. So I told Belle I wanted to go on a break. From chastity and denial. Just like I’m a normal guy.
Being out and doing whatever I want with the penis has left me feeling…different. Unmoored. Like the center has gone. The bottom has fallen out of a part of my identity. It’s kinda like no longer wearing your wedding ring anymore. But the lack of its presence has become the center for something else. It’s bundled up a bunch of anxiety about how we’re not taking care of ourselves or each other or our relationship. We’re just…drifting. And not talking. And not doing anything about anything.
And it’s not going to get any better any time soon. I’m going to be in the woods for the next week. When I get back, she’s leaving for a week. Just like it’s been all year. Lather, rinse, repeat.