Celibacy

My first submission. Obviously, I need an editor. No sex, no sperm, and no penis cages.

***

I can't believe I'm doing this. No, that's not true. I can't believe my life has taken this turn, forcing me to do this. No, not true either. I'm doing this because I am desperate to keep my wife, and losing my male ego and pride is the price to keep her. Yes, the truth either makes us all believers or turns us into the metaphorical ostriches. My head may be stuck up something, but it's not a hole in the sand.

I scan the document one final time before printing. I know if I keep rereading, I'll keep changing the words, changing the sentence structure. All delays because I really don't want to print this out and sign it.

I go back to surfing the web one last time to see if I've missed anything. Damn, this is humiliating. I'm using incognito mode, flush the browsing history and even the cookies, but I still feel the heat of shame creep up my neck as my face turns the deep purple-red. Nobody will ever know about this, but just surfing these celibacy sites crushes my spirit.

Most of it is way over the top, but I needed to make sure I understood enough about the lifestyle to offer my solution. The lifestyle, ugh! Who in their right mind would agree to a celibate lifestyle if chanting and beer making weren't a regular part of it? Yep, once you remove the spiritual drivers for celibacy, there doesn't seem to be any point to me. I guess it all boils down to self sacrifice and suffering. It seems that once you remove the spiritual aspect, it's just a power game between couples. That realization helps a little bit, but a game should be fun for all players. To me, this is not a game and in no way will it be fun. Spiritual, then.

I had a very hard time trying to find out the rules and guidelines that would work for me. No way in hell was I going to get fitted for a penis cage! There'd be no little silver key on a chain around her neck. I'm doing this for her, for us, but I'm not her property. I am making a statement. I'm telling her that I don't want a divorce, and will fight to keep her no matter what.

With that last thought spurring me on, I print the damn thing and sign the bottom. I immediately feel a bit of panic.

Look, I'm not a complete wimp, at least not yet. If I thought for once she didn't love me as much as I loved her, I'd let her leave. But I can tell she's lying to me when she says she doesn't love me "that way" anymore, and that a divorce is the only way forward. I know she is doing this to try and save my dignity and pride.

She always told our friends that sex is what keeps me happy at home. She's right, of course. I've had the best 20 years any man could want. But now that she's taken it off the table, she thinks that will drive me to accept this silly divorce plan. I'm pretty sure I recognize her boss's influence in that thought process.

She got promoted two years ago and with her new role came a new boss. He is a few years younger than us, and quite a handsome fellow at that. He is very active, very athletic, and very socially adept. He isn't married, and had a different girl every social event. Don't get me wrong, he's not a cad, just very socially adept, as I said. There was never any indication of him behaving inappropriately. In fact, my wife has actually grown quite a bit professionally and even personally as a result of his influence. In the two years I've known him, he's become quite a good friend. But what kind of friend would try to separate me from my wife?

I walked into the living room and handed her the paper.

"What's this?" she asked.

"My answer to your divorce suggestion."

"Oh." She whispered, tears forming in her eyes. Those eyes! It's been twenty years and I get lost in them everytime. The twenty years have changed her in so many ways, but not her eyes.

In her case, her eyes are the windows to her emotions. They are honey brown when she was happy or content, with a slight greenish hue when she's feeling frisky. Today, they are dark brown, telling me she was anxious, stressed or nervous. I haven't seen the honey brown in weeks. If this doesn't work, I may never see them again. I had to get this right, and started my speech as eloquently as I could muster.

"This, my dear, is an Oath of Celibacy. I am giving up sex so we can stay married. Our wedding vows were for better or worse, sickness and health and all. I will not let you divorce me because sex is now off the table for us. Yes, I know that your libido is gone. Yes, I know that menopause has made it impossible to enjoy sex for you. I know that you feel like shit every time I grab your ass or cop a feel. You think it is because I'm horny and want it. True, but what I don't want is a wife who is afraid of my boner just because she can't satisfy it!! I love our intimacy and I don't want to louse you are worried about my boner! I VOW THAT FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, MY BONER IS MINE ALONE TO SATISFY!!" So much for eloquence!

Bingo! I could see her eyes changing to the honey brown I love so much. It would not be easy, but the look on her face right now is worth a thousand cold showers. Looks like I'd be buying her boss an expensive bottle as thanks. He knew I'd figure out the solution if he brought the problem to a head!

"Well, maybe we could, um, let you cheat your vow once in a while..." as her eyes held the greenest tint I've seen since our honeymoon.