Day 18 of No Nut November

I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t think I had it in me. Self-restraint? Discipline? Not usually in my toolkit. But when the lads said, “There’s no way you’ll last, you’re obsessed with your girlfriend’s tits,” — well. That sounded like a challenge.

And I’m a competitive bastard.

So I’ve been winning. Feeling smug. Smiling to myself every time I wake up with morning wood like, “Haha, not today, dickhead.”

But lately? My girl’s been… testy. Mood swinging like a pendulum. Snapping at little things. Didn’t like how I made tea? Full death stare. Forgot to put the laundry in? She nearly put me in the washer.

I thought, Eh, hormones? Full moon? I dunno, girl stuff.

But then Johnny—being the nosy prick he is—we’re at the pub, pints in hand, talking absolute nonsense, and he goes:

“Oi, but you’re still… y’know. Making it up to her, yeah?”

I squint. “What do you mean?”

He laughs, properly confused. “You’re suffering, sure, but you’re not making her suffer too, right? Like… you’re still handling business for her?”

I stare.

“What, like…sex?”

“No, ya fuckin’ muppet. I mean, you’re still helping her out. Y’know—fingers, mouth, whatever else you’ve got access to.”

My brain short-circuited. I’d been treating this like a bloody monastery challenge, fully celibate, no touchy-touchy for either of us.

“Wait,” I say, “that’s allowed?”

Johnny’s laughing so hard his drink almost spills. “You’re telling me you’ve just left her in the lurch? No wonder she’s feral, mate. She’s probably one minor inconvenience away from setting your house on fire.”

I don’t even finish my pint. I shoot up off the bench. “I need to go. Immediately.”

Johnny’s still wheezing. “Tell her I’m rooting for her!”

I’m sprinting home like I’m about to save a life. Which, arguably, I am. Hers and mine. Because if I have to deal with one more slammed cupboard door, I might not survive the month.

I get through the door, out of breath, and she’s there on the couch, remote in hand, face already annoyed.

“Why are you running—?”

I grab her hand, pull her up, and kiss her neck straight away. “Because I’m an idiot and I’ve neglected my girlfriend, and that’s being rectified right now.”

She stares, confused but suspiciously pleased. “Took you long enough. I was about to shag the next delivery man.”

“Fair,” I mutter. “I deserve that.”

I drag her to the bedroom like a man on a mission, silently thanking Johnny and also planning to buy him a pint later.

Screw No Nut November. I’m inventing Her Nut November.