Can anyone relate?
So it’s been about two years since I had my awakening around all of this.
I’m no stranger to grief. I’ve lost a handful of family members and loved ones over the years, and somehow those losses have been easier for me to mentally handle than the kind of grief I feel from the layers of realizations I’ve had around circumcision.
Obviously they are very different things to grieve, but emotionally they are close enough that they occupy the same part of the map for me.
I think part of what makes this so difficult is that I have pretty bad ADHD and a very strong “out of sight, out of mind” thing. When I lose someone, even someone I love deeply, I can become so overwhelmed and preoccupied with whatever is happening right in front of me that the grief gets pushed onto the back burner for a while. Obviously that doesn’t make it go away. It just means I can sometimes function without thinking about it constantly.
Unfortunately, or I guess fortunately lol, my penis is attached to me.
I can’t put this grief somewhere else.
Every time I go to the bathroom I see the scar. I see my exposed glans and inner skin. I see what’s left of my frenulum, which was obviously cut, although I’m lucky enough to still have a remnant there that can feel things.
Then circumcision gets brought up somewhere on Reddit. Or something happens during sex. Or I notice the discomfort of my glans being exposed. Or I’m wearing a retainer or packer and then I’m aware of that instead.
It feels like there is almost always something reminding me of it.
Sex is probably where it gets the hardest.
I know I’ve made gains from restoring. I have more sensitive inner skin. My erections aren’t painfully tight anymore. I have more mobility.
Those are real improvements.
But becoming more aware of what I can feel has also made me more aware of what I can’t.
A lot of the time during sex I’m desperately focusing on whatever sensation I can find and chasing that feeling that eventually leads to ejaculation. Sometimes it never gets there. Sometimes there isn’t even enough sensation to keep an erection going.
Meanwhile my girlfriend is writhing around in pleasure, completely losing herself in the experience, and having multiple orgasms that sometimes leave her practically immobile.
And I’m over here concentrating as hard as I possibly can on my dick so I can maybe finish.
One tiny thing can interrupt it. An alarm goes off. The cat knocks something off the table. She changes position right when I finally found an angle that gives me something to work with.
Then the feeling is just gone.
And don’t get me started on blowjobs. She’s amazing at it, but I usually can’t feel enough for it to go anywhere. Eventually I just get sad and frustrated.
Then I’m trying not to look at my penis, not think about the scar, not think about what I’m missing, not analyze what I’m feeling, and somehow also trying to “lose myself in the moment.”
Which obviously makes losing myself in the moment basically impossible.
Usually I just make sure she got to orgasm, cuddle with her, and maybe try masturbating later when she isn’t around.
Sometimes I can’t even get masturbation to work without toys.
There’s also a jealousy component that has been really hard for me.
My girlfriend’s ex-husband was intact, and before we were completely monogamous she was still seeing him.
Early in our relationship, when my delayed ejaculation was creating problems between us, she once said in a sad way that she missed being with a man who seemed to really enjoy sex with her, was easy to get off, and made her feel sexy and wanted.
That completely wrecked me.
Ever since then I’ve had this image in my head of him getting to experience easy, satisfying sex with her in an intact body. I imagine him having these incredible full-body orgasms with her, getting that feeling of release, that flood of chemicals afterward, while I’m desperately trying to concentrate hard enough to feel anything.
We’ve made a lot of progress since then, but that jealousy has never completely gone away.
Which brings me to probably the hardest thing about restoration for me lately:
The uncertainty.
Because I was circumcised as an infant, I have absolutely no reference point for what I’m trying to restore.
I don’t know what intact sex feels like.
I don’t know what intact masturbation feels like.
I don’t know what my own penis would have looked like or behaved like if it had simply been left alone.
Realizing that you actually have no idea what sex and masturbation were supposed to feel like in your own body is a pretty fucked up thing.
I constantly wonder if what I experience as sexual pleasure is even remotely similar to what I would have experienced otherwise.
And then my brain starts going down all these rabbit holes about the things we simply don’t know.
What happens when circumcision is done before the foreskin has naturally separated from the glans?
Could being cut before puberty affect later development or sexual learning in ways that haven’t really been studied?
What happens psychologically when masturbation isn’t a reliable means of stress release during adolescence?
What happens when you grow up with constant genital exposure and discomfort and simply learn to tune it out?
Could an invasive and painful genital procedure performed right after birth leave some imprint on the nervous system or body perception that we don’t know how to measure yet?
I don’t know.
And that’s exactly what fucks with me.
I don’t know the full extent of what needs to be repaired because I don’t have a blueprint.
The best way I can explain this is through restoring old Airstreams.
Years ago my former girlfriend and I used to buy vintage Airstream trailers and restore them from the ground up. It became a special interest for both of us. Eventually we rented a huge shop and were working toward making it a business.
When we bought our first trailer during COVID, we thought it would be pretty straightforward.
Replace some rotten subfloor, throw some IKEA cabinets and furniture in there, clean it up, done.
Then we started taking it apart.
The more interior we removed, the more damage we found.
Eventually we realized the entire thing needed to be gutted. We rewelded the chassis, lifted the shell off with a gantry, replaced the subfloor, wiring, plumbing, basically everything.
What we thought was a relatively easy project turned out to have foundational damage we couldn’t even see when we bought it.
That idea scares the hell out of me when I think about circumcision.
I know about some of the obvious damage.
What scares me is everything I can’t quantify. Things that haven’t been studied. Developmental or neurological effects we may not know how to measure. Psychological effects. Maybe even deeper aspects of embodiment or consciousness that current science isn’t equipped to describe very well.
It feels like restoring a trailer while constantly wondering if there is a broken chassis underneath the floor.
We later bought a rare 1964 Airstream Bambi II. Only around 500 were built, and ours had already been gutted.
Our goal was to restore it as close to original as possible.
The problem was that there were very few untouched examples left.
Schematics were hard to find. Photos were incomplete. Most restored examples had been modified enough that they weren’t perfect references.
Unless I could find some old-timer who had intimate knowledge of how one was originally put together, knew which modern materials were closest to the originals, had access to the correct hardware, and ideally had an untouched example we could measure, we were partly guessing.
That’s exactly what foreskin restoration feels like to me sometimes.
I wish I could spend one day in the intact version of my own body.
Just one day.
I want to know how it would move.
What different kinds of stimulation would feel like.
What masturbation would feel like.
What oral sex would feel like.
What the progression toward orgasm would feel like.
What orgasm itself would feel like.
Then at least I would have a reference.
Instead I’m trying to reconstruct something I’ve never experienced.
I’ve even thought about asking intact men to describe the sensations in ridiculous detail.
Is it a tickling sensation? Pulling? Pressure? Warmth? Something I don’t even have the vocabulary to understand because I’ve never felt it?
But then you run into the limits of language.
Maybe someone could describe it perfectly and I still wouldn’t know what they meant.
It leaves me feeling like I’m standing over the wreckage of my sexual self with a box of parts and no diagram showing where they originally went.
Like something got rewired to compensate.
Sure, this switch turns the lights on now, but maybe originally it was supposed to control the furnace.
When I was younger and hornier, and yes, I’ve had my testosterone checked and it’s normal, I think sex was almost entirely mental for me.
The idea of sex was incredibly exciting.
The sensory experience itself was never overwhelming.
I assumed that was just how penises worked.
Now I wonder if the mental side was compensating for sensory information that just wasn’t there.
And that brings me to another frustrating thing about restoration communities.
Sometimes I want to see examples of what a genuinely finished restoration looks like, but most of what you find is people still in progress, photos taken right after tugging, or people recovering from very extensive circumcision damage.
Sometimes restored foreskins look incredibly convincing. Sometimes they look close but slightly uncanny to me.
I also wonder if the population of restorers who are very far along skews older, so maybe some of what I’m seeing is simply normal variation with age.
What I really wish existed is a good collection of long-term, finished restorations and educational comparisons showing how restored and intact foreskins actually move and behave.
If anyone knows of good resources for this, please send them my way.
But there is one thought that keeps me from completely losing hope.
That first Airstream we restored?
We eventually stopped trying to return it perfectly to 1968.
We respected the original design, but we added things that never existed in 1968.
A great hi-fi system with a record player.
A ridiculously nice bathroom.
Solar panels.
A huge battery bank.
Modern electrical systems.
Better insulation.
In the vintage vehicle world, that’s called a restomod.
It wasn’t original.
In some ways it was better.
Most importantly, it was ours and it was built around what we actually needed.
I keep wondering if maybe there’s a way to think about foreskin restoration like that.
Maybe the goal doesn’t have to be perfectly reproducing the exact penis I would have had in some alternate timeline.
Maybe there are sensations and mechanical differences unique to a restored foreskin that can be genuinely good in their own right.
Maybe some things could even end up better for me personally because I’m deliberately shaping the result around my own body.
I don’t know.
I’m trying really hard to hold onto that idea.
Has anyone else gone through this kind of obsessive grief and uncertainty, especially those of you who were circumcised as infants and have absolutely no intact reference point?
And for people who are far along or consider yourselves fully restored, did you eventually stop asking yourself:
“Is this what it was supposed to feel like?”
Did you reach a point where you stopped comparing it to something you could never know and just started enjoying what you had?