- Share This Post
- Pin It
- 9
- 11
-
Sparkle (3)
I recently found myself discussing female orgasm with two guy friends. More specifically, my orgasms. Even more specifically, my lack thereof. It was a deeply personal and very detailed conversation, and it ended with one of them saying, "you really need to write this." And my saying, as I often have, "I just don't know how to."
Partly because my story is very unusual. And partly because it is incredibly common. Mostly because what I have to say is something that could change the way men and women alike relate to orgasm and sex, and that is a lot of responsibility. I want to do it right.
The irony is not lost on me.
I pretty much don't have orgasms. I am not alone in that. I have felt guilt, fear and shame around that fact, and I am not alone in that. I have faked it, and I am not alone in that.
Orgasms were always hard to come by for me. But after really learning my body, I could get there, both on my own and with lovers. However, after a car accident and resulting brain injury, they all but disappeared. And I was, frankly, glad to see them go. As good as they felt for the short time they were happening, the drama and pressure around getting there never seemed worth it to me. I never understood what the big deal was. They're awesome, but they're a tiny part of a much larger picture.
If I just needed a quick orgasm, I would rely on porn and a vibrator to get me there quickly. But if that was all I wanted, I would never bother having sex with other people. When I'm having sex with someone, I want it to be an unencumbered journey of exploration with a very specific person. I want no map, no "to do" list, no expectations and no goals. Just all in, focusing on the moment, not on the finish line.
In my mind, the focus on the orgasm rather than everything leading up to it, is like focusing on the wedding but not the marriage - pretty much missing the point.
When I finally figured out that the absence of orgasm was very likely one of the many changes in my body connected to my brain injury, I was almost relieved. But in a culture in which men are trained to win awards, conquer challenges, and be victorious, it's awfully hard to get guys to accept that an orgasm just didn't matter. Now I could blame it on my injury, which was totally justifiable and no guy could possibly take personally.
"So, you just don't have them, at all," one of my friends asked. "Sometimes it happens, but it's unusual, and I usually tell lovers that it's not possible, just because it's easier, and pretty much true."
"I'm sorry," my other friend said.
"Don't be," I explained. "It's great."
In unison, they both said, "how can that be." I did my best to explain the performance pressure around having an orgasm. That in many cases, women feel like they have to get there to please the guy, like the guy will feel like a failure if he can't make you cum. And, of course, we feel like a failure, or like we are flawed and not good enough if we can't get there. Then the whole focus becomes this one thing, and it's just too much pressure. Frankly, it's incredibly hard to have an orgasm under that kind of pressure.
One of my friends is clearly getting it. He explains how he sometimes feels so much pressure to perform, that he's almost not having fun - which has it's own obvious repercussions on his performance and pleasure. It's not dissimilar.
"Imagine if you could remove all that?" I said. "Imagine sex with no pressure, no disappointment, being truly in the moment and not worrying about achieving a goal."
We agree, that sounds awesome. And it is.
However, this is also why many women fake it. It is why I have faked it, often. Shortly after my accident, I had a lover who was probably the best lover I've had to date. Sex with him was mind-boggling, the very sight (thought) of him would make me tingle and we would fuck for hours in ways that would make anyone jealous and hot. (Gasp.) Best sex ever (though I certainly hope to make that statement untrue, eventually.)
I never had a single orgasm with him. Not one. But he
