I Can’t Orgasm, But I Fucking Love Sex

I’m watching the windows of the car condense and blur out the night streets as the radio presenter exclaims, “…more and more people are redefining the first time they had sex – whether it be the first time they masturbated, had any sexual experience, or orgasmed…”

I chuckle to myself, more for comical effect than anything else. My boyfriend’s eyes lock with mine from the driver’s seat as if to say, “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll get there,” he eventually says.

I keep chuckling. “Yes, we will.”

At this point, I couldn’t care less if I still haven’t had my “first time” yet, despite having had sex countless times. As the sixth year of masturbating and being sexually active draws to an end, I have accepted it as a part of who I am, as unchanging as the mole on my arm.

It hasn’t always been that way, though. And getting to this point certainly wasn’t linear.

Each relationship I’ve had has presented me with a fresh existential crisis about my inability to orgasm. Back in the day when I was a pimply, emotional 14-year-old, my first boyfriend preached to me how life-changing and incredible masturbating was. That was all the motivation I needed to open up an incognito tab and type in “how to masturbate”. I went at it with sheer determination, the type only matched by men who send unsolicited dick pics on Tinder. However, it was to no avail. The underwhelming sexual experiences one has as a 14-year-old did not further my agenda either. I had a good cry about it at the time, but eventually moved on from the thought, and the relationship.

After that, my attempts at cumming were underpinned by a love-hate relationship with porn and masturbating, as well as the purchase of my first vibrator. No matter how horny I ever was, and no matter how I used my vibrator (in, out, in-and-out, you name it), my body refused to respond. It was the horniest period of my life, I’d finally found porn that was made with women in mind instead of 14-year-old boys and I had some seriously fun sexual experiences. Still, nothing.

I found myself in tears with an incognito tab open for the second time, typing in “how to orgasm”. The internet informed me that some people could only cum from p-in-v sex, or even p-in-v sex with simultaneous clit stimulation. Bingo! Surely, that will do it. I set off to buy lube and condoms, only for my then-boyfriend to break up with me two weeks later.

Two years ago, the moment we (I) had all been waiting for happened: having actual sex. Everyone tells you your first time is painful, and it was, but that didn’t phase me. I was convinced that after the first few times, there was no way on God’s Earth that I wouldn’t cum. Of course, however, God is dead, and my sexual organs don’t want to cooperate. No. It can’t be. Surely!

“Have you tried this toy?” the world chorused at me after a few months of self-loathing. That clit-sucky one, you know the one I’m talking about. The one that makes even the girls who can’t orgasm orgasm. Except me, of course. How can something be too intense to make you orgasm? It baffled me and all whom I told. Once again, I found myself typing into Google (not in an incognito tab this time, because who the fuck am I hiding from?) “why can’t I orgasm?”

This fateful day, I discovered that some research estimates anywhere from 5 – 15 per cent of females (in the US at least) can’t orgasm — at all. I wasn’t crushed when I read these stats. The feeling was more likened to being groped at the club — disappointed, but not surprised. I had always suspected that some people with vaginas just couldn’t. So I diagnosed myself then and there as one of those people.

Throughout this seemingly never-ending cycle, I had never thought to ask myself: do I enjoy sex?

The answer: fuck yeah I do!

There is more to sex than the end game. And when I say that, I’m not just referring to the things that women stereotypically “value” in sex. Emotional gratification, intimacy, and sweet sweet love is a wonderful thing. But when you taking cumming out of sex, that’s not all you’re left with. Getting fucked just feels amazing! Whether that’s my mysterious G-spot existing beyond the fantasies of porn producers or simply the power of good dick, it feels heavenly, and I don’t need to cum to prove that.

When sex feels that good, why bother faking it, too? Men who make a woman orgasm shouldn’t feel the right to a badge of honour as if they’re doing the woman a favour. The patriarchy has pushed the false notion that sex is over when the man cums. If men already get the gratification of cumming every time they fuck, why should they get the false sense of gratification that they made me cum when I didn’t?

Maybe one day when all the stars align and something clicks, I’ll orgasm and it will be a glorious moment. Birds will sing, parties will be held in the streets and a public holiday will be made in my name on that day. But for now, I’ll keep enjoying fucking for fuck’s sake.

Comments