July 7, 2021

Why Women Fake Orgasms.


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*From the author: don’t forget to read Part 1 of this series! Let’s break through the shame and rip the “normal sex story” pants to shreds! I’d love to hear your thoughts.

One of my girlfriends admitted that before meeting her partner, she always faked her orgasms.

But what about all the women who still do?

I wonder how many women have become stuck in that groove.

Is it born of boredom? Of appeasing the other’s ego? Of not wanting to be seen as abnormal? 

What if there are many women having sex with their long-term partners and are faking it? Why the hell should we fake it anyway?

What is wrong with enjoying pleasure for what it is and looks and feels like if it works for you? Because what if one lie becomes the groove your sexual pleasure train runs on forever, a runaway train on the tracks to no-pleasures-ville!?

Of course, this realm is vast, and we cannot ignore the impact of sexual trauma on us. This is not a field I will pretend to have much wisdom in, but there are plenty of extraordinary folks devoted to healing sexual trauma, such as Esther Perel.

Are you happy with the experience that you are having? Does your own pleasure come first? And what about the pleasure that is shared? 

It has to start with us. We have to take ownership and responsibility for what turns us on. And off. 

And if you are, and your experience is satisfying for you, in deepest honesty, then that is your normal. No matter what it looks like to the world. No matter how different it may be from what the media says, or Hollywood, or Disney (f*ck Disney!), or some unobtainable and illusionary standard of normality set by the strange and limited whims of society.

That must mean that there are a billion nuances of normal when it comes to sex. How glorious!

We are all an infinite number of kaleidoscopes turning. Fragments lit up by the mirror-balled disco shards of fate and fortitude, experience and destiny. Endless in form like snowflakes or grains of sand. Like the print of your thumb. Or the rhythmic orchestration of each breath in and each breath out. Unique like the waves forever tiding back and forth.

We move in and out of dominance and submission, giving and receiving, shapeshifting, and role-playing—whatever and whoever the hell else we decide to get our freak on with.

We are not fixed, and so our erotic explorations will not be fixed either—sex is fluid and flexible.

Sex is about play. About allowance and permission. About letting go of what it should look like—releasing the need for having an end goal.

Sex is about communication and listening. To your own body, its pace, pressure, need for touch, curiosity, and care. And then to that of the other, or others, you are sharing the said experience with.

Sex is about learning and unfolding and trusting that each and every trip down turn-on lane is a new one never before taken. Sometimes it’s a good one, astounding, in fact. Sometimes it’s one that moves us to weeping, surrender—to resting on the breast of beauty and bounty. Sometimes it’s one where our “mojo motor” doesn’t get going. Or it’s a super slow ride, and we battle with our patience for pleasure’s pulsing playground.

Sex is never about knowing how or what or when. It’s bigger than us. It can take us beyond the edge—into the “little-death”—if we allow it to. If we go with its flow and steer as co-captains in its direction.

Sex is messy and chaotic. It’s stumbling and confusion. It’s bumped heads, stuck hair, cramped legs, and arms. It’s catching flesh in pinching not asked for. It’s being in sync and out of sync—perhaps a thousand times over. It’s tender and delicious. It’s smell and taste and touch. It’s the vision of curves and hair and glistening body parts. It’s vulnerability and trust. It’s honest words and authentic showing up. It’s the deepest intimacy. It’s a shame tenderly and trustingly given space to spread its wings into new discoveries and landscapes. It’s loud, and it’s quiet. It’s boisterous. It is silently sacred.

It’s a f*ck, and it’s lovemaking—and all the range between. It’s kinky as hell and vanilla as ice. It’s whatever you desire it to be. It’s not one-size-fits-all, and in that, we find relief. And in that relief, we find our own way. And in our own way, we have the possibility of finding ecstasy that resonates and tingles our nerve endings into flowered blossomings of pure orgasmic wonder.

How can we reclaim our own expansive pleasure?

Not just sexually, but in all areas of our lives, so that we ripple and revel in the great ravishing of all life’s moments. If the erotic is in everything, then even the ordinary moments can hold deep, exquisite pleasure. Maybe there’s a revolution happening where we do not dim down our dirty and divine dalliances with Eros. Maybe we can walk through life in full throb. Maybe we can take this space because life’s generosity is always giving. If we are able to receive it—fully receive it.

There’s more to sex than orgasms. There. I’ve said it.

What would beginning to own your own unique sexual blueprint look like for you?

Do you dare to drop the bullsh*t and pretenses? To let go of the shame and the supposed “failing?” To take ownership of your pleasure body, your senses, your enjoyment, your joy? Can life be bliss even when the blisters make your feet hurt? What if we started by giving our attention to other sensations? What if what really helps us to get off isn’t part of the “normal” label? 

It’s fabric and dressing up (or down). It’s ropes and handcuffs and props. It’s toys and lots of lubrication. It’s storytelling and sex outside. It’s a slow tease or a fast whipping. It’s whatever does it for you.

Let’s not forget that all of our erotic experience stems from innocence, the root, the earth, the ground of being. Sensuality is part of innocence, and it’s from here that our sexual energy can warm up.

Can we slowly simmer and sizzle all day long? In our own marvelous company or with another? Can we let go of the marathon and enjoy the view, the journey, the adventure? Can we nod to where our pleasure derives from? Whether it’s pain, fear, shame, or guilt, it’s all part of our erotic blueprint. 

Can we voice what we like, want, need, and desire? What can our minds bring to the party? Can we open to something new? To being new in every moment?

Your pleasure is yours. You deserve it. You can have it. 

You can share it (if you want to) and wow another being. Or keep it for yourself, the flowers, the rain, the storm, the great mystery, and the muse. It is all unique and wonderful.

Let’s drop the race to orgasm through penetration alone and see what pleasures we can create. 

Let’s drop the pressure to get each other off. Instead, let’s get each other on—turned on, that is!

Sex is beautiful, and it’s our birthright to be turned on by life. Do you dare?


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