Every Sunday on my own blog, I run a column called Go Ask Aunt Becky, and while normally the questions that come in are a mixture of things that are designed to tease me, make me scratch my head or enlist my cadre of smarter friends for help, rarely do I get anything about The Sex. Luckily, this week when asked about The Sex, I was given a question that my sexy co-blogger over here, Dear Redhead, recently answered about female anorgasmia during sex, preventing my already overworked Google Search engine from picking up more viruses.
But it got my small, pea-brain thinking about my unlucky friends who don’t get off during The Sex, because this certainly wasn’t the only time I’d heard about this. According to the Mayo Clinic, a whopping seventy percent of women cannot experience orgasm through intercourse alone. This got the rusty wheels in my head thinking about faking orgasms and why we do it. While I’m going to confess that I am one of those lucky bitches that can successfully get my rocks off while humping, it doesn’t happen every time. Why?
Sometimes I Fake It
Maybe I’m distracted, or maybe the medication I’m on makes it really difficult to achieve orgasm in any instance (many anti-depressants, anti-histamines and blood pressure medications can cause it), maybe I feel fat all of a sudden, maybe I lost that loving feeling because the moon is hitting the wall at a 43 degree angle, or maybe tonight just isn’t my night. It happens. Sometimes I fake it. Usually, I don’t. I’ve been with The Daver long enough to know that he knows when I’m faking it and I don’t see any point in protecting his feelings. It’s me, not him.
Harry Met Sally
That said, I absolutely understand why faking an orgasm would be a necessity in a relationship, especially if initial boning sessions were enhanced by fake orgasms. Who wants to take a step back and say, “Oh and by the way, baby, I’ve never once gotten off by you, but it’s not you, it’s me?” That’s going to hurt, no matter what, because as Sally demonstrated in that deli scene When Harry Met Sally, even the fakest of fake orgasms can be convincing as, well, fuck. There is a lot of ego wrapped up in one’s ability to please their partner and hearing that, for whatever reason, they’ve been faking all along is going to be a tricky conversation.
Women aren’t the only ones who do it, either. Men do it too, although not as easily, of course, since ejaculation accompanies orgasm. But why do we do it? Why not be honest about it from the get go? If it’s not something that we can physically help, why shouldn’t we be up front about it?
Well, for one thing, it’s sort of embarrassing to talk about, especially in a new relationship, especially if it’s a recurring issue. I mean, who wants to be all, “I have a problem getting off, yo.” I have friends who can’t shit in their boyfriend’s bathroom, so mentioning that they can’t have an orgasm through sex alone, well, that’s a challenge. So, I should add to even the playing field here, is a micro penis and dangly ball-bag. For a lot of us, it’s just easier to be all, “OOOOOOOH BABY” and be done with it. But rolling over and having your motor still running while your partner is all endorphined out is kind of craptastic. Eventually, I’d imagine, it would lead to some resentment.
I’ve Counted Ceiling Tiles
Sometimes, though, it’s just to get the job done because really, you need to get going. As for me, I know within thirty seconds if I have the chance of The Big O, and if I don’t, well, there’s no sense in both of us spending the rest of the night trying to achieve something that’s just not going to happen. The crotchal region goes numb and chafes after awhile and sometimes, well, the sex just isn’t that good. I distinctly remember answering my phone once, while I was dating in flagrante delicto (I think that means in the middle of pitiful sex) and then not hanging up because the sex was just that bad. I’ve counted ceiling tiles, mentally redecorated rooms, rewritten my to-do list, gone over the bones in the foot, and had texting been in vogue while I was dating, I probably would have been all about that too.
It’s A White Lie
I’m making myself sound like I either had more bad lovers than you can count, or that I never stopped having The Sex, and I suppose that the answer is somewhere in the middle. We’ve all been there and we’ll all be there at some point and the overwhelming consensus is that faking an orgasm once in awhile is sort of like telling your best friend that she looks sexy as fuck in the new pair of True Religion pants that actually make her ass look like the back end of a tank. It’s a white lie. And it’s one that I can live with. Because at the end of the day, I’d rather hear you say, “I can TOTALLY tell that you lost five pounds” rather than “well, you’re still a fat ass, Becky.” Why? It’s easier on my ego.
Honesty isn’t always the best policy. I can safely tell you this because once, right before I got married, or, should I say, very nearly DIDN’T get married, I jokingly asked The Daver if I was the hottest girl he’d ever dated. Ladies, gentlemen let me warn you, don’t ask this, okay? Just. Don’t. Because if your significant other is Captain Dumbass like mine, they will answer truthfully, “no.” And that will not make you smile. Instead, you will want to lob things at their head and it will hurt your feelings tremendously.
That is how I know that occasional white lies are important parts of relationships and faking an orgasm once in awhile is probably okay. If it’s more than occasionally, though, maybe it’s time to mix stuff up in the bedroom or take some of my sass-a-licious friend Dear Redhead’s advice. And remember, as your Aunt Becky learned the hard way, there ARE stupid questions to ask your spouse. Plenty of them.
So what do you think about the Big O. Fake ‘em? Don’t fake ‘em? Why? Why not? Should we do it to spare the feelings of our partner?
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