Your Body

I’m So Sorry Ladies, But We Can NEVER Stop Faking The Orgasm.

By January 19, 2016 1
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So one of our bloggers recently wrote an article about why as women, we really need to stop faking the orgasm.

It was witty, it was honest, and its conclusion was SPOT ON. I mean, wtf man, it is 2016. Of course it’s time that we stopped pretending much to the detriment of the females thereafter; a whole society we’ve created with arbitrarily inflated egos, because we “OMG WOW”ed, once upon an undeserving time. 

I’ve faked it a lot, more times than I’m comfortable admitting. And by “more times than I’m comfortable admitting”, I mean 6,214 1/2 times. In fact, by societal standards, I’m something like an aspiring actress, so when Zoe published her article admonishing these actions, I did a standing ovation mentally.

Yup. She was 100 percent right. 

And not only was she fucking right, she was also entirely wrong.

Because (and trust me, I hate myself for asking this question but—) what exactly is the alternative? Really, truly play out the alternative with me here for a second:

OK. It’s gettin’  Nelly hot in hurr. So you take off all your clothes. Hopefully, you won’t turn around to him and rap back,  “I-Am-Gettin-So-Hot. I wanna..”, and instead just begin to have sexual intercourse.

And everything’s going okay.

You thought..

Alright  no, things just became a little “ehhh”

Followed by “Nope. Not even if I provided him with a map.”

And finally, it’s “could we not and say we did?“.

But NO, you cannot NOT AND SAY WE DID because you’re already doing it! You are in the middle of already doing it!  So what’s the exit strategy here, ladies? 

We should first examine the issue practically, which is to say that you are already a notch on one another’s belt. This means, that there can be no “haha, JK, my number is now 6 1/2” maneuver, so you can stop yourself short of hoping this little shin-dig won’t count. It does, and unfortunately, it’s still happening. 

I suppose you could look up and in a moment of brutal honesty be all like “hey so, I’m really not feeling this and I would prefer we just stopped”, but who the fuck would actually do that? Woman or man, that sort of a cutthroat interjection is socially unacceptable, and so assuming you have a soul, you’ll skip past that plausibility altogether.  

There’s a zero percent chance even I could pull that one off, and as a human being, I tend to err on the side of not giving a fuck.  That’s partially due to my thoughtful realization that such a declaration would immediately backfire.  We don’t live in Harry Potter world; the person will not thereafter teleport back to his home, which means you will instead be subjecting yourself to world’s most awkward silence ever, as he gathers his clothing (or worse, he doesn’t and lays besides you whimpering), his ego splattered all over your carpeted floor. 

And if those walls could talk, they’d tell you that this scenario is a hell of a lot more painful than committing to 10 seconds of going for an Emmy—am I right or am I right?

So are there any other options, you ask?

Surely. 

You could lay there politely and allow him to continue, perhaps secretly hoping that he’s the marathon-type—saving his best tricks for the final laps. And if he’s not then you can suppose he’ll grow tired eventually. Eventually—while you mentally go through your grocery list (I think I have another bag of pine nuts in the cabinet somewhere) and he continues to do his absolute best to get you there. You can bet he’ll be using the same fool-proof moves that drove the last girl to a fake orgasm. 

Yep that’s the your final alternative, and quite frankly, it’s just sad. Sad for you, sad for him, sad for the pine nuts even, which would really rather not be thought up into this pathetic situation at all.

It sucks to say it, but you and I both know that the fastest way to end your misery is to just make him think he’s Elvis Presley. Don’t fake one, fake twelve. Tell him you can’t even feel your insides anymore; that your mind is literally so blown, the CSI will be crawling all over the place if he doesn’t dismount and get the fuck out of there—RIGHT NOW. 

And then it’s over and you’ll never have to do that again. 

Because ultimately ladies, the truth is geometrical; the fastest way from Point A to point B is a straight line. 

A loud, gratuitous, can-I-file-this-as-charitable-on-my-tax-returns, sucky straight line. 

Comments

  • ScentedNectar

    Perhaps you should be honest with your lovers for the following reason…

    Even though you don’t seem to have a basic sense of honesty with people you are intimate with, how about for selfish reasons? If you keep faking your orgasms, your lovers will keep thinking they are doing things in bed that you like and they’ll keep doing that. If you’re honest with them though, maybe you can work it out with them what you DO really like.

    Why on earth are you even having sex if you are not enjoying it? To impress them? For the attention? So that they’ll brag that your (faked) performances were really hot in bed? To get something from them like a relationship or things bought for you, for the social status of dating a guy that your friends are envious of? You’re not doing it to make babies, so that can’t be the reason.