I’ve Never Had An Orgasm & I’m OK With That

According to Psychology Today, up to 10% of women never experience orgasms in their lifetimes, while up to 42% of us have trouble getting there more often than not. Frankly, such a high number makes me feel like the fact that I’ve never had an orgasm is pretty normal and no big deal, right?

Sex still feels good. This is the most confusing point to people when I tell them that I have never had an orgasm. They don’t understand why I would still have sex if I never get an orgasm from it. Uh, because it feels good? You don’t orgasm from getting your back scratched, but it still makes my toes curl. I also don’t know what an intense high from a hard drug feels like and perhaps unsurprisingly, I’m also OK with that.

My connection to my partner isn’t based on orgasms. Although sex is one way that we connect, more weight gets put on how to come together in other ways. Getting to know my partner’s mind is more intimate to me than getting to know their body. I know that there are people that would disagree, but think about it. You can learn how to make your partner feel good, how to orgasm if they can, and you can even memorize how their body feels, but you’ll never ever be inside of their brain thinking their thoughts and feeling their feelings.

Finding a solution isn’t cheap. Even though I know why I don’t orgasm (read: chronic mental illness), I could still dig deeper and try to find an alternate solution. I could go to my gyno more to see if there’s a medical solution. I could go to a sex therapist or a regular therapist for a psychological solution. I could buy a thousand different kinds of vibrators to find that perfect stimulation. I could get a massage or acupuncture to relax—wait, that sounds good regardless. My point is that all these things cost money that my drowning-in-student-loans self doesn’t have.

Sex is more fun without a goal. I love being able to stop whenever I feel like stopping and not pushing myself to reach orgasm. I didn’t always believe that. I used to try to achieve orgasm and I’d be mad at my body when I failed every time. That’s too much pressure, which definitely doesn’t help you achieve orgasm. Now, I can do whatever I want and experiment however I want (partner consenting, of course) because I’ve given myself permission to not care if I orgasm.

There’s less to clean up. This one may or may not be true because I don’t know if I would squirt or not, but it’s a possibility. Honestly, that’s too much mess. I try to keep sexual fluids off the bed sheets as much as I can. Also, I don’t know if it’s just me, but I always find it on me after I thought I got it all and am putting my clothes back on. I don’t want to subject my partner to that.

Trying to figure out what was wrong made me smarter. When I was younger and I still cared about how to get myself to orgasm, I did a lot of research. That’s who I am as a person. I bet there are plenty of other people out there who have come across a problem with their body and they come out with a wealth of knowledge that only might pertain to the problem. I feel smarter and more aware of my body because of it.

I never really crave it. Sure, sometimes it still sounds nice, but I wouldn’t consider it a craving. This helps while I’m in a long-distance relationship. I know one of the first pieces of advice that you get for trying to achieve orgasm is to masturbate, but it’s boring to me no matter how I do it. I need a partner there, and when mine isn’t, we have fun by playing online video games and by sexting (which is still fun to me as a writer).

I can focus better on what’s happening. I’ve never had a partner that can’t come at all. There have been partners that can’t get there by certain methods, which I was fine with—we still did them because they thought it felt good. Without me worrying about me coming at all, I focus on how I can make my partner feel even better and how I can feel even better. When someone has difficulties orgasming, the worry can become pervasive and I refuse to let it take over my life. Who cares if I don’t orgasm? I don’t.

Weeding out partners was easier too. If I had a partner that was determined to make me come, I knew that they weren’t going to make the cut. They were essentially saying that they didn’t respect my knowledge of my own body and my own desires. I didn’t want sex to turn into some big challenge where if they failed to get me to orgasm, they’d feel bad about themselves when it wasn’t really their fault. That always turned into a downward spiral because my body couldn’t do something that they wanted it to. Thinking like that isn’t fair or healthy for anyone.

I’m forced to trust and communicate with my partner and vice versa. If I say that I’m OK, I had a good time, and that I’m satisfied, I want my partner to believe me. I also need to be able to trust that my partner is OK with knowing that they did nothing wrong. That being said, I make sure to communicate my needs and desires clearly. After all, I can still feel unsatisfied even if I’m OK with not orgasming. Since sex still feels good for me. I don’t want it to just last the two minutes that it can take some partners to finish. I’m not a sex toy.

My experiences and desires are still valid. I don’t care if anyone thinks my sexual experiences are somehow less because I’ve never orgasmed. I don’t care if they think I “haven’t found the right person.” I still enjoy the sex and that’s all that matters.

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