Why You Must Never Fake Your Orgasm


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I want to talk about the less-than-glamourous side of the sex. The side that perplexes, thwarts, and strains hope from us as sexual beings.

Let me set the scene. . .

Your heart has sent out a special intention to the universe for some sexual play to take place. You’ve trimmed your pubic hair, lit earthy-smelling incense, and anointed your body with oil. You’re wearing your best lacy things, or your best coy smile, or perhaps nothing at all. A record that coaxes out your most saucy carnal kitten plays softly in the background.

You lay your head against a soft pillow (or the crook of the rim on your bathtub), your hands strategically placed onto, over, within your most secret pleasure centers. You breathe in deeply, relaxing every part of your body. You’re ready and rearing to go.

And so you begin the voyage towards sexual release, dancing with the rise of energy building in the room and between your legs (and perhaps with your partner, if they’ve decided to take this trip with you). Waves of desire travel throughout your body, making every cell within you radiate with pleasure and longing.

Suddenly, your breath quickens, your vision blurs, your body fuzzy and slowly melting into the surface below you. The epic release is near; you can feel it, and you’re anticipating it, the grand finale of your erotic play.

But. . . nothing comes.

So you try once more, continuing to focus on the tipping point of your senses, rallying for that ecstatic moment when the space-time continuum halts and the lush, sultry dopamine kicks in. You diddle away diligently, conjuring up your most naughty fantasies, hoping to further seduce your orgasm.

But still, nothing comes.

Perhaps your partner has finished by now, or is waiting (patiently, curiously) for you to join them alongside their own erotic explosion. Or maybe you’ve looked over at the clock on your nightstand to see how much time has passed — 11 minutes, 39 seconds in counting. Or maybe you’ve lost wetness, though your arousal is still present. None of it really matters now that you’ve lost momentum

It is then that something else begins building up inside of you: Anxiety. Confusion. Exasperation. Nagging. Your thoughts turn from licentious to utter discombobulation.

Where is my climax?

This question tightens around your subconscious, and the more you pull away from it to focus on this moment of high passion, the more it continues to constrict around your mind like a Chinese finger trap.

The clock is ticking. Your partner’s getting closer (or more confused). Your bath water’s getting cold. Your frustrations have peaked to the highest level.

And at this moment of unrelenting stagnation, you feel you have two choices:

a) admit defeat, or. . .
b) fake an orgasm.

In our minds, faking an orgasm appears to be the lesser of two evils. To admit defeat is to succumb to our perceived sexual dysfunction, our inadequate shortcomings. Walking away limp and flustered implies that we quit; that all of that beautiful, sexual energy must now be prematurely put to rest as we give up and into our brokenness.

With faking an orgasm, however, we’re aiming to serve the greater good of our sexuality — a noble cause. We want a release. We want to feel electrically charged with arousal. What better way to hurry along the process than to fabricate a climax. Perhaps if we fake it adequately enough, we might finally begin to feel something, thus spurring on a true, honest-to-goodness orgasm (or so we think).

That is perhaps one reason we fake it — to try to feel something, anything. Others might be out of niceness, out of obligation, out of fear of disappointing our long-winded and sexually-eager partners. But one of the most common reasons we fake it is to perfect a specific self-assigned role within sex.

Sex is often misperceived as an elaborate performance, one that has been rehearsed over and over in our minds since we first began to understand what sex is. If this performance goes as planned, we and our sexualities are validated. If the performance doesn’t go well, if our bodies defy us, we panic. We stammer through our lines, we fill in the blanks, we imitate arousal.

We fake our orgasm because it’s easier to lie than to face the truth of why we may not be climaxing in the first place. {Tweet!}

With this lie, we create a specific role to play, a caricature of what our logical minds envision sex and arousal to be. Our identities then get so wrapped up in the role we’re playing that this fake portrayal of orgasm becomes our orgasm. It takes time for this to happen, of course, but it does happen.

I heard a story once where a woman faked her climaxes so often and for so many years that she had no concept of what an orgasm — what her orgasm — looked or felt like. In that same story, her partner, who had always felt very proud of the way he gave her pleasure, never knew she was faking it and felt utterly betrayed by her dishonesty.

We don’t immediately see it, but manufacturing our arousal has negative repercussions, and not just in our sexual relationships.

Falsifying orgasmic release by mimicking the fake climaxes we’ve witnessed with our own eyes is a slap in the face to our sacred sexuality.

Faking it stunts our sexual growth. It creates a dark cloud of dishonesty that hovers incessantly over our relationships. It’s also a gross misuse of our erotic power, the one that is sacred and spiritual.

This is why we must never fake our orgasms.

Next time you find yourself straining for orgasmic release, rather than take the easy way out by way of elaborately performing a fake climax, say these words (or something like them) to yourself:

I choose to honor what my body is trying to tell me in this moment.
I will not force it to do something it does not want to do.
I will not be angry with myself or with my body for its idleness.
Instead, I will let it be. 

Deciding to halt sexual play because you cannot climax doesn’t mean you lost a battle, just that you’ve pressed pause on your sexy time.

You can always finish what you started a little later.

BONUS! Questions to ask yourself. . .

If you want to go even deeper in the Why of faking it, ask yourself these questions:

  • How much pressure am I putting on myself to perform in a “role” of sex?
  • When I fake it, from what emotion does it stem from? (i.e., niceness, obligation, impatience, frustration.)
  • What can I reveal to my partner (or myself) about why it is I fake orgasms? 


© 2018 Ev'Yan Whitney. All rights reserved.