STORYTIME

La Petite Mort- A Better Way to Die

A tale of many women in one city.

He whispered into my ear, “I can think of few better ways to die than during, or right after, an orgasm.”

I gave him the side eye, wondering if that meant he wanted to make himself orgasm, make me orgasm, kill one or both of us, or all of the above.

Where on earth did the French come up with that saying, “la petite mort”, which means, “the little death”?

One of my girlfriends swears that part of her dies and is reborn every time she orgasms, as well as when she has her monthly period.

She’s one of those people who dives headfirst into the deep end, arms and legs spreading out as far and wide as she can reach. I call her Starfish because of this.

When I first heard the expression, “la petite mort”, I thought that it referred to a man’s penis going from hard to soft after orgasming.

It does go through a “little death” after it has been throbbing and pulsating with life. I mean, it’s a sound theory, but apparently, after doing a little research on the Internet, I found out that my theory was wrong.

The phrase has a long and varied history that I won’t get into (have fun researching on your own, if you’re so inclined), but the gist of the French phrase is, “the brief loss or weakening of consciousness”, which is linked to post-coital bliss.

Starfish’s account of her orgasmic death and rebirth wasn’t as far-fetched as I thought after all.

But damn…was she really losing consciousness or felt it “weakening” to the point where she was teetering on the brink of life and death?!

I had definitely felt that weak at times during my period, but during or after orgasm? Not so much.

I could see this with men, but I had my doubts about women being affected to that degree.

Call me a bit of a prude, especially compared to Starfish, but I think that sex and orgasms are a bit overrated.

Yes, I do agree that dying during or right after orgasm would be a great way to go, if I was alone. It would suck for my partner if we were together though.

Regardless, dying while asleep had always been my death of choice.

I decided to do an informal survey and ask around to see what other people thought- men included, but especially women.

I wanted to know if there were any more women like Starfish who felt something like a “death and rebirth” after orgasming.

I work with a ton of women and created an anonymous online survey that I shared with all of them. I also shared the link on every single one of my social media sites.

My curiosity was piqued, and I wanted to get some real answers from real people, not just read obscure statistics that other, oftentimes male, researchers procured.

Lo and behold, and much to my chagrin, I found out there are a decent number of women who have, and are still having, life altering orgasms.

I seriously needed to step up my game. My survey included a comment section at the end which is where I read the most fascinating and juicy tidbits.

Quite a few women mentioned that they use vibrators to make them orgasm and usually had a favorite “toy”.

I mean, it is hilarious that “toy” is such a common word used for kids, yet the only times it’s generally used as adults is in sexual ways, such as “sex toys”, “adult toys” and “boy toy”.

The irony was not lost on me. Whenever I would hear men describe sex as “fun”, I would roll my eyes and think less of them for debasing something as sacred and intimate as sex.

Yet, the answers I read from numerous women described the importance of being relaxed and playful, having fun while exploring their sexuality.

Had I been missing out on incredible orgasms most of my life because I took sex, including solo sex, too seriously?

Possibly…(that was a humbling moment).

I wanted to die.

And be reborn as this new, sexually playful, relaxed, and open woman.

It felt counter-intuitive at first. I tried too hard and got frustrated by some of my attempts at letting go and allowing myself to be overcome with pleasure.

Slowly, but surely, I started treating myself as I wanted someone else to treat me. I started putting on sexy music more often that made me feel turned on, playful and relaxed.

I dimmed the lights and lit candles a few nights a week. I sprinkled my favorite essential oils in various rooms and occasionally bought myself flowers. I even purchased some sexy lingerie that I loved seeing and feeling against my body.

The barriers of my own construction came down with the best kinds of deconstruction.

Then, finally, at last, it all came together.

I died in a flood of oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine- repeatedly and blissfully.

Lost in consciousness, weakened, and renewed.

“I can think of no better way to die.”, I whispered to myself.

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