You’re Not Weird If You Lose Your Orgasm
But you might have anorgasmia.
Ever since I first heard the word orgasm, I've had a difficult relationship with the whole damn thing. For one thing, it was an unacceptable and dirty word in my family, because any sexual act or desire was considered sinful. Once I became aware enough to even try to have an orgasm, I quickly developed a habit of stopping myself right before I could climax.
I felt too guilty to come.
By the time I was both old and wise enough to chuck the guilt, I did finally achieve orgasm. I was 32. But much to my chagrin, I still struggled to climax and encountered long periods of time during which my orgasm simply went missing.
For many years, I thought I was plain weird. Like, who has so much trouble getting off?
Apparently, a lot of people.
According to Healthline, as much as 41% of women are affected by orgasmic dysfunction, aka anorgasmia. Men can also have the condition, though it does seem to happen most among women.
We can't manage what we don't talk about.
It seems so silly now that I ever lived with the shame of "losing" my orgasm, but that's because, for a long time, I didn't even know what I was dealing with.
Like many young people steeped in the purity culture of evangelicalism, I didn't have the knowledge or language to talk about my sexual health. Up until I began to walk away from Christianity in my early 30s, every conversation I'd ever had about sexuality was filled with the fear and guilt of sin.
From an early age, I was taught that premarital sex was wrong, and that masturbation was the evil precursor to fornication. Even when people did talk about sex within a Christian marriage, nobody talked about the female orgasm.
How we talk about sex and orgasm matters.
One of the most explicit stories about sex that I ever read as a young Christian was in Wild At Heart by John Eldredge:
There is something mythic in the way a man is with a woman. Our sexuality offers a parable of amazing depth when it comes to being masculine and feminine. The man comes to offer his strength and the woman invites the man into herself, an act that requires courage and vulnerability and selflessness for both of them. Notice first that if the man will not rise to the occasion, nothing will happen. He must move; his strength must swell before he can enter her. But neither will the love consummate unless the woman opens herself in stunning vulnerability. When both are living as they were meant to live, the man enters his woman and offers her his strength. He spills himself there, in her, for her; she draws him in, embraces and envelops him. When all is over he is spent; but ah, what a sweet death it is.
And that is how life is created. The beauty of a woman arouses a man to play the man; the strength of a man, offered tenderly to his woman, allows her to be beautiful; it brings life to her and to many. This is far, far more than sex and orgasm. It is a reality that extends to every aspect of our lives.
Oh boy. So there's a helluva lot to unpack in that single passage, but these days I can't help but notice how it's saying a whole lot between the lines without saying anything remotely helpful about sex at all. What an apt summary of my poor sexual education.
At its core, this type of language and imagery of sex is filled with expectations of gender roles, and it's penetrative sex-centric. It assumes orgasm for both parties through vaginal intercourse. Even the comment that "nothing will happen" if the man cannot rise to the occasion is unnecessary, sexist, and shockingly ableist.
What about men with erectile dysfunction? Is penetrative sex all that matters? This kind of sexual language contributes to the terrible myth that a man who can't maintain an erection is not a real man.
And what about women who struggle to reach orgasm? Oh, we just don't talk about that. There is an erroneous and widely held assumption that a woman with the "right man" will experience sexual pleasure with ease.
Just in case you missed it, this type of sexual narrative does nothing to help or empower those who struggle.
We need to talk plainly about sex before we head to the bedroom.
I can't tell you how much shame and guilt I used to feel just because I couldn't climax easily. Some men acted like it was something I was doing wrong, and some took personal offense, while others insisted they knew how to make me come.
Very few partners have understood that sometimes there is just no way in hell that I'm going to get there. It doesn't matter how turned on I am, or how much I want to have an orgasm.
Trust me, I've tried.
It took years for me to unlearn my sexual shame and take my orgasm into my own hands. Obviously, I am the only expert when it comes to my own body and orgasm, and luckily, I can typically get myself there within minutes.
Yet that doesn't mean that anorgasmia is done with me. I still joke that my orgasm occasionally goes missing--because I'm not sure how else to say it. But playing hide and seek with my orgasm is no longer a shock or shameful thing now that I know I'm not alone.
For far too long, I used to apologize for my difficulty or inability to orgasm. As if I owed my partners an easy one. Now I know there's nothing to be ashamed of, but I do talk to men about the condition ahead of time.
The way a potential sex partner responds to the talk says a lot about them.
There are 4 types of orgasm dysfunction.
Personally, I don't think these particular labels matter too much, but some people do find comfort in naming their condition more specifically.
There's primary anorgasmia which means you've never had an orgasm.
Then there's secondary anorgasmia, which means you have difficulty reaching orgasm, even though you’ve had one in the past.
Next, there's situational anorgasmia. That means you can only orgasm during specific situations, like through oral sex or masturbation. This was definitely me for a while.
Finally, there's general anorgasmia, which is the inability to achieve orgasm under any circumstances, despite being highly aroused and having sufficient sexual stimulation. And yes, it sucks.
There's a lot of fluidity here, and a person can move from one type of anorgasmia to another, especially as they begin to work on their recovery.
Some folks will make a full recovery, while others may see a great deal of improvement but still struggle from time to time. Like me.
The causes of orgasmic dysfunction are as diverse as the people who have it.
People want a single cause and a cure whenever we talk about sexual dysfunction, but it's rarely so simple.
There is a wide variety of contributing factors, and for some people, it's a combination of things. There are medical and physiological reasons like getting older, having diabetes, having had a hysterectomy, or using certain medications.
There are also psychological explanations including a person's cultural or religious beliefs, guilt about enjoying sex, a history of sexual abuse, depression and anxiety, or poor self-esteem.
Even stress can cause anorgasmia, as well as hurdles within an intimate relationship, like unresolved conflicts and trust issues.
Whenever a person struggles to reach orgasm, it can feel deeply distressing, and that stress can make the battle to achieve orgasm even worse down the road.
Still, there is hope for the horny.
The difficulty to achieve orgasm is a legitimate sexual condition which deserves your attention and patience. Shame and ridicule have no place in sex (well, BDSM aside), and guilt will only hinder your recovery.
If you happen to have a wandering orgasm, where you just can't seem to pin it down as much as you would like, your first step is to recognize that there's nothing wrong with you.
You're not weird or broken. You just need some help.
Your next step is to talk to your doctor. The standard course of treatment means addressing any underlying medical conditions, switching medications (if applicable), and trying some form of therapy (cognitive behavioral therapy, sex therapy, or even couples counseling).
Typically, you will need to talk to your partner(s), if or when you have one. Sexual dysfunctions are often shrouded in stigma, and you shouldn't have to face that on your own if you've got a significant other or sex partner in your life who's also impacted by your condition.
Lastly, it might seem absurdly obvious and therefore unnecessary, but clitoral stimulation is sometimes "prescribed" in the event of female orgasmic dysfunction. Unfortunately, not every woman has been educated enough about her body to understand her probable need for clitoral stimulation during sex.
Perhaps as equally sad, there are still men in relationships with women today who, for whatever reason, do not value the female orgasm or do not even consider clitoral stimulation to matter. Some men insist that women should be able to climax vaginally through penetrative sex--end of story.
Of course, that's not the end of the story, and the only way to combat sexual dysfunctions like anorgasmia is to make it mentionable. We need to have proactive, healthy, and inclusive conversations about sex and orgasms.
All without shame, please.