Good Vibrations Magazine

I had always thought of myself as a sexually progressive person.

I had little difficulty acknowledging my bisexuality early on in my teens and once I became sexually active, I liked to think of myself as someone who was open to experimentation whether it was new positions, new partners, fantasy play or Bondage/Fetishism. What I didn’t realize until my early twenties, was that no matter how open I believed I was in my sex life there was always one thing I was always too embarrassed to admit -— that I was only able to achieve an orgasm through prolonged clitoral stimulation (i.e. if I was with a boy, I could only orgasm while on top).

Growing up, most of my sexual education came from the media. I would see sex scenes in movies or on television and watch these beautiful women time after time have wild, uncontrollable orgasms while their partner was penetrating them from above. After a while I began to think I was abnormal since I could not achieve an orgasm that way.

Since I was never in an atmosphere where the subtleties of female orgasm were openly discussed, I had no idea just how many women needed clitoral stimulation to orgasm as opposed to a vaginal penetration. While I relished in discussing my favorite aspects of sex with my partners, I never had the courage to tell them that the one thing I really needed was to be on top, and so I had my orgasms when I could, and out of shame faked it a number of times when I was restricted to being “a bottom”.

I was so convinced it was my problem that I never felt the need to tell my partners the truth and so this pattern continued for years.

The scary thing was I knew I enjoyed sex, but my denial that I was entitled to an orgasm was preventing me from truly enjoying the experience. I was so worried about what would happen if I couldn’t get into my groove that the focus became on the orgasm alone instead of connecting with my partner on a physical and emotional level. The fear of if and when I would be able to cum and then, if not, when and how I would have to fake it in order to please my partner became a consuming act.

At the time, I don’t even think I was conscious of the toll this was taking on me until one fateful Sunday night in college, Sex and the City came to the rescue.

Now, whether or not you were ever a fan of the show, there is little doubt about its significance of discussing and creating discussions about the parts of sex that were usually left to the imagination. I can’t even remember what the episode was about, but as usual the four main characters were gathered in a coffee shop once again discussing their recent sexual exploits when Samantha mentioned (as usual) some amazing sex she had had that week.

If you blinked you would have missed it, but in a line that has permanently altered my thinking about my own sex life, Charlotte uttered something to the effect of, “You mean you can cum when he’s on top?”

After that the conversation quickly changed, but all I could hear was, for the first time in my life, another woman admitting that she could not orgasm while a underneath her partner. I actually felt my eyes welling up and since I was watching the episode with a group of people, I had to leave the room.

It may sound naïve or maybe it was just another example of why a healthy sexual dialogue is so necessary, but it was a nearly religious epiphany that maybe there wasn’t something wrong with me after all, that other women, perhaps lots of other women couldn’t have mind blowing orgasms while lying on their backs.

From that point on, I gained the courage to finally be able to tell a sexual partner what I needed in order to orgasm, and amazingly enough I found that they wanted to help me orgasm any way I could.

Since being able to open up, I have, with the help of understanding partners been able to orgasm while on the bottom, I sensation I truly believed I would never feel. Plus, with the pressure gone, having sex naturally became better on its own. After all, when you are not constantly worrying about your orgasm, sometimes it finds you rather unexpectedly.

Looking back, it seems strange that I let my misguided fears about what is and what isn’t an appropriate orgasm rule my sex life for so long, but without knowing the truth, how could it not? If there is a moral to this story, it is not a new one. We are constantly told by experts, friends, and even lovers that an open, honest sexual dialogue is imperative for a healthy, satisfying sex life.

For a long time I believed that conversation had to end at a certain point, the point right before I could admit what I really wanted. Perhaps it is also fitting that the kind of stereotypical sexualized media that reinforced my negative attitudes was obliterated by an open, more positive one. However it happened, what is important to remember is that ideas about sex are all around us all the time, constantly shaping our sexual selves, whether we are ready to admit it or not. Part of why I wanted to work here at Good Vibrations was to start dispelling those myths where I can and replace them with more sexually-responsible information.

This story is my first step.