In keeping with this week’s “Did You Come?” theme, one of our recent college grad friends has a confession to make:
The first time my boyfriend didnât orgasm during sex I was completely shocked. This NEVER happened. Was I loosing my touch? Was I not sexy anymore? Was he bored or losing interest? Ironically, it was the first time that I did orgasm during intercourse. So even though I had had a blast and he had seemed pretty damn proud of himself, as we fell asleep there was a lingering, niggling worry in the back of my mind.
I myself had never felt any pressure to orgasm during sex. After all, Iâd read the countless articles explaining that most women donât orgasm from sexual intercourse alone. And I had assumed my body was like most womenâs and needed a little extra oomph to get the job done (a vibrator, oral, manual stimulation, OOMPH!). But I always expected my partner to finish during sex. You hear about women faking it, but never about men faking it â presumably because they always come for real! Not only was I used to him orgasming, I thrived on him orgasming. I loved feeling how heâd lose himself in that moment. It felt like the cataclysmic end to an awesome evening. Suddenly not getting that dramatic, climactic conclusion from him was unnerving.
As he began to fall into his after-sex coma, I realized that if I didnât ask him about it now, by morning my nerve would be gone. So I just blurted it out: âDid I do something wrong?”
Unfazed, my boyfriend lazily rolled over onto his side to face me and laid it all out. “I enjoyed it just as much as always. Maybe I didnât finish because I was worn out from the previous ten times weâve done it this weekend. My body isnât used to being able to orgasm that many times that quickly.â Then he pulled me close and fell asleep.
As reassuring as he was, I still wasnât completely okay with this new development in our sex lives. Old expectations die hard. But I didnât press the issue any further that night since I figured it was a fluke occurrence anyway.
Over the next few months, however, it happened again…and again…and again. Each time I’d ask for clarification, and each time he’d try to set me straight. It wasn’t until after the third time that I finally really heard him: sex together was awesome no matter the orgasm count. I needed to stop obsessing over what had gone âwrongâ those nights he didnât finish and instead realize that the main reason he wasnât finishing was because we had already done quite a lot of things oh-so-right. Just as orgasmless intercourse didn’t mean I wasn’t enjoying myself, the same was true for him.
I felt like yelling âEUREKA!â: Itâs not all about the orgasms!
Since then, weâve had sex end a lot of different ways. Usually it involves him orgasming before we both pass out. But sometimes, neither one of us climaxes. And those evenings (or afternoons or mornings) are some of my favorite memories. There comes a point (no pun intended), around halfway through, when we both realize it’s not going to happen for either one of us. But you know what? That doesnât stop us! Then weâre just having sex to be close to one another, to express how we feel about one another, and to enjoy each other in a way no one else can. And that’s one of the happiest endings of all.