Fake Orgasms Are Hurting America

Habitual orgasm fakers, I’m not going to mince words: you’re ruining everything.

There comes a time in most women’s lives when we must choose between what is right and what is easy. I’m not talking about some noble Snowden-esque self-preservation versus principle-preservation conundrum, or even the choice between watching a Frontline exposé on American health care versus spending three hours looking for clips of the first season of Joe Millionaire on YouTube. I’m talking about whether, when it’s clear that a sexual encounter is not going to result in orgasm, to pretend to achieve sexual climax — or, like a good captain, go down with the ship (so to speak).

I realized as I was discussing this with a coworker the other day that we each had our own complicated morality around the subject (I don’t do it unless it’s under weird circumstances, like I’m playing a high-stakes game of backroom charades or it’s the year 2011 and I’m drunk; she does it if she’s bored and wants to end the sexual encounter while preserving her partner’s feelings), and that the multi-step mathematical formula around faking it varies from woman to woman. I started asking my friends; each of them had a veritable infield fly rule of caveats that justified faking in their minds. Then I asked the internet. And it seems that while every woman has unique reasons for their pro- or anti- fauxgasm stance, one thing is clear: fake orgasms are not only bad for you, they’re bad for sex in general, they keep everyone from being their happiest, and as of press time, science hadn’t ruled out their role in causing global warming.

I understand why women would want to fake it — generally speaking, sex starts to get tiresome when it lasts for much longer than an episode of Parks & Rec, and it’s especially tedious when the dude is unskilled or the chemistry that was so present at the bar or at work or on that OK Cupid date suddenly disappears once the panties drop. And one quick way to end a dead-end sexual encounter? Fake it.

Here’s the thing: fake orgasms are a short-term solution to a long-term problem. Sure, they might put an end to one less-than-stellar sexual encounter, but over time, they make things worse for you, worse for your partner, and worse for everyone who you and your partner ever have sex with in the future. Fake orgasms are like littering. If everyone throws their shit on the ground instead of carrying it 6 blocks to the next goddamn garbage can, soon the streets will be littered with Diet Coke bottles and that flimsy cellophane wrapper they inscrutably put on packs of gum. It will look like shit. And we’ll all be a little to blame.

Fauxgasms are a form of dishonesty, which we all learned from Dr. Phil is Bad at face value. But what’s extra bad about fake orgasms is that they’re inaccurate feedback that might give your partner the wrong idea about how to please you or subsequent sexfriends. In the words of one sex-having lady,

I don’t think it’s okay to fake an orgasm if the sex is awful and you just want it to be done. It’s just telling whoever you’re with that what they’re doing is right and there’s essentially nothing you would change, so they’re going to keep doing whatever makes the sex suck.

If a person is enough of a grown up to have sex, then they should be enough of a grown up to mentally withstand the knowledge that they’re not always fucking like a psychic Olympian. Not only is preserving a guy’s ego no excuse for turning into Meryl fucking Streep every time you’ve got a dick in you, rampant orgasm faking is creating a population of men who have gone through life with inflated sexual GPA’s. Think about it: every time you fake, you’re giving out a gentleman’s C. You’re the Yale of sex. Your grade inflation could be unwittingly responsible for the next George W. Bush of boning. (OK, that metaphor got away from me — but you catch my drift.)

Furthermore (she said as she stood up and raised her voice, prompting everyone else in the room roll their eyes and make momentary, knowing eye contact) if you’re with a person with whom you must habitually fake and are not comfortable enough communicating with to tell them how to get your rocks off properly, then maybe you shouldn’t be with that person. Maybe there’s someone much better suited for you currently fucking someone else who is faking it. Maybe there’s a whole daisy chain of dysfunctional, cowardly faking that’s holding everyone back a little bit. We’re part of one big society, man. Circle of life. Etc.

That being said/ranted, there are narrow, noteworthy exceptions to the Just Don’t Fake rule. For example, IF you are in a long-term relationship with someone (or if you are in a long-term sex situation you refuse to refer to as a “relationship” with someone even though that’s what a “relationship” is GOD GET IT TOGETHER YOU HORNY COMMITMENT PHOBIC MILLENNIALS) who already knows how to ring your bell, AND you are tired, or drunk, or otherwise clearly unable to climax AND your partner has tried all of the stuff that normally works AND you know that it’s not going to happen, THEN AND ONLY THEN your faking isn’t polluting the sexual environment (That’s according to a loose consensus by my completely non-scientific sample of slutty friends and contacts. So, you know, it’s basically Scripture.)

There’s also this justifiable (and hilarious) fake-is-ok scenario laid out by one friend’s mom.

As my mother calls them, “Johnny Goes Off To War Fucks”. My dad traveled a lot for work (ew, not going there with their sex life) and my fiance travels a LOT for work, mainly internationally. 99% of the time these “bon voyage”/”welcome home” trysts are fabulous, but sometimes I’m fucking exhausted or his plane got delayed or blah blah messiness of life… and yeah, I want to make him happy and then finish my book and go to sleep.

Well, that’s as good a note as any to end upon. Happy sex having, you harridans, and stay honest.