Faking an orgasm, to me, shows a lot of heart, and concern for the other party involved, even. …No one wants to make that long walk of shame to the bathroom after having not made the other person come. And yes, I know — I’m a guy, so I’m not supposed to be able to fake orgasms. But you can. Let me explain to you how.
First of all, it’s crucial to be wearing a condom. Yes, we should all be wearing condoms all the time anyway or WE WILL ALL DIE OF AIDS. But especially for faking a male orgasm, this is crucial. Sex involves — how should I say this? — well, it involves… goo. If you are wearing a condom, said condom will trap that goo. And if you are a dude, and you’re faking an orgasm, then said condom will help trap imaginary goo. You groan and then you “come.” And then, what you do is go to the bathroom really really quickly and remove the condom, disposing of the non-evidence. That’s about all there is to it, apart from the emotional component.
Listen. I know that some people never fake orgasms, but I have. I’ve only done it about six or seven times in my life. …The sad fact is that I often have difficulty coming, which is mostly based on me being stressed out all the time, and also is probably based on the fact that I drink too much and smoke cigarettes. You shouldn’t really do either of those things in the first place, but medical professionals also mention that it makes it harder for you to come, which is the case, let me tell you.
There comes a point when sex just turns into pointless grinding and when will this ever end? Especially if the girl is on top, and especially if her skinny pelvic bones are grinding into your skinny pelvic bones, at which point the whole operation just becomes painful if you’ve been doing it for 45 minutes or so. It becomes less “sex,” and more of “a trip to the dentist’s office” of sorts.
Of course, honey, I would never fake it with you. You can always make me come. I only ever faked it with those other girls. …Right? But the thing is this: I really don’t mind faking it. It’s only polite. I don’t come about 40% of time, but I don’t fake it all the time. I only fake it when I feel really guilty and/or if I really like you.
And the truth is, I don’t mind not coming that much. Woody Allen had some joke about bad sex that I don’t quite remember, but the gist is this — bad sex is still better than 99% of most human activities. Would you rather surf the internet, or have bad sex? You’d rather have bad sex. Talk to your mom on the phone, or bad sex? Bad sex again. See a preview showing of Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon or bad sex? …Well, you get the idea.
But even sex can be boring sometimes, and then you just want to end it. That’s nothing against the person you’re having sex with. Everything can be boring sometimes; that’s just a part of life. There’s a line in the novel Madame Bovary about “the eternal monotony of passion.” Right. Even the best thing that you can think of can be boring sometimes. I like playing video games, but I get bored with them sometimes, even though video games are designed to be fun. I like eating nachos, but if you eat enough of them, then you’re like, “Enough with the nachos already.” Sex is a human activity, and like all activities, sometimes it’s just a little bit full of fail.
I’m not sure if I’m good at faking my orgasms or not. The thing about lying is this… Good liars know to add extraneous details to their lies — this is a way of distracting from the obviousness of the lie itself. A good liar gave me this piece of advice, the thing about adding details… but I, myself, am not a good liar. Still, I make an effort to be a good liar, even if I fail. “Whoa,” I say. “I totally felt like I wasn’t going to come and then it just came out of nowhere,” I say. But unfortunately, a bad lie puts the onus on the listener, not the teller of lies, and so perhaps some girls have had to fake-pretend along with my fake orgasm. I’m sorry if that’s happened, because that’s an awkward situation for everyone.
Fake it till you make it. As human beings, we aspire to reach perfection, but no one can be perfect all the time. If I’m faking it with you, it’s because you’ve made me come a bunch of times already, and I appreciate that. (In fact, my dominant thought while having sex, insofar as I have intelligible “thoughts,” is this — “Yahoo! Hurray for this! This is so much better than most other stuff!”)
And lest you think me a cad, I have been faked on too. I’m sure that I’ve been faked on a million times, but I also have one Confirmed Time that I was faked on. …In fact, the Confirmed Time was with the girl that I once intended to marry. I was fucking her while standing up, while she was lying on the bed, and it had all been going on for way too long, and I think it was the beginning of summer, and we hadn’t installed air conditioning yet, and we were both getting fairly sweaty and gross.
“OH OLIVER!!!” she screamed, and then we could stop.
Cut to five minutes later, when we were spooning in bed–
“…Come on,” I said. “That was total bullshit, right?”
She half blushed, half turned away. “…Yeah,” she muttered.
And I didn’t mind. …I thought that it was funny and cute. …I respected the effort.