A Long Time Coming

I’ve never come with a partner.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve never come because of a partner, a partner has never gotten me off, nobody has given me an orgasm except myself.

There was one time though, a fluke, in college. My then-boyfriend was going down on me, and somehow, I managed to wrestle an orgasm from my clit. But when he sat up and said, “Jesus, took you long enough”, I wanted to curl up into myself and forget about the whole thing. I faked every orgasm from then on out with him. I’ve also come just once with a partner in the room, but I was controlling both my Pure Wand and Eroscillator, and I was a little stoned. Somehow it doesn’t feel like that counts.

When I’m alone, it’s generally easy. I can relax. But when someone is there, these little stabbing thoughts start working into my brain: Are they bored? Am I taking too long? Does my face look weird? Am I still being sexy? Are my sounds sexy? I’m not breathing, that’s not hot. Oh God I have an itch on my face… I’m definitely taking too long. If I fake it I’ll be done with this and I don’t have to be on display like this. They’re definitely bored.

There’s something to be said for not wanting orgasm to be the ultimate goal during sexy playtime. But I know it bothers my longtime partners when they can’t quite seem to get me there. Or even get me close, in some cases. It makes them feel further away from me, and it makes me feel like something is wrong that I should be able to fix. Just relax, just stop thinking about it, just stop worrying, just come already.

Maybe it’s because I don’t value my pleasure as much as my partner’s. It’s obviously more comfortable for me to focus on another person; when someone is focused on me, I feel like I’m under a microscope, being evaluated, being critiqued. I’m sure they’re just looking at my pudgy tummy, or my stretch marks. Maybe they’re thinking about going to work the next day, or how their hand is cramping. I find it difficult to fantasize about things, even when I’m alone. My mind wanders, and I assume my partner’s will too.

It’s probably made more difficult by the fact that I’m taking two antidepressants, both of which list sexual side effects on their list of accompanying issues. But I’m not going to stop taking those, so that’s a dead end. Part of me wants to blame it on my asexuality. Sure, sex with a good person is fun, but I don’t often get how someone would want to focus on it for as long as it takes me to come. Of course, my rational mind says Fuck off, you love it when you get to focus on your partner for that long, why should they be any different? And naturally, that’s right. My asexuality has nothing to do with my ability to get off, and I can’t use that as an excuse.

I’ve thought about trying to take a different tact. About telling myself that I’m just not allowed to come, thinking that maybe the reverse psychology of it all would help. But I’m a goody-two-shoes submissive, and I always do as I’m told, so trying to trick my brain that way doesn’t really seem to work. I’ve thought about just trying to take orgasm off the table entirely, to not even think about it. But I can’t not think about the fact that my partner is probably still thinking about it. That’s enough to kick off my orgasm anxiety. I’ve even thought about getting dommy partners to tell me to come, in hopes that my aforementioned submissiveness will help, but instead I preemptively drop at the thought of disappointing them.

I don’t even really know how to finish this post. I want to be all optimism, especially since I think my current partner is the best I’ve had, and I’m lucky to be with someone so patient and understanding. But I can’t seem to shake the general disquiet I feel about focusing on myself, about getting in and staying in my head long enough to get off. I can’t seem to ditch the frustration at my clit for being so dang particular that it makes it difficult for partners to keep doing what they need to in order to make me come.

Even the night before this post went live, I had… feelings. My partner was going down on me, spending some quality time between my thighs since we hadn’t seen each other in a while. Things were feeling good, and then all of a sudden, I was sobbing. Because… I don’t know. It was a combination of feeling guilty that he was spending so much time and focus on me, feeling like a fraud as an asexual-identifying chick, and being genuinely afraid of coming in front of him. For some reason. All that only further proves to me that it’s in my head. There’s not an issue with me physically. It’s just a mental block, at this point.

I want to make it a goal of 2017 to finally eek out some semblance of an orgasm with and from a partner, but that almost feels like setting myself up for failure. Maybe I’ll focus more on the actual experience of getting to be with someone I care about instead of getting off. That’s more important anyway.