Marija Savic

Why The Orgasm Isn't The Best Part Of Sex To Me

Don't get me wrong; I really like orgasms. It's intoxicating to have a spine-tingling, 30-second, orgasmic eruption of bliss.

I give myself orgasms. I get them from other people, and I give them to other people.

Orgasms. Orgasms. Orgasms.

I've written a lot about orgasms, too. I'm a sex and dating writer, so they're most definitely a hot, well-researched topic in my world.

I would never undermine the holy grail that is the female orgasm. And I think it's very important that girls know it's their absolute right to demand one during sex.

It's also really important to give yourself orgasms because not only is it empowering, but it helps you get to know your own body better. And when you understand what make you tick, it's far easier to communicate your sex needs to your partner.

And when your sex life is better, the entire world just feels better — trust me.

When your sex life is better, the entire world just feels better — trust me.

However, while I ~love~ the orgasm, it's not the most thrilling part of sex for me, personally.

I know a ton of girls who experience "blue vagina," the female equivalent to "blue balls." I know a girl who keeps a tally above her bed to keep track of how many orgasms her boyfriend gives her.

I also know plenty of girls who feel like sex is pointless without orgasms. And that's all fine, honey! The beauty of female sexuality is that each one of us is wildly unique, like a precious snowflake.

The beauty of female sexuality is that each one of us is wildly unique

For me, an orgasm is like a maraschino cherry on top of an ice cream sundae. It always provides an additional sugar rush on an already amazing sundae.

But you know what excites me even more than maraschino cherries? Creamy, luxurious, vanilla ice cream.

I like to take a spoon and slowly savor the taste of the silky vanilla as it slides down my throat, cooling my insides and giving my body an unexpected spasm as my senses are gorgeously triggered, baby!

Sometimes, I'll even go at it with my tongue. (I'm a savage.) Like, when I'm really ravenous, I'll say, "Screw the spoon, kitten! I'm going in with my mouth."

I like the chocolate sauce, too. The juxtaposition of hot, velvety chocolate sauce and cold, vanilla bean ice cream is enough to make me melt with joy.

If I never get to taste the sweet burst of the candied cherry, I'm still totally satisfied. The ice cream sundae experience is gratifying enough without it.

I get lost in all the other magical details of the treat. I don't turn down cherries, but I know how to have fun without one.

Are we connecting the dots now?

What I'm really trying to say is this, kittens: When I'm having sex, the most thrilling part of the experience is that moment when I stop thinking.

When I'm having sex, the most thrilling part of the experience is that moment when I stop thinking.

I'm one of those girls who's always inside her head. Even when I'm having sex, my overstimulated brain is usually still overcome with swirling thoughts:

"Oh, what am I going to write about THIS week? Oh, that documentary I watched the other night about the young Russian models living all alone in Tokyo was really disturbing, wasn't it? When was the last time I treated myself to a new dress? I NEED a new dress."

But if the sex is really good, all of sudden, I'll hit this ethereal moment of nirvana, and I'll stop thinking.

If the sex is really good, all of sudden, I'll hit this ethereal moment of nirvana, and I'll stop thinking.

I become purely animalistic. I'm suddenly lost in the ~visceral feeling~ of my partner's body pressing against mine. I'm intoxicated by her raw scent as her hands tug at my hair. I'm enthralled by the way we're grooving together, sexually in sync.

I love the way my heart races, and I love the wild energy that swishes through my blood. Adrenalin pumps through my veins, but it's a blissed-out adrenalin, not a frightened adrenalin.

I love exploring that texture of human skin, and I love when you just seem to intrinsically understand a body.

It's like you're channeling some higher power and you know exactly how to touch them, exactly where to touch them. And they know exactly how to touch you and where to touch you. It's communication on the most profound level.

And the sensation of someone's warm breath tickling your naked flesh? Holy shit. I live for feeling the hot-and-bothered breath of another person on my skin.

It's like meditation. My mind blacks out, and I'm lost in the heat of the golden moment.

Having an orgasm becomes secondary because I'm so utterly lost in the rest of the experience.

And the only way I can describe the feeling of being so hyper-connected and present in the details is "thrilling."

It's thrilling to tap into that tucked-away part of myself and my partner. It's far more thrilling (to me) than an orgasm.

For the record, I usually do have orgasms when I'm having sex. Lesbians tend to be committed to giving their partners orgasms, and you can't really get away with faking one when you're hooking up with a woman.

You can't get much past a woman. And of course, I appreciate dedication to anything, especially dedication to my pleasure. (I'm a bit of a narcissist like that, but I swear I'm NOT a pillow princess.)

But sometimes, I just don't physically orgasm. And lesbians tend to take it as a real blow to the ego when they don't make you come.

But I just want to shake all of my lesbian lovers throughout my life and explain that not coming doesn't mean it wasn't the most mind-blowing sex of my entire life!

For me, it's really more about the journey than it is about the destination, you know?