Don’t Come Around Here No More
My fiancé won’t give up in bed until he thinks he’s pleased me multiple times.
Photograph by Teresa Castracane.
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I have gotten myself into a delicate dilemma. I have just become engaged to a man I love and adore. The problem is I have been faking orgasms for two years. We don't live together now and because of our schedules, we only have sex about once a month. It is amazing. I love our closeness and connection. I appreciate that he can go for hours and doesn't want to stop until he has fully satisfied me. But, the truth is, I am satisfied with one orgasm and I just can’t seem to have more than one. I tried telling him that, but he wants to please me. So, to make him happy and to move things along, I started faking. Sometimes up to seven fake orgasms a session. What am I going to when we are married, living together, and (presumably) making love more often? I can't continue this deception every night. Do I admit to my "Harry" the truth? Or do I keep up the pretense? I wish I had never started down this path and had been honest from the beginning.
It’s not too late for the Oscars to include a new category: The Meg "I'll Have What She's Having" Ryan Special Achievement Award for Simulated Orgasm. You’d be a runaway winner. The nub of the matter is that under the guise of pleasing you, your boyfriend has been bullying your genitals in order to boost his own sense of his prowess. It could also be that he hasn’t actually learned the art of going all night, but simply has a problem coming. Over the past two years you’ve had 24 actual orgasms and about 160 fake ones. I suppose a surreptitious approach would be, once you’re living together and having sex more regularly, to suggest capping the ecstasy. If you get in the habit of having sex several times a week, you can explain you find it more satisfying to have one big O and you’d rather not keep humping away until your private parts feel like sandpaper while trying to squeeze out a string of diminishing climaxes. But I think you should be honest, even at the risk that the depth of your sexual deception results in temporary piston failure. Feeling forced to playact is no basis for a marriage. You need to tell him that your initial cries of joy are the real thing, but that you’ve felt so pressured to please him by showing how pleased you are, you’ve been faking the rest. If he wants to do more than stroke his own ego, he needs to start by listening to what you really want. It should be reassuring for him to hear that when you make love you are orgasmic and wholly satisfied.
Dear Prudence: Desperate Single
I work in the IT department of a law firm and I set up conference rooms for meetings. A few of the rooms I set up are right across the street from a brand new apartment building that's almost 50 stories tall. Most of the time you can't see into people's living rooms because the glass is reflective. But between 8 and 9 a.m., because of the angle of the sun, you can see right into people living rooms and bedrooms. One woman gets up around 8:30 a.m. and likes to strut around her bedroom naked. I'm kind of shocked that she doesn't realize how many people can actually see her. I'd like her to know she should pull the blinds down as almost everyone else in the building does at that time of day. The problem is, I have no idea what her apartment number is. Should I contact the building and let them know? I was also thinking of putting up a sign for her, but that wouldn't look good to a client coming in for a meeting.
—Accidental Peeping Tom
I have the feeling your firm may have certain kinds of clients who, were they to be seated directly across from Lady Godiva at about 8:30 in the morning, could be convinced to agree to any proposal your lawyers want to put forth. A sign is a bad idea, as are a telescope or binoculars—although I wouldn’t be surprised to find out your office building is now host to a bunch of workers with a sudden passion for bird watching. It’s incumbent upon the urban dweller to recognize that people who live in glass apartments should put on their underwear. So perhaps what you are observing is this woman’s deliberate desire to strut upon the stage. Your notifying her building’s management of her activities will likely be perceived as a tale told by an idiot. This is no Rear Window in which you peep at your neighbors and solve a murder. If you don’t want to see this woman’s dishabille, just turn away.
I understand “redshirting” youngsters to help them be better in sports is becoming the trend. It may be acceptable to hold back a child entering kindergarten, but I cannot understand it for a 13-year-old boy who will be entering eighth grade. Our wonderful, intelligent, sports-loving grandson is slight in build and has asthma. Our son-in-law is so desperate for his son to excel in sports, he has made the decision to hold him back in seventh grade to ensure he makes the school sports teams. How will he explain to his friends that this is not for academic reasons, but to help get him in the starting position for sports? I’m afraid the embarrassment of this will be devastating. How do I approach this intelligently with my son-in-law?