A Love Letter To My Orgasm


Dear bigO (and sometimes small-o too),

Let’s take a trip down memory lane. I remember when we first met. I was young and so confused about what you meant. You were late night sparkles tainted by deep under-the-covers shame; you were shaking joy wrapped in self-hate; you were everything and nothing, never spoken about and never explained.

I rediscovered you late in life, and I am so grateful that we didn’t rush into things right at the start. I used to think it was my first boyfriend who introduced you to me, but I now know better than to give someone else agency in my own sexuality.

In the last decade, you have taught me about sensitivity, control, boundaries, limits and letting go. At times you were pleasure, at times it felt like pain; and I’m still wrapping my head around that duality.

It’s been ten years, and I’m still getting to know you. You can be elusive at times, and I think you hide when you know I’m with the wrong person. I still get confused; I still blur the lines between your truth and my fiction. Sometimes I fear that I will only ever truly know you when we are alone. I’m scared to bring someone into our relationship because I can’t always trust myself around men — I fear that my insecurities and obsessive need to please them means that I will lose you.

I want to apologise for using you as a bartering tool. I’m sorry that I spent years denying your reality and simulating a version of you to placate men. I’m sorry that I never took the time to really understand you, what you were trying to do for me, or how you could shape my independence.

I know I can be a little obsessive with you. I can get too fixated, and you become all I think about; all I dream about. It probably gets a bit too much for you, and even though you don’t mean to ghost me, sometimes you just disappear. And then I panic or get mad and proceed to call you at 15 minute intervals to leave you messages like, ‘please come’, ‘I’m waiting’ or ‘fine then, I GUESS WE’RE DONE’. Sorry about that. I’m working on it.

I need you to know that you are important to me, but I have realised you are not the end goal. Ultimately, I need to remember that not having you doesn’t equate to not feeling pleasure; and that I won’t always need to escape into you to feel validation.

Never change — you’re the best. I hope we are always this close.

See you soon (maybe tonight?)