My Orgasm Is Not Your Property (So Stop Saying You Made Me Come)

By Allie Kruk

“Are you there yet?”

“How about now?”

“Are you even close?”

I remember feeling like I was on a really long road trip with a four-year old in the backseat.

Then finally: “You came, right?”

“Um, no,” I replied. “But it’s okay. You tried, I think.”

I could tell by the look on his face that I had hit a nerve. I tried softening the blow to his ego, making excuses about not having breakfast that morning and failing to properly hydrate. It didn’t really help, so I started putting on my skirt and getting up to leave.

“You aren’t going to stay?” he asked.

“No…why would I stay?”

“I don’t know. For cuddling, I guess.”

“But I don’t really like cuddling.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of…I don’t know? Cold? No, wait…Frigid. That’s the word for it. Sort of like an ice queen.”

“No. They haven’t,” I said as I walked out the door.

I wish I could say that I didn’t take his words to heart. I wish I could say I told him off. I wish I could say his comments didn’t stick with me for the past seven years.

But they did.

Maybe it was because I was relatively young at the time he said those words. Maybe it was because when we slept together, I was having a tough time with my mental health and managing my PTSD symptoms.

Yet, even though I knew his comment was sexist and dismissive, I adjusted my behavior accordingly.

In later sexual encounters, I acted like I was enjoying sex when I wasn’t. I “faked it” and fed men’s egos by affirming their sexual prowess. To this day, I still cuddle even though it makes me feel trapped and kind of anxious.

All because I don’t want to seem “cold” or “frigid.”

(Thankfully, now I do have a partner that respects my need for space after sex and doesn’t judge me for sleeping on the opposite side of the bed).