I Faked It… And I Liked It: Why Performance Isn’t Always a Crime

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who admit they’ve faked an orgasm, and those who really need to learn what “performance” means outside of community theater.

I used to feel bad about it. The first time I moaned like a mid-level ghost in a haunted house just to speed things along, I went home and stared at the ceiling like I’d stolen from a church. But after years of faked finales, I’ve realized something important:

Sometimes, faking it is the kindest thing you can do for everyone involved — yourself included.

Now, before the Sexual Wellness Moral Police slap me with a citation for “dishonesty in the bedroom,” let’s unpack this cultural panic around pretending. Why does a little theatrical flair suddenly make you a bad feminist, a terrible partner, and a liar? If anything, you’re an actor. A generous one. You should be tipped.

The Performance Panic

The orgasm — in its slippery, elusive glory — has somehow become the holy grail of modern sex. It’s not enough to have fun. You must arrive. And you must arrive with fireworks, confetti, and the kind of facial expressions you usually only see in reaction GIFs.

This expectation has led to a cultural phenomenon so widespread it deserves its own infographic:

Why People Fake Orgasms (According to Literally Every Study and 2 Glasses of Wine)

Reason	Percent (%)
To end sex sooner	66%
To protect partner’s feelings	62%
To avoid awkward conversation	59%
To appear “normal” or “responsive”	38%
Because I was bored and had laundry to fold	Unknown, but spiritually accurate

This data isn’t just about deception. It’s about pressure — internal, external, and often completely irrational. Women, in particular, are trained to prioritize harmony over honesty. Especially if honesty sounds like “Are you… are you spelling your name down there?”

How I Became an Accidental Performer

I didn’t set out to fake it. No one wakes up and thinks, “Tonight I shall lie for sport.” It starts innocently enough — maybe with an encouraging noise. Then a dramatic sigh. And suddenly, you’re in act three of a one-woman play you never auditioned for, complete with fake leg spasms and a post-coital sigh of faux satisfaction.

Afterwards, you lie there thinking, “Well, that escalated,” and hope they don’t ask for a sequel.

Let’s Be Honest About Honesty

Sex advice columns will tell you to be honest in bed. To communicate. To say, “That’s not working for me,” in a gentle, loving tone that doesn’t hurt feelings or ruin moods or sound like you’re giving a Yelp review mid-thrust. And yes — open communication is wonderful. In theory.

But in reality?

• Your partner just tried something they saw in an educational video titled “9 Ways to Shatter Her Soul with Your Tongue”.
• Your body is 70% disinterest and 30% charley horse.
• You are tired.

So you say nothing. Or worse — you say something nice. And when the moment arrives (or doesn’t), you conjure a polite orgasm out of thin air like a magician with boundary issues.

The Ethics of the Faux Climax

Let’s take a moment to ask the hard question: Is faking an orgasm a lie? Yes. But so is saying, “I’m fine,” when you’re absolutely not. Or “This meeting could have been an email.” We lie all the time in small, social ways to protect people — including ourselves.

Fake It or Break It?

What It’s Like to Stop Faking

At some point, I decided to stop performing. Or at least, to perform selectively. Like a touring artist who only plays her greatest hits. This led to a string of awkward encounters where partners asked, “Was that good for you?” and I replied, “Define ‘good.’”

What followed were some tough but valuable lessons:

1. Most people do want to please you — they just need help.
2. There is no universally effective technique. Everyone is a different Rubik’s Cube.
3. Once you stop pretending, you start exploring.

Honesty in bed is like flossing — awkward at first, but ultimately worth it. And sometimes, it leads to mind-blowing discoveries. Like realizing you actually hate that one position everyone seems to think is hot in movies. (You know the one. With the limbs.)

How to Talk About It Without Killing the Mood

If you’ve been faking and want to shift gears, you don’t need a courtroom confession. Try these conversation starters:

• “Can I show you what really works for me?”
• “Let’s try something different tonight — I want to experiment.”
• “I realized I’ve been rushing through pleasure instead of enjoying the process.”

Notice how none of these are: “You suck and I lied.” Because that’s not the point. The point is evolving — together or solo — toward better, more honest connection.

Better Than Faking: Tools That Actually Help

If faking is the band-aid, tools are the healing balm. No shame in using tech to get where you want to go. Here’s what helps when the goal is real pleasure:

Pleasure Boosters That Outperform the Academy Awards

Tool	Use Case	Why It Works
Clitoral Vibrators	Solo or partnered play	Direct stimulation, consistent results
Wand Massagers	Deep muscle and surface pleasure	Powerful and versatile
Lube	Literally always	Reduces friction, increases sensation
Remote Control Toys	Long-distance or hands-free	Adds novelty and control
Mirror	Solo self-discovery	Helps you learn what looks and feels good

In Praise of the Real (and the Really Weird)

Real orgasms don’t always look like porn. Sometimes they’re silent. Sometimes you snort. Sometimes you cry and laugh and feel weirdly proud, like you just finished a marathon or assembled IKEA furniture without swearing.

What matters is that they’re yours. Not a performance. Not a favor. Not a polite reaction to someone’s sweaty enthusiasm. Yours. And if you’re not there yet, that’s okay. The journey matters too.

You are not a bad person for faking. You are a human being in a complex moment doing the best you can with the tools you have. Just make sure your toolbox has some lube and a healthy dose of curiosity.

The Final Moan

I faked it. You faked it. Everyone at some point has performed their way through a situation to make it easier, smoother, kinder. The goal isn’t to eliminate faking forever — it’s to understand why we do it, when we do it, and whether it’s helping or hurting.

Because pleasure should be a collaboration, not a performance. And if you're lucky, one that ends with something real — a gasp, a laugh, or just the quiet satisfaction of being present in your own body.

So fake it, if you must. Just don’t forget what you’re faking for.