I've always been a high achiever, and I was determined to give an A+ performance.

So I moaned, I breathed harder, I arched my back, and I hit a higher pitch as excitement built up.

I would pretend to be completely satisfied the second my partner was finished. Meanwhile, privately, I was wondering, "That was it? That's all this is? Why is everyone so obsessed with this activity?"

To make things trippier, I didn't even know that women could orgasm. I was just performing the act to the best of my ability based on the few examples I'd absorbed and hoping I was doing it right. Hoping my partner was getting what he needed out of the experience and would continue choosing me.

• In a national survey, 85% of men believed their partner orgasmed the last time they had sex. Only 64% of women say they actually did.

• Only about 18 to 35% of women climax from intercourse alone; most need or are significantly helped by clitoral stimulation.

• The clitoris has roughly 10,000 nerve endings, about twice the roughly 4,000 in a penis.

• Women weren't born faking orgasms. Many learned to read a partner's arousal cues and perform satisfaction instead of feeling it, often to end an encounter they'd stopped wanting.

• Closing the gap takes specific actions from both partners, not just "communicate more." Five concrete steps for each are included.

Even three years ago, I was still at a point where I wouldn’t talk about sex with anyone because I felt embarrassed and uncomfortable with the topic.

This might seem surprising because I had confidently taught sensual movement through pole dancing in my early twenties. But there was a huge disconnect between how comfortable I could be with sensuality as a form of movement and how comfortable I actually was with my own intimate life.

My sexual experiences were not sending me into orgasmic bliss.

I felt like my body was broken. Like something wasn’t wired the way it was supposed to be.

Could I fully express my femininity and still be met with respect, authority, and recognition in environments that tend to value more traditionally “strong” expressions of leadership and identity. In my experience inside hustle culture and the corporate tech world, softness was not something that felt safe to lead with.

Many women have learned to prioritize their partner's experience over their own, both in relationships and in bed. In this post, I explore how people-pleasing can disconnect us from authentic pleasure and share a simple practice for reconnecting with our bodies.

I canceled the date, even though nothing was wrong on paper. A few days before our third date, I felt something in my body starting to close. The sense that I would have to push myself to show up.

Learning to recognize that feeling didn’t start with dating. It started in my pleasure practice. Slowing down enough to ask for my own consent, and actually listen to the response.