Let’s be real: cumming isn’t everything. While it’s often painted as the end goal of sex, a spasmodic moment of ecstasy, or on the crusty sock in your brother’s room, other just-as-climactic experiences can be found through sex and masturbation. Human connection, new emotions, realising your sexual identity, and other pleasant physical sensations can also be an outcome of intimacy. But, if everyone can cum, why should we accept sex without an orgasm? Because not everyone can cum. According to MedlinePlus, at least half of all sexually active women struggle to climax consistently and around 10% have never experienced such. And this isn’t just a few statistics, it’s a silent, sometimes shameful, reality for many.  

The cultural script around sex suggests that orgasms are the proof of passion; the trophy at the end of a successful sensual encounter. Yet, millions of people are walking away from sex feeling confused, disappointed, or ashamed for not reaching that supposedly mandatory milestone. When the narrative is so orgasm-centric, it makes anyone who struggles to climax feel as though they’re bad at sex, doing something wrong, or worst of all, physically broken.  

But what if the problem isn’t the person, but the pressure? Orgasm is a physical response, yes, but it’s also rooted in one’s psychological state. Stress, self-esteem, trauma, neurodivergence, hormonal changes, and medications can become roadblocks on the journey to cum. Add in a partner who’s driving 100 miles-an-hour or one who gets defensive when you need to change gears, and pleasure can be outweighed by performance. For many, this disconnect can become internalised, leading to a cycle where not climaxing feels like failure, which only makes it harder to relax and enjoy. 

The thing is, orgasm doesn’t have to be the only proof of good sex, and there’s a strange kind of freedom that comes from realising this. Sometimes sex is about being seen. Sometimes it’s about release in a way that has nothing to do with climax. Other times, it’s about laughter, closeness, tenderness, or exploration. If we only define successful sex by the event, or lack thereof, and orgasm, we miss out on everything else it can offer. 

That doesn’t mean we should ignore the orgasm gap. People—especially women and the queer community—are often left behind in sexual encounters, and their pleasure is often treated as optional or mysterious. Conversations about clitoral stimulation, queer sex, or anything outside the “norm” are still seen as fringe, even though they’re completely standard for many people. Pleasure isn’t one-size-fits-all, and neither is cumming. Until we unlearn the idea that sex is only triumphant if someone climaxes, we’ll keep failing to emphasise the kind of intimacy that’s personal, nuanced, and real. 

For those who don’t climax easily or at all, this doesn’t mean settling for less, rather, it means redefining what sexual satisfaction looks like. It might involve solo exploration, open dialogue with partners, or shifting focus from outcome to experience. It’s also worth saying: not climaxing doesn’t mean you’re broken. Your body isn’t a faulty machine. Pleasure can be full, rich, and worthwhile, even if it doesn’t result in the expected out-cum. 

Hence, sex is not a race to the finish. It’s not a test you pass by reaching a very specific end. It’s an ongoing, evolving experience shaped by trust, curiosity, and connection. Orgasms can be wonderful, of course. But when we allow for the possibility that sex can be just as meaningful, and sometimes even more so, without them, we give ourselves the space to feel something beyond physical sensation. And maybe that’s the whole point.