The female ORGASM on Prozac

W

e are chronically misinformed when it 
comes to female pleasure — where it hap-

pens, why it happens and how. At times, even the 
scientific and research communities are stumped 
on the evolutionary purpose behind the female 
orgasm: while some studies point at a procreating 
advantage prior to ovulating periods for women 
who orgasm, no firm claim can yet be made. 
Female orgasms, especially in contrast to male 
orgasms, are so often mystified that it becomes a 
rarity, or a surprise, when they do happen. 

As Linda Geddes wrote in a 2015 BBC article 

“The Mystery of the Female Orgasm,” “Pressed or 
caressed the right way, a woman can be transport-
ed to such ecstasy, that for a few seconds, the rest 
of the world ceases to exist. But get it wrong and 
pain, frustration, or dull nothingness can ensue. 
It’s a stark contrast to a man’s experience; so long 
as they can get an erection, a few minutes of vigor-
ous stimulation generally results in ejaculation.” 

Let’s break it down even further. Merriam 

Webster offers it plainly — the female orgasm is 
“the rapid pleasurable release of neuromuscu-
lar tensions at the height of sexual arousal that is 
usually accompanied by the ejaculation of semen 
in the male and by vaginal contractions in the 
female”. But do we require this for sexual satisfac-
tion? I wish Merriam Webster could also answer 
this. 

There is research that hints at more relational 

ideas behind women’s orgasms and their purpose 
in 21st-century relationships. American psycholo-
gist Diana Fleischman stated in her 2016 report 
“An Evolutionary Behaviorist Perspective on 
Orgasm” that, “We (humans) have evolved to use 
orgasm and sexual arousal to shape one another’s 
behavior, and orgasm serves as a signal to another 
person of devotion, vulnerability, and malleability, 
which is, in itself, reinforcing.”

Devotion? Archetypal college sex is anything 

but devoted. But Fleischmann is onto some-
thing when she describes orgasm as an enforcer 
of “adaptive behavioral ends.”We are, after all, 
encouraged to bookend hookups with orgasm. 
But is that really the point? Is it actually enjoyable? 
Who’s to say?

***
O

n any given campus, sexual experimenta-
tion runs rampant — it’s part of 
the 

college brand, à la “Animal House,” 
“Superbad” or “Neighbors”: out-
of-control parties, drunk 
destruction, sloppy sex. 
As a freshman, this was 
something you had to expe-
rience in order to feel like you 
were “doing it right.” 

My freshman year at the University 

of Michigan, I took a seminar called Soci-
ology of the Family. We covered everything 
from dating to divorce, parenthood to unpaid 
labor, gender roles to domestic work. One of our 
assigned readings was Lisa Wade’s “American 
Hookup: The New Culture of Sex on Campus.” 
The book dives into a history of sexuality, higher 
education and the risks and rewards of hookup 

culture — offering pointed insights as to where 
we’re headed. I’ll admit that I had initially fig-
ured this book to be another out-of-touch, flimsy 
report on how heartlessly our generation has 
come to regard sex and relationships. But it was 
surprisingly exact.Because Wade recruited actu-
al college students to give detailed and relatively 
anonymous reports of their sex lives, the book 
thrums with truth. 

Of the scarily accurate descriptions Wade 

offers, she elaborates on the party experience 
most precisely. Chapter 1 begins with a lurid 
description of two women getting ready in their 
dorm room: “The goal is to look ‘fuckable,’ Miran-
da said, her voice buzzing with excitement. She 
and her roommate Ruby were tearing through 
their tiny closets, collecting a pile of ‘provocative’ 
items to consider wearing to that night’s party. 
The theme was ‘burlesque,’ so they were going 
for a classy stripper vibe ... Miranda plumped her 
breasts and contemplated her outfit, a black crop 
top and a cherry red skirt with a zipper running 
down the front. She unzipped it a bit from the bot-
tom and, then, a bit more.”

Throughout the rest of the book, Wade covers 

everything from the history of hookups to frater-
nity culture to attractiveness hierarchies to sexual 
assault to relationship woes to female and male 
orgasms. Wade noted of orgasms, “In masturba-
tion, orgasms come easily and quickly to both 
sexes; on average, each requires just four efficient 
minutes to reach climax. Even women who never 
have orgasms with male partners often do regu-
larly when they’re alone.”

She continued, “If hookup culture has an 

orgasm gap—and it does—then the question isn’t 
what might be wrong with women’s bodies, but 
the extent to which the female orgasm is made a 
priority.”

It is through hookup cul-

ture that sex becomes rela-
tively lawless — and by 
lawless, I mean social-
ly lawless. Gone are 
the rules that require 
a least a few dates 
first, gone are the 
rules that you even 
have to know them 
before you step into the 
club, the bar, the 

party. Sex is 

read-

ily 
available 
and 
eas-

ily acces-

sible to most. For those who seek convenience, it 
is distinctly possible to download any number of 
apps in the morning, and by nighttime, have sex. 
Sex has, in this way, become cheap. 

I’m not moralizing here, or at least not inten-

tionally — but as I type this, Steve Lacy’s “N Side” 
seeps from my speakers and I’m wondering what 
the point of sex is. Is it to prove we are wanted, 
even if briefly? Is it, as Charles Bukowski might 
put it, “flesh searching for more than flesh?” Is it 
love? I don’t know, and I doubt I ever will. And I 
should probably stop reading Charles Bukowksi. 

***
A

dd on Prozac, or Zoloft, or Xanax, or Lexa-
pro or any of the other hundreds of drugs 

prescribed each year to American women aimed 
at combating depression and anxiety, and the 
female orgasm becomes that much trickier to 
untangle. Among the primary side effects of anti-
depressants is its impact on sexual function — one 
Harvard Health Publishing article summarized 
that these aforementioned drugs can “make it 
difficult to become aroused, sustain arousal, and 
reach orgasm.”

It is these articles and their statistics that swim 

around my head when I make the trek to CVS to 
pick up my Prozac refill. At the counter, I give my 
name, birthdate, repeat my last name and its spell-
ing, sign my name, shake my head no when asked 
if I have any questions about the medication, mar-
vel at the sheer length of the pharmacist’s nails as 
she hammers this information into the keyboard. 
I pay the $4 copay, she staples the standard-issue, 
five-page leaflet of warnings and potential side 
effects to my little brown bag, and I’m off. 

The literature of these advisory leaflets has 

always been absurdly entertaining: Remem-
ber that this drug has been prescribed to you 
because your doctor has judged that the benefit 
to you is greater than the risk of side effects. 

Curiously enough, all that is mentioned of 

side effects involving sex is: sexual prob-
lems. I suppose it’s all-encompassing! 

There’s an article in The 

Cut titled “Treating My 
Anxiety Made My Sex 

Life Worse”. In it, author 
Rae Nudson explained 
that of the reactions of her 

Lexapro prescription, “’sexu-
al side effects’ can refer to 

a wide variety of 

issues. 

It 

can 

mean 

low libi-

do, or it can 

mean 
problems with 

erections and lubrication, expe-

riencing less pleasure, or tak-

ing longer to orgasm than 

it used to. Sometimes it 

means that you still have the desire to have sex, 
but you don’t have the ability to orgasm at all.”

So then, how does sex change for women 

(and men) who can’t climax on their respective 
medication? What is sex without climax? What 
is climax? Merriam-Webster saves me yet again: 
English Language Learners Definition of climax 
(Entry 1 of 2) :

“the most intense point of sexual pleasure: 

ORGASM.”

The most intense point of sexual pleasure. So 

maybe orgasm doesn’t have to translate exactly 
to a “rapid pleasurable release of neuromuscu-
lar tensions at the height of sexual arousal that 
is usually accompanied by the ejaculation of 
semen in the male and by vaginal contractions in 
the female. Perhaps orgasm can be restructured 
to mean the very moment you are kissed, or the 
very moment you are kissed at that very place. 
The perfect position. I don’t know if I actually 
believe this, or if it’s just another thought experi-
ment told to play — but that’s why I employ the 
word perhaps. 

Restructuring our idea of sex so that there is 

less pressure put on climaxing can make sex more 
enjoyable, and for everyone. Enjoyable sex, most 
often, is sex with someone you are comfortable 
with, someone you care for. Hooking up, by con-
trast, is enjoyable in the way that a roller coaster 
ride is enjoyable — however thrilling, you will 
probably never go on that ride again, and you will 
also probably never again feel the exact thrill of 
riding it the first time. And it’s usually over in less 
than a few minutes.

Enjoyable sex is sex that understands that 

needs differ. Enjoyable sex is, to put it tritely, elec-
trifying. Your nerves fray. You feel that you can 
look into their eyes. There is, surely, pleasure. 

And pleasure, well pleasure is a good deal eas-

ier to achieve by virtue of its ambiguity. Pleasure 
can last for more than 30, or 40, seconds. Plea-
sure can live in you as long as you can remem-
ber it. Pleasure is tracing your fingers on the soft 
outline of somebody’s lips, especially if they are 
red from the cold of walking over to your house. 
Pleasure is meeting somebody’s line of sight and 
having the rare confidence to hold it. Pleasure 

is touching your pool-pruned hands to some-

body’s shoulders or raking through their 
brown-when-wet hair in the shower. Plea-
sure is kissing somebody’s ear because you 
know they love it when you do that. Plea-

sure is kissing somebody’s ear because you love 
to do that. Pleasure is bottles and tubes clanging 
over on the bathroom countertop because they 
were in the way. Pleasure is not finishing the 
movie. Pleasure is lifting up a pale violet dress, 
but just above the hips and just after everyone 
has gone to bed. Pleasure is the reliably warm 
nape of your neck, that perfect blue shirt. 

Pleasure is touch but it is also what comes 

before touch. Pleasure is patient. If you are a 
woman, or someone on antidepressants, and you 
find it difficult to enjoy what we are so often told 
we should be enjoying — I encourage you to think 
less about climaxing and more about pleasure.

Wednesday, December 8, 2021 // The Statement — 4

BY TAYLOR SCHOTT, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

Illustration by Megan Young
Page Design by Sarah Chung 

& Brittany Bowman

