Journalist Mara Altman had accomplished a lot in her twenty-six years, reporting around the world from Bangalore to Bangkok, living in the mountains near Machu Picchu, getting an agent. The one thing she'd never been able to do? Orgasm. Tackling the problem with J-school-alum persistence, Altman met with sexperts and scientists, Betty Dodson and dominatrices, and traveled from S&M basements in Jersey to orgasm communes in California. She details all the highs and lows in Thanks for Coming, a sort of Eat Pray Love for the anorgasmic set. And like the Oprah-sanctioned Love, Altman's book has met a mixed response.
In one sense, it's easy to judge her (as Gawker and others have) as a naïve, self-absorbed innocent who can't reconcile her quest for orgasm with that fact she finds touching herself "mildly disgusting, like a mushy banana."
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But for women who do have trouble orgasming and are afraid to talk about it — or for even the most jaded swinger, who can whistle Dixie while dispensing multiple reverse-no-look handjobs — Altman's sweetness and genuine curiosity could be eye-opening. She lets it all hang out on the page, and it's hard not to be charmed by her sincerity. Hooksexup spoke with Altman, a petite woman who glows the way you might expect someone would, if they'd just spent the last year or so hanging out with sacred whores and vagina enthusiasts. We spoke about science, sex, self-awareness and — of course — the big and little Os. — Nicole Ankowski
How did you decide to make this quest into a book? That's some bravado.
I was thinking about what I could write, and a friend who knew about my orgasm issues suggested I write a book about them. I got so angry I didn't talk to him for a couple days. I was really offended. It just seemed wrong. It wasn't even that I felt embarrassed or anything, it was more just something that was private, you know? But then I started thinking, "Damn, I could kill two birds with one stone. I could figure out this orgasm thing, and I could write a book." And then I was doing it before I realized how embarrassing it was.
Gawker posted a leak of your proposal, and they weren't fans. When you say, "before I realized how embarrassing it was" — what caused it to start being embarrassing?
Everyone kept going, "Wow, you're really brave." At first I was like, "No, I'm just writing a book and figuring it out." That's probably also because my family is so open about sex. So I didn't really think you were so inept if you'd never had an orgasm — I still don't think that. But people's reactions to my contracts, to my mission, started to make me realize that if they were doing it, they'd be really embarrassed. To them it really seemed like going out on a limb.
But not to you?
People's reactions made me realize if they were doing it, they'd be really embarassed.
It didn't. No. It felt really fun and exciting. Like an adventure.
You mention your family a good deal in the book. How did they react?
They were into it. My brothers, one of them didn't want to be talked about at all. And it's not like my parents said, "Talk about us! We love it!" But they were like, "That's what we get for having a writer as a daughter."
You were twenty-six and you'd never had an orgasm. Is this a common problem for women?
It's common, but it's not commonly talked about. If you look at statistics, you'd see that forty percent of women have a "sexual dysfunction." That doesn't necessarily mean they're not having orgasms — it just means that they're unhappy with something in their sex life. Anyone I met who hadn't had an orgasm, it was never actually person-to-person. It was someone who knew someone. People don't admit it. Like, "My ex-girlfriend couldn't have orgasms" or "I have a friend. . ."
Do you think women today are ashamed to admit they can't come, since it's almost a feminist thing, to be sex-positive?
Some of the people I talked to say that during the '60s, '70s, yeah — every woman had to have their orgasm. That made you a woman. It was all about the orgasm. Maybe that's it. But when you're in bed with a guy, you want them to think you're happy with their performance, and so you maybe fake it. I mean — these are things I realized after the fact. [laughs] Because before, when I was with some guy, I'd say, "Just so you know, I've never had an orgasm."
You would tell them that outright? How did people react? Did they take it as a challenge?
I guess I just said it in such a normal way that they were like, "Okay." Don't get all upset. Just so you know: don't expect screaming, clawing.
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