There is a thing called, “Orgasm.”

There is a thing called, "Orgasm."

By Aredvi Azad

My Sexual Liberation story is the day I came across the Farsi Wikipedia page for Orgasm. I was sixteen and had recently learned to access state-blocked websites using sketchy open source VPNs. Before that day, I didn’t know that what I had been experiencing for the nine years prior — mind you, sometimes dozens of times a day — had a name.

I started masturbating when I was seven. Through years of diligent experimentation, I had perfected many techniques in the art of self-pleasure. Yet, I did not know that the rush of pure cosmic energy taking over my body, making me forget all my worries, and presenting a gift of revival-in-void was a common human experience built into the system.

For those nine years, the best explanation I had come up with had to do with cancer. I was sure I had discovered a form of obsessive genital manipulation that was bound to result in the cancer of the brain, genitals, or both, were I unable to quit this goddess-ly addictive curse.

So the day I stumbled upon the definition of orgasm, after carefully reading the mysterious symptoms that had convinced me of my cancer-stricken faith, I collapsed onto my bed for the next hour to digest the news. How did no one in my sixteen years of life told me about this, how on earth were people walking around pretending they didn’t want to be somewhere else orgasming, and what else did I not know about what my body could do, were some of the overwhelming questions occupying my newly-perfectly-normal existence.

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