Closing the Orgasm Gap: Why Female Pleasure is Not Optional in the Philippines

Slow is not a word that Via* would ever use to describe herself. The 33-year-old entrepreneur thrives on deadlines and crosses off her to-do list with purpose, determination, and a sense of satisfaction. She’s the kind of woman who gets things done. But in the bedroom, slow was how her boyfriend described her.

“He would almost always come first. Most times, he would be too tired to help me finish,” shares Via.

He chalked it up to Via being “matagal.” The label stung, landing like blame and self-doubt. During the three years they were together, their sex life carried an undercurrent that said her boyfriend’s orgasms were the main event—and hers were just a bonus round.

What is the orgasm gap?

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Via’s frustration confirms the findings of a 2024 study published in Sexual Medicine conducted by researchers at The Kinsey Institute, the leading US center for sex research, and dating site match.com. 

In a survey conducted among 24,000 single Americans aged 18 to 100, over half of heterosexual women do not reach an orgasm during sex. Men, on the other hand, hit the home run 70 to 85 percent of the time.   

The difference in the number of orgasms men and women report during heterosexual sex is the orgasm gap. Study after study confirms a pattern of straight men reaching The Big O, while women are all too often left with nothing more than a frustrated whimper of an “Oh”.

And while the orgasm gap has been measured and dissected in countless Western studies, in the Philippines, there’s little formal data. However, a survey by condom manufacturer Durex shared that about 22 percent of Filipino women do not orgasm every time they have sex, while 27 percent reported faking an orgasm with a partner. These local numbers indicate that Via isn’t the only one who is sexually unfulfilled and left wanting more in the bedroom after sex.  

Outside of surveys, online chat groups and forums serve as a marketplace for all kinds of intimate sentiment, resembling an in between of an all-out confessional box and a reserved inquiry chamber. 

On one of these forums, one woman admitted that in seven years of marriage, she had never once reached orgasm with her husband. “He, on the other hand, experiences plenty,” she wrote. “And I’m jealous. I’ve been frustrated for a very long time. ” 

She wondered what she was missing, but also felt conflicted. Her research, she said, called for suggestions to try masturbation, which clashed with her Catholic upbringing. 

The thread she started exploded with more than 200 replies of solidarity and straightforward advice. “There’s nothing wrong with self-service,” one user wrote back, encouraging her to experiment with her fingers or a sex toy as a solution. Others urged her to take the lead by getting on top. And then came the rallying cry from dozens of women who knew exactly what she needed: “Let him eat you.”

Other chat threads read like confessionals where women say their partners finish quickly, their pleasure is sidelined or ignored, but they squirm at the thought of communicating what they want because it feels “too demanding.” Some don’t even know how to start. 

So while many women know they want their orgasm to be the final destination, they don’t know how to get there and some of their partners aren’t enthusiastic about helping them figure out the directions.

The cultural roots of female pleasure suppression in the Philippines

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“Women are socially conditioned not to recognize our desires,” says Sabrina Gacad, assistant professor at the Department of Women and Gender Studies at the University of the Philippines about these online conversations. 

That social conditioning, she explains, starts early with subtle reminders from elders not to sit with our legs apart and extends to how we observe men and women do relationships. But there is an opposite conditioning for men. Male cousins and brothers brag about their sexual prowess in raunchy conversations that are meant to be overheard. Uncles and fathers with mistresses are given a badge of honor, and plus points for virility for every child they have with them. 

This cultural wiring shapes and influences how women show up in the bedroom.

“We don’t grow up thinking our pleasure matters, so when it’s absent, we often don’t even name it as a problem,” Gacad says. As for faking it? “Filipino women are taught to prioritize other people’s comfort over our own, and this extends to protecting men from feeling inadequate—especially in the bedroom.”

And that, she argues, is why the orgasm gap is not just about the bedroom—it’s about equality. When a partner treats your orgasm as optional, Gacad says, “it reflects a bigger message: Your pleasure is negotiable.” 

Gacad, however, cautions against getting caught in the pressure brought by an environment of  hypersexuality. The listicles, the TikTok videos, and the endless stream of content about the ecstasy and liberation that comes with sexual release can make any woman believe that an orgasm is hers to enjoy if she just champions her right to have one. 

What this content glosses over is the unease of a sexual novice, one who is just starting to become curious about her body and the sensations that run through it—or don’t—when she is at her most raw and vulnerable.

“The first hurdle we have to overcome is our own discomfort. Especially for Filipino women who are just starting to break that boundary imposed by society that sex is wrong, sex is dirty,” says Gacad.

Like the anonymous woman who turned to an online chat group to seek advice about how to finally have an orgasm with her husband, the only man she had ever slept with, Gacad says that “until we address the discomfort of talking about pleasure, no one will ever close the gap. The work isn’t only physical, it’s dismantling the shame. Having the language to express your desires, even with close friends or even online, is a huge step forward.” 

Cultural counterprogramming: the power of representation

Outside social media videos or listicles enumerating ways to get the job done, romance novels might be another way for women to ease into their curiosity about desire.  

Mina Esguerra, romance novel writer, says that in her Romance Class community, authors write books where women don’t just have sex. They have orgasms. Always. The sex is safe (with condoms explicitly mentioned) and the pleasure is mutual, often on the woman’s terms. “It was an intentional editorial choice,” Esguerra says. “These stories told women that pleasure was normal, that they didn’t need permission for it, and they weren’t punished for it.”

Esguerra’s own fiction carries this intentionality forward. In That Kind of Guy, a character named Julie waits eleven months into her relationship to have sex. The first time is underwhelming. Her boyfriend finishes quickly, reassures her it will get better, and offers another round—she says she’s fine. Later, she realizes it wasn’t shyness, but conditioning. She didn’t see her pleasure as important enough to insist on. Only when they reunite and talk openly about it does the dynamic shift, and Julie finally experiences what she had imagined.

Romance novels can’t replace sex education, Esguerra insists. However, they can act as cultural counterprogramming, slipping stories of attentive partners and explicit communication into a landscape where real-life conversations are still rare. “Sometimes, all it takes is seeing that this is okay,” she says. “And then a woman goes and does it.”

How to close the gap: sexual anatomy, self-exploration, and compatibility

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One person who knows exactly what she wants in bed and is unafraid to go after it is dominatrix Mistress Joyen. 

For her, closing the gap means reorienting sex toward mutual pleasure. Reaching the Big O means rethinking of what we know as technique: slowing down, communicating openly, understanding anatomy, and valuing connection. “Female pleasure isn’t elusive. It simply demands presence, intention, and the willingness to explore,” says Mistress Joyen. “Start with knowing your body. Learn your anatomy, masturbate, figure out what excites you and what doesn’t. Curiosity is key.”

For Mari*, 35, a digital marketing consultant, that curiosity has been non-negotiable. Most of the time, she says, she feels sexually fulfilled by her partners, but that’s by design. She begins relationships with what she calls a “compatibility test” that includes flirty banter, sexting, swapping fantasies, and laying out kinks and boundaries before emotions cloud judgment. 

“I’m picky. If you can’t ride my freak early on, it won’t work out. I need mental stimulation before anything physical. Make me fantasize about you. I enjoy the pining and the slow burn.” That intentional vetting means she usually lands with partners who match her drive and imagination in bed.

But she’s also seen the other side of the orgasm gap. Once, she dated a man her friends swore was perfect: good on paper, kind, dependable. “Being nice should be the bare minimum,” she says flatly. Their sex life, however, was a dead end. She couldn’t orgasm, her body tensed, and she developed recurring urinary tract infections. “Sex felt like a duty. And I wasn’t even in an arranged marriage!” she laughs. She left, choosing herself and her own pleasure.

Why mutual pleasure and open sexual communication close the orgasm gap

Via, who left her boyfriend who was too tired to let her finish, is now with someone who refuses to come before she does.

“Sometimes it can’t be helped, but he’s vocal about wanting me to come first. He asks if I like what he’s doing,” Via says.

Still, asking outright doesn’t always come easy. She is still embarrassed to say what she wants, but has found creative ways to loosen up. “A little liquor helps loosen me up. And if I can’t say it, I’ll use my hands—point to where I want to be touched, or do it myself and guide him.”

For her, closing the orgasm gap isn’t a solo project. “Men need to be open to these conversations, too. Some of my friends say their boyfriends ‘hear them,’ but don’t really ‘listen’ when it comes to reaching their orgasm. Some guys feel like it’s emasculating to hear what their partner needs.”

If there’s one thing Via wants other women to know, it’s that they’re not broken. “I don’t want other women to feel the frustration I had with my ex. Like it was my fault I couldn’t orgasm. I can do it myself, and that’s not dirty. I wish more Filipino women were open to self-gratification. Start with playing some sexy music.”

*names have been changed at the request of the interviewee