Orgasms are like...or not

To her sister, orgasms were like being hit on the funny bone, but nicely. Did that make sense? Being hit on the pelvic-spinal funny bone, kind of radiating, but nicely?
She herself would not know, has never had any, or so she thinks.
To her orgasms were probably more like somebody trying to lift a five hundred pound weight. Not nice.
Far as she could tell, making orgasms out as best she could, this was more like what orgasms were. Female ones.
But she supposed they existed, there were such things as orgasms. You know, she has read reports of their existence, seen studies. Kinsey, Alfred Kinsey. Masters and Johnson. God, Cosmo was full of them.
You couldn't turn a page without...
Oh? Lifting five hundred pound weights? An interesting concept, and he was interested.
'Most of us can't lift five hundred pound weights,' she went on. 'And for those of us who can, is it worth it? Do you want to do it? I mean, lift five hundred pounds?'
Put that way, he conceded, this did not seem much like fun.
You watched these Olympic weightlifters on TV, she continued. Especially the extra heavyweights, she thought they called them. Were they having fun?
But at least...one, two, three. And all over. The Olympic weightlifter did or didn't.
One, two, three...seconds. Not five, ten, fifteen...minutes. More even, thirty, maybe forty...minutes. Trying to have an orgasm, trying to lift a weight too much.
Lifting heavy weights and possible orgasmic dysfunction. First he'd heard it put this way, and it didn't sound all that implausible.