The concept of ‘foreplay’ is doomed to extinction. An ‘erotic encounter’ is another thing entirely

Is foreplay even important today?

And I would ask: what is foreplay for?

For sex, for closeness.

Of course, I should stick to the various classifications and concepts that exist in sexology, but getting ahead of the changes – because I firmly believe they will happen – I believe that the concept of foreplay is becoming outdated, one might say it is becoming an old-fashioned term. It is actually doomed to extinction.

Why?

Because it devalues what goes into sex. It boils it down to experiencing an orgasm during sexual intercourse. Everything but penetration becomes just foreplay ‘to’ in this approach. Unfortunately, the notion that foreplay is a prelude to sex has been imprinted in both men and women equally. Intercourse and orgasm experienced this way can be wonderful, of course, but sex is so much more. Focusing on the goal rather than on what happens between people causes a lot of disappointment and misunderstanding.

Are you offended by the word ‘play’?

I focused on the prefix ‘fore’, but yes, you can dislike the ‘play’ as well. Because what does that have to do with contact, with communication and intimacy, which should be based on authenticity, on not being ashamed of each other, on not having to fake anything, including orgasm? I’m all for the term ‘encounter’ rather than ‘play’, ‘erotic’ instead of ‘fore’.

I think people are becoming more aware, more in touch with their feelings, and they don’t want to pretend, to play someone they’re not. Over the past year, more and more men who want to get in touch with their universally human ‘soft part’ have begun to come to my office. I don’t know, maybe it’s because of the pandemic, and people having had more time to confront their feelings and look into themselves. On the one hand, many couples are tired of each other’s presence; on the other hand, such pandemic detention fosters attentiveness to what one is feeling.

Have these men looked at themselves and changed their perspective?

Exactly. No longer do ejaculation, orgasm, and frictional movements count. Men discover this ‘soft part’ in themselves, i.e. emotions and the need to connect through bodily intimacy. But there’s also an ever-living critical part of them that prompts whispers that mock them in a sexist way.

And what do these whispers say?

‘You have to prove yourself, be ready to penetrate at all times’. And the fact that when a man needs caressing, it’s seen as princessy, unmanly. It triggers shame.

But petting is nice for both men and women.

Of course. I’m showing the cultural determinants now. And I can’t help but refer to Agnieszka Szpila’s ‘Heksy’, which ridiculously describes what happens when a man ‘must always be ready’. I can confirm that what is ‘soft and creeping’ is gaining rationale in both genders. It no longer has to be foreplay reserved for women.

I would sum it up like this: I meet more and more men who don’t want to be exclusively ‘ready’, they want tenderness, freedom. And I could say the same about women: they need change too. Therefore, I would rather the term ‘foreplay’ was dropped. It’s an outdated way of thinking.

So what should you call it? Caressing, playing?

I suggested an ‘erotic encounter’, in which the term ‘play’ would fit perfectly. When we play together, we create a very different atmosphere than in the case of a game and we’re not being completely honest. The rules of the game are usually not set by us and we have to adapt to them. In playing, we can make these rules ourselves, and we can discuss them creatively. This is associated with very important concepts, positive sexuality and consensuality, assent. Sexual play is all about pleasure, it can include orgasm, but it can be without it. Orgasm need not be an end in itself. People can have an orgasm but not necessarily be satisfied with a relationship focused on efficiency, success, result. Conversely, they don’t need to have an orgasm, but to experience sex that is pure pleasure, bliss, a sense of fulfilment, sometimes far beyond a simple orgasm. I am referring to the pleasure obtained in both slow sex and BDSM relationships. This kind of pleasure can be experienced with someone we know well, but it is not a prerequisite. This is possible when we have no patterns, we have space to open up, trust. That is, we talk about what we want to play, what we want to play for, and if there is agreement.

If we’re talking about the notion of foreplay being outdated, then I guess our whole thinking about sex can be anachronistic too. Those questions that women sometimes hear: ‘Did you come?’. I read a story of a girl who responded: ‘Yes’, because when she said: ‘No, but it was very good’, her partner felt he hadn’t managed. I think that in long-term, sincere relationships, one party knows that the other doesn’t need to reach orgasm to feel fulfilled. That an erotic encounter itself can bring fun.

It does if you don’t act. If you do not pretend to be satisfied. That’s why many people don’t like New Year’s Eve – they pretend to have a good time because that’s what the situation demands of them. And it can be the same with sex. That’s why consensus is important.

Getting along?

Something that opens up new paths of connection between people is the acceptance that sex is a form of communication. It is worth asking yourself how two people communicate with each other. To communicate, after all, we need to know what we want to communicate, and often we don’t. And this applies to both men and women. To communicate, it is advisable to get to know each other at every point in the relationship. Just because we met someone when they were 25 doesn’t mean we know them forever. A lot changes in the successive phases of life, we go through different transformations, and not necessarily at the same moment in time. That’s why communication is so important, including erotic communication.

So we can still be new to each other, seem undiscovered?

Yes, and that is very optimistic. It offers hope that sex in long-term relationships can be interesting and appealing, provided we are aware of the changes. Also those occurring within us. Because if we are interested in change in ourselves, chances are we will also be interested in change in our loved one.

‘After all, I already know everything about him, I know all his behaviours, his tricks, what will he surprise me with?’, we often think.

People who live in a pattern, a routine, become insensitive to change. And then there is a good chance that our unmet needs, longings, and appetite for romance will flare up. Suddenly we find that some person is fascinated by us and sees what our partner doesn’t see, or even what we ourselves don’t see.

And what’s new about us, after all, can be discovered by our regular partner.

This would be good. I am incredibly moved by men, especially those of the older generation, who are ready for change, are open to it, and are intrigued by it. What they discover often goes against what they were taught, what they built their self-worth, their sense of masculinity on. Workshops on male sexuality, where participants explore their emotional aspects, are becoming increasingly popular.

This usually involves consistency between what you think and what you feel. Because the upbringing in traditional masculinity was an upbringing to separate thinking from feeling, to separate sexual behaviour from layers of tenderness and intimacy. The instrumental treatment of the body inherent in our mass culture – the male as a tool, the female as an object – does its job. This is an area of thinking about sexuality ripe for tremendous change. For now, far too often it is a source of suffering, a sense of isolation, a lack of understanding, a bodily freeze. I’m also moved by mature women who don’t allow themselves to be squeezed into the pattern of the invisible woman, and who are ready to change, to break the pattern. And those who do not expect the man to be responsible for – to use the old nomenclature – foreplay, who do not shift the responsibility for the quality of sex solely to him. That also comes from outdated patterns.

From the fact that ‘he has to ask you to dance’.

And that assumes that we can’t initiate play, be creative. And yet, when we play, we can make agreements: you make up the rules now, and next time I will.

To avoid situations in which there’s always one person and then the blame for failed intercourse falls on that person.

This is a road leading to nowhere. Shifting responsibility results in us not being in touch with one another. We don’t experience ourselves, we don’t know our boundaries or our needs. And men are overloaded, confused and stressed. What’s all this for?

By assuming that foreplay should be the man’s responsibility, we become objects of that play, not subjects, and we treat our bodies as such. When we can’t be active in play, we’re not engaged, we have no sense of agency and we stop wanting to do it.

We need to openly experiment, to try things out: why I don’t like this, or maybe it’s only at this moment that I don’t like it, but at another time it’s fine, maybe there’s something about the other person’s behaviour that blocks me? Also anachronistic is the attitude that it is only women who need foreplay, that it is more important to them.

We talk about what would bring sexual pleasure. We already know that it’s communication. But we rarely talk about sex before sex – what we would like, what we would not like to do. We are ashamed, afraid of our partner’s reaction.

Setting boundaries can be difficult for some people, but it’s basically a requirement for enjoyable sex. There are women, but also men, who have trouble saying no to sex, saying it straight: ‘I don’t feel like it today’, or those who need a lot more trust and openness to be able to want it.

And this is absolutely democratic, regardless of age, gender, orientation: in this communication, erotic play, first of all, includes attention to our own needs and to the needs of the other person.

There is evidence that women are very attracted by men who are able to talk about sex and create space for that conversation. In this way, they show that they are in touch with themselves, with this ‘soft side’. That is, in physical intimacy with them there will be a lot more room for trust and spontaneity, without judgement. The same will be true for a woman who is comfortable with her physicality, relaxed and cooperative – it will be much easier to play or communicate with her. This will be a woman who knows herself, knows what her physicality is to her and that she can experience pleasure through it.

So just talking is a pretty good prelude to sex?

This is absolutely what would count as the former foreplay, and it really is good communication based on setting boundaries and expressing needs. We really don’t need to feel someone’s hand on our breasts or in our panties to say ‘no’ when we don’t want to do it. Fortunately, #MeToo campaigns support us in recognising our feelings and setting clear boundaries much earlier. Women of my generation were denied such rights, their refusals were ridiculed and disregarded, and no one taught us this. If we communicate clearly in an erotic encounter, this situation will not happen, because in the flirting phase we have already discussed it. For example, if we say we don’t want a one night stand – we’re at a stage in life where we want to build a relationship and we’re tired of dating on Tinder because it doesn’t make sense to us. And we would like to enter into a sexual relationship with someone who thinks the same way. Or we’re just heartbroken, experiencing total destruction, and don’t want sex for now. We may even feel something different – we may just want sexual adventure and nothing more. Sure, communication is needed, and it can be very sexual, especially if we meet someone who is open, interested, and ready to hear us out.

It used to be thought that talking about sex strips it of mystery, surprise, atmosphere, ambience, that if we sit down and talk about it, it might not work, because it will reduce tension.

This is an extremely harmful model that promotes misunderstanding and abuse. I associate it with the violent saying that when a woman says ‘no’ she means ‘maybe’ and when she says ‘maybe’ she means ‘yes’. No means no! Whether said by either a woman or a man. And the answer ‘maybe’ is an encouragement to keep talking.

In addition, tension is often confused with desire and excitement. And yet, they are not the same thing. When we talk about tension, I have these associations with the Catholic vision of Polish sexuality. Why do I need to be tense? This tension-based concept of desire is very instrumental – I must have tension in me to seek to discharge it in a sexual way. The humanistic narrative is not about tension, it is about joy, closeness, and relaxation together. Because where there is fun, there is pleasure.

In this understanding, excitement becomes freedom to experience different emotions. In fact, for many of us, it’s not about releasing tension, it’s about discovering cool spaces within ourselves.

But many people don’t have that kind of freedom in them, they are tense in sex.

This is the result of a cultural packet of prohibitions and ideas about what a woman and a man are supposed to be like: that you have to prove yourself, always be ready, or that you have to wait for the initiative and ‘look nice’, etc. No wonder we are afraid of judgement, we are tense and we cannot be authentic. Communication, not only in sex but also in life, is the way to change that. Where there is a safe space for laughter, non-judgement, fun, that’s where the space for cool sex is created. If we know how to be with each other in conversation, whether it be in difficult moments or while boating or playing ‘Dixit’ or badminton, chances are we know how to communicate in sex.

It’s hard to communicate erotically if we don’t know how to have fun with each other: playing together, hiking, playing sports, laughing at anything. Because if we are constantly tense in some roles, terribly busy, do not have time for fun and relaxation, we cannot assume that we will be in touch with our partner, authentic in sex. It is also important whether we have autonomy, a kind of separateness, our own world, which can be interesting for our partner.

Experienced couples therapist Esther Perel recounted that when she asks a question during public speaking engagements about what excites people in stable relationships, the response is that it’s a kind of separateness, the fact that we see the other person genuinely involved in something. This can be appealing and holds the promise of successful erotic play based on passion.

But there is no erotic play without touch.

It’s a specific type of communication because it involves communicating through the body. It is strongly related to how we perceive ourselves, because only we can really teach another person our physicality. We are the ones who know under what circumstances we feel excitement and under what circumstances we withdraw. There are no generalisations, no rules, because we are unique. Seriously. To say that men and women have certain defined places is monstrously simplistic and unreliable. A myriad of conditions, including those of childhood, influence what kind of touch we enjoy. It can make a difference, for example, if someone wrote on our backs as we fell asleep – mum, grandma or dad. If the child fell asleep at mum’s side between her breasts, if you were touched in certain ways as a child. The body, the brain remember pleasurable sensory experiences such as a safe hug, going into the water, lying on moss, self-love. So this exploration of the body will be key to being able to communicate with your partner.

In therapy, one sometimes begins by practising mindfulness of various sensory experiences through the body, checking to see which sensations are actually pleasurable to us. This is sometimes difficult and not obvious because we are often unable to respect our bodies, to listen to them, to think of them with gratitude, to take care of our health, to give ourselves permission to enjoy ourselves. Therefore, it is important for us to try, to experience, to test our bodies gradually, to learn what gives us sexual pleasure. A person who has never learned about her body before, and who tries to stimulate her clitoris alone in the presence of a partner, can feel overwhelmed.

How do we discover what makes us feel good?

It can be the obvious things related to the gradual reduction of distance, it can be cuddling, fondling, pressing, or testing which type of touch is physically more stimulating – the kind that is firm, strong, or just stroking the skin surface or even non-existent touch, being only a foreshadowing of touch. These are extremely different needs, depending on different situations and where we are in life. This can also apply to how we like to kiss: either we like something or we don’t.

Only 15% of women feel desire on their own, spontaneously; more than 30% have only responsive desire – which occurs as a result of erotic stimulation. But for it to occur, we need to know what kind of physical contact we like. This is revolutionary in that we were previously taught that we must first desire in order to enter into a sexual relationship. Or maybe just knowing how we like to achieve pleasure is enough.

‘Foreplay’, a term that is now obsolete, assumed that we were supposed to have certain expectations of each other that stemmed from cultural roles.

It used to be said that a man meets a woman to soften his heart. This is not a woman’s role. It is a woman’s job to get in touch with her physicality, because culture often deprives us of that contact.

And a man’s job?

The job of a man in our culture is to get in touch with his sensibilities. Then real change will occur. And a chance for a deeper, erotic encounter.

Alicja Długołęcka – psychotherapist, sex educator, author of books and articles in the field of psychosexual education, among others the monograph ‘Edukacja seksualna’ [Sexual Education] or the guide ‘Zwykła książka o tym, skąd się biorą dzieci’ [A simple book about where babies come from]. She works at the Lew-Starowicz Therapy Centre

Author: Monika Tutak - Goll

Illustration: Magdalena Sawicka

The text was published in „Wysokie Obcasy” a magazine of „Gazeta Wyborcza” on 2 April 2022