In Dating, “Foreplay” Was My Only Strategic Advantage

In a recent story, Long After the Thrill tells of how a male friend of hers told her that he's "not really a foreplay kind of guy":

He's 37 years old and claims that's the dating climate. I razzed him a bit. "Guess that's why I tend to go for the older men. They know how to take their time."

Instead of being humbled (at all!) he said, and I quote, "Nah, I'm getting off and I'm on my way". And then he wonders why he can't find a partner.

"I'm Not Really a Foreplay Kind of Guy" Non-members click here to read the full article for free.

As a straight man myself, it boggles my mind how there are still men who think this way. Because back in the days when I'd never had a girlfriend, and dating felt like a game that was hopelessly rigged against me, learning that most women can't climax from penile penetration alone felt like being thrown a lifeline.

(By the way, I still see hetero dating as a rigged game — rigged against all men and women of good will who just want to be themselves and feel something real with another person. I'm happy to report that there's an alternative.)

It was in a class at university.

That's when I first learned that most women need more than just "the big D". I was thunderstruck — and not in a good way (at first). My initial thoughts were: "Are you kidding me?! It's bad enough that women don't care for the way cocks & balls look. But now you're telling me that a cock isn't even enough to make a woman come?! Bloody Hell!!" (Apparently, in that moment, my inner monologue was British. I'm as surprised as you.)

But after sitting with this earthshattering realization for a while, I came to see it as an opportunity. I was like an entrepreneur who recognized that his target demographic needed and deserved a better product than what was currently available.

Why did this feel like I'd been handed a lifeline? I was 19 years old and had never had a girlfriend.

Back in high school, I'd asked a few girls out, and they'd all said no. At the time, I was able to chalk it up to the fact that it was a small school and I had a firmly established reputation as a weird loner who never fit in. (My only real friend at the time was a girl in my class who had a knack for recognizing and befriending good-natured misfits. She and I are still good friends to this day. And no, she's not one of my female friends who became "more than friends".)

I'd told myself, "University will be different. No one there will know me as that weird loner who doesn't fit in, and I'll be able to make a fresh start." But now, I was in my second year of university, and so far, the only woman who'd given me any signs of interest was needy and emotionally abusive. (No thank you.) I could no longer comfort myself with the excuse I had from high school, and it felt like the odds were hopelessly stacked against me.

I knew that I was sweet-natured and loving.

But I was also painfully aware that those alone wouldn't cut it. Don't get me wrong: I never thought being a jerk was the answer. There had been boys at my high school who were genuinely good guys and were able to get girlfriends. But those boys were much better than me at playing the game of "being a man".

For example, they were all better than me at sports. With hard work and practice, I probably could've marginally improved my skills in at least one sport, but my heart just wasn't in it. When I was a kid, I enjoyed physical games like Capture the Flag. But "prestige" sports like baseball, basketball, and the two types of football (the American version, and the one Americans call "soccer")? Those felt like mandatory rituals in the Cult of Masculinity — a cult that no one had ever asked me or any other boy if we wanted to sign up for.

And so I'd grown up with a deeply ingrained belief that I would never be — or be seen as — a "real man".

I could feel that I had no mojo (or "rizz", to use the Gen Z term). Nor did I have any swagger. (Incidentally, I still don't have swagger. My jam is quiet confidence radiating warmth, and I own it.) And I knew I was competing against guys who'd already dated — and slept with — girls and/or women. Even back then (the early 1990s), lack of dating and sexual experience wasn't exactly considered a good look for a man.

It's thus no wonder that my head was full of self-talk along the lines of:

You having the nerve to ask a woman out is like a featherweight boxer having the nerve to step into the ring with a heavyweight; you're just gonna embarrass yourself.

That brings us to my fateful discovery that a pussy needs love from other sources besides a cock. (I was actually grateful to have learned this when I was still a virgin, as that meant my ignorance up to that point hadn't resulted in any girls or women being disappointed in bed — and I'd be able to make sure it never would!)

Once I got over the initial disillusionment…

I realized: this could be the edge I need! It might be my one and only edge, but at least it's something. Something I can point to and say to myself:

That's what gives me the right to have the nerve to ask a woman out.

It was the shot of confidence I needed to pick myself up off the bench and put myself into the game of dating. (To be clear, I was never going to proposition a woman by telling her how much I'm into "foreplay". In fact, I wasn't even looking for casual sex. I was interested in a deeper, more sustained connection. "Foreplay" was only my edge in that it gave me a concrete reason to believe in myself.)

As those of you who've followed my writing up to now know, my time on the dating court did not go well: rejection after rejection after rejection. For a while, it seemed like the disempowering self-talk in my head had been right along. Fortunately, that wasn't the end of the story: I ended up discovering I didn't actually need dating in order to get into hot, passionate, romantic relationships with women.

But I don't think I ever would've discovered that wondrous land beyond dating if I hadn't had the courage to put myself out there and take all those rejections. My edge — my understanding of the importance of "foreplay" — gave me the chutzpah to do just that, in defiance of all the self-talk telling me I didn't have what it takes. And once I found myself in that wondrous land beyond dating, it wasn't long before I finally got to put those "foreplay" skills to use! 😉

In the interest of fairness, I should point out that I had a natural advantage here: a strong romantic streak. I've always had that. Even in elementary school, when I felt peer pressure to see girls as icky, I knew that that was just a mask I was expected to wear; it didn't reflect at all my actual feelings about girls!

So naturally, my romantic side joined the conversation in my head about what to do with this newfound knowledge about "foreplay". It made me realize: I need to stop thinking of it as "foreplay". (Now you know why I've been putting that word in quotes this whole time.) If my cock inside her pussy isn't going to be the main course for her, then I need to treat it as dessert — in which case the main course is everything we do up to that point that's designed to bring her to the heights of ecstasy.

Fun Fact: Little did I know this at the time, but my sexual experiences with women would teach me that the more she enjoys the main course, the more she'll look forward to dessert! Who'd have thunk!

Redefining the main course was just the beginning. The romantic in me was ambitious; he dared me to aim higher. I decided it wasn't enough just to stimulate her clit; I was going to be her pussy's best friend! And it dawned on me: the main course was going to be thrilling for me! The thought of not just seeing her naked, but using her nakedness to make her feel good — and make her feel loved — was intoxicating. (And it still is, after all these years!)

This line of thinking has evolved to the point where I now want her pussy to be in a deep, passionate relationship not only with my cock, but also with my fingers, lips, & tongue. And that's not all: I also want my fingers, lips, & tongue to be in a deep, passionate relationship with her breasts. Even within the context of monogamy, it's way more fun when our parts are "polyamorous" with each other!

I can understand a man choosing to approach the main course differently from me. But to simply ignore it? Are you kidding me?! When dating felt like a game where I was an amateur competing against the pros, paying attention to the main course seemed like a no-brainer ninja move.

And a number of women — including Long After the Thrill, Lexie Janson, and Ossiana Tepfenhart — have warned that today, a man isn't competing with other men so much as with a woman's own peace. (For the record, I believe Ossiana identifies as a femme-presenting enby.) To put it another way, a woman has to believe that a man's presence in her life will be a net positive. (As a man, I feel the same way; I've been aggressively pursued by women who didn't make me feel safe.) So if anything, embracing the main course is even more of a no-brainer now than it was back in my college days.

With Love,

© Ben Rosenthal 2025