avatarJulia Beaudett

Summary

The article discusses the author's personal perspective on whether foreplay should be considered sex, emphasizing the importance of individual definitions and experiences.

Abstract

The author reflects on their own experiences with casual sex and foreplay, noting a distinction between the two based on emotional connection and penetration. They recount encounters where foreplay occurred without leading to penetrative sex, questioning societal and personal definitions of what constitutes 'sex'. The author acknowledges that while some may consider any intimate act, including foreplay, as sex, others reserve the term for penetrative intercourse. The article also touches on the impact of cultural norms and personal boundaries on these definitions, advocating for a broader understanding that accommodates diverse perspectives.

Opinions

  • The author believes that penetrative sex involves a unique connection and energy exchange, distinguishing it from other sexual acts.
  • They express a personal boundary against casual sex, preferring a deeper emotional connection.
  • The author recounts instances of consensual foreplay without penetration, suggesting these experiences are distinct from what they consider sex.
  • There is an acknowledgment of varying perspectives on what constitutes sex, influenced by personal experiences and industries like sex work or modeling.
  • The article challenges the traditional, heterocentric definition of sex, advocating for a more inclusive definition that encompasses various forms of sexual interaction.
  • The author questions why some individuals who engage in non-penetrative sexual acts still consider themselves virgins, highlighting inconsistencies in societal views on sex.
  • It is suggested that the line between foreplay and sex is subjective and should be defined by personal satisfaction and consent rather than strict societal norms.

Does Foreplay Count As Sex?

In an attempt to simplify our language, we shouldn’t forget about the differences in each other’s perspectives of sex.

Photo by Juliette F on Unsplash

I was never interested in casual sex with the strangers or someone I didn’t love or at least wasn’t downright attracted to.

Call me a desperate romantic, but I believe that there’s certain energy we exchange during penetrative sex. It’s a special connection between two bodies becoming one.

It doesn’t matter if you are the one penetrating or the one being penetrated — this act deeply connects two people beyond just the physical realm. It’s hard to describe, but having experienced sex with someone you truly care about and feel close to, it’s impossible to look at sex as a simple pleasure you can get from a one night stand. Therefore, I’m not interested in one and would think twice before letting someone go that far.

A few weeks ago I was on a date with an Italian guy. He came over to make me dinner. We talked and had some wine. He was an interesting person and kind to my cats. Still, it didn’t click between us. At least, it didn’t for me.

As we were talking on the couch, he reached out to kiss me. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to have sex with him since there wasn’t enough chemistry between us. Yet, I was curious to see his moves.

It didn’t end with sex. After indulging in a little bit of foreplay, I sent him home. Evil, I know. But consensual and respectful.

Soon after, I ended up in bed with another man. He was an interesting person to talk to but I wasn’t attracted to him either.

He had read my articles in an effort to get to know me, and at some point reached for my nipples after asking for my consent. I knew I didn’t want to have sex with him despite liking him as a person. But it felt nice and I didn’t stop him, even knowing I wouldn’t allow him to go further.

Still, he knew what he was doing so when he tried to finger me, I almost came.

That night might seem confusing for some. We were naked in bed, he kissed my body all over and almost made me come, but there was no penetration or actual kissing so technically, I could compare that day to drunkenly making out at a high-school party with a stranger for 20 minutes before throwing up and going home.

When I told my friend about my recent experiences, she stared at me, eyes wide open.

“If someone undresses me and sees me naked, I already count it as sex,” she said, ”I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but just because there was no penetration, doesn’t mean it wasn’t actual sex.”

Having the experience of working in the sex and modeling industries, presenting myself naked in front of the dozens of students and artists in the Academy of Art, or posing naked in front of photographers for a photoshoot, I consider myself an exhibitionist of some sort. I find it liberating to be naked and don’t mind other people to look at me when I am. The female body is beautiful and shouldn’t be over-sexualized or objectified.

With that experience on my hands, I could never count every person who saw me naked as my sexual partner. Still, I understand and respect the perspectives of others where the simple act of presenting themselves naked might feel as intimate as having any sort of sexual interaction.

But if some count foreplay as non-penetrative sex, why do people who refuse sex before marriage and stick to various forms of petting still consider themselves virgins?

The dictionary defines sex as sexual contact between individuals involving penetration, especially the insertion of a man’s erect penis into a woman’s vagina, typically culminating in orgasm and the ejaculation of semen.

And even though this definition seems slightly outdated and heterocentric, it makes sense to count penetration, whether it’s male penetrating another male, or female penetrating another female with the toy as sex.

Everything else that normally leads to sex is usually considered a sexual act but doesn’t necessarily mean that sexual intercourse actually occurred.

Some people find it easier to have quick casual sex with a person they don’t know but feel more intimate and connected when it comes to the deeper sexual interactions such as fingering, blowjobs, or intense foreplay.

So where’s the line between foreplay and sex? And should there even be one as long as it’s consensual and satisfying?

A 2014 study on heterosexual undergraduates revealed that some behaviors (penile-vaginal intercourse) were far more decisively rated as “definitely sex” than were others.

Looking back on my latest relationship, I never counted blow jobs as sex. It could be a great start for one or be an independent sexual act, but I would never describe or refer to it as sexual intercourse.

It seems like when we’re with someone, we never treat little sexual things such as fingering or teasing as sex, but why should we do that when it happens outside of a relationship?

It all comes down to our personal boundaries and preferences and it is our own choice whether or not we can count certain experiences as sex. But in an attempt to simplify our language, we shouldn’t forget about the differences in each other’s perspectives of sex.

In my experience, I know there are some things I will remember as a fun sexual experience, and other things — like a little foreplay with a nice guy that I don’t really want to actually have sex with — that I’ll enjoy in the moment but that will fade from my memory someday. Because to me, it wasn’t a deep sexual connection or really a sexual act, at all.

Sexuality
Relationships
Self-awareness
This Happened To Me
Self
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