An Ode To The Lost Art Fingering

One time in college, I left a crowded frat party with a guy to go make out in the always-unlocked science building across the street. We ended up in a dimly lit hallway, pushed up against the wall with someone’s senior research poster crumpling up against my back. The vibe? Impeccable. That’s when he whispered something in my ear that I’ll never forget. “Just so you know, I’m a master at fingering.”

In the moment, I laughed it off and told him we needed to get back to the party. He was a decent kisser, but this line made me cringe. Our makeout ended, and we went on with our lives. But here I am almost fifteen years and several sexual partners later wondering if this Master of Fingering — this King of Third Base, this Champion of Fingerbanging, this Guru of G-spot Massage — was making a salient point. Because really, the state of fingering in heterosexual relationships has gone to sh*t.

I bring this up with the men I want to sleep with, because if you can’t talk about sex with the people you’re f*cking then really, what is the point? I like to bring this up before we have sex, because I think everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves.

I ask if they believe fingering is a lost art form, and they usually laugh (I’ll allow it, I am funny) and then disagree with me. Some men are like yeah, I can see where you’re coming from, but the majority either vehemently disagree because they have an overinflated sense of their own skill set, or they think fingering is juvenile and a “waste of time” when you’re hooking up. Much like their opinion on fingering, the conversation becomes dull and dry very quickly.

The notion that foreplay is a waste of time is a pretty toxic way to engage with a potential sexual partner. I’m not here to tell you that it’s important (I’ll leave that to the experts), but instead I want to focus on this notion that we’re too old for fingering. Sure, even the word “fingering” feels like something a 14-year-old is tittering at right now. But this kind of thinking is silly!

Why do so many people link a hot sex act back to something that high schoolers are doing on the bus home from a field trip, or in a movie theater, or under a blanket five feet away from their friends at a co-ed sleepover at the “cool mom’s” house? Because that kind of fingering was (understandably) bad! Maybe it was too clumsy and tentative, or way too eager and stiff, leaving you sore and confused about what part of sex was supposed to actually feel good. It’s time to move on.

Instead, let’s think about the incredibly intimate and sensual act of fingering. Men: the very fingers that you used to swipe on a dating app to meet the woman in front of you can be inside of her — is that not incredibly hot? The privilege of delicately exploring someone’s body from the inside is in your future, and you want to use that as an opportunity to shove three fingers inside to see if she’s aroused enough for your penis? Give me a break!

Any woman knows that half of the thrill of hooking up is the anticipation and the teasing. A good fingering session prioritizes this, and I suspect that this is what the Master of Fingering was getting at — he knew that it was a hot sex act on its own, and not some cursory lead-up to something else more exciting.

A lot of women can orgasm more easily with manual stimulation of the clitoris and G-spot, rather than with penetration alone. Sure, orgasm doesn’t need to be the end goal of every sexual encounter, but it would be great if more men considered putting it on the menu. Especially since it’s such a versatile option to play with, like if one of you isn’t fully aroused, or you’re fooling around in a parked car.

Guys, I promise one of the steamiest things you can do at a party is to pull your partner into the bathroom and wash your hands while maintaining eye contact. There are all sorts of incredibly delightful ways that you can have sex with the person (or people! Live your truth) in front of you, and one of those ways is with good ol’ fashioned third base.

Fingering doesn’t deserve this “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” legacy. It deserves a blowout wedding with a live band and a smoking hot groom and a made-to-order midnight omelet station and 200 people that get the exactly appropriate amount of drunk to keep things fun. And hopefully somewhere in the shadows at that wedding, a lucky guest is getting finger-banged into oblivion.