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Foreplay has come and gone. So has he.

The lights are still on, which is never a good sign. You look better in the dark. Besides, this just means he was so fast, you didn’t have time to turn them off. He makes the minute man look like a marathon runner.

Or maybe your story has a better climax than mine. Maybe yours isn’t all falling action, like mine is.

Let’s set this up the right way: He was hot. All six feet-something of hard muscle. I mean this in a strictly non-phallic sense. Six feet would be ridiculous. He was probably closer to four.

In any case, he drove three hours to see me at one o’clock in the morning. I know that’s a lot of numbers, but stick with me here. This is what happened:

I opened the door to a man in a weight-lifting shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He was holding his…cell phone. He walked straight into my bedroom.

My first mistake: I followed him. My second: I helped take off his clothes. My third: I had sex with him. At the time, it seemed like love. Maybe I need to watch some more romance movies.

But the point here is that it hurt. Think…putting your hand on an open flame. Only worse. He threw me down on the bed, pulled down my shorts, and…

Think of fresh laundry. Not damp, not wet. Just – dry and a little stiff and certainly not ready to rumble.

I can’t believe I just compared myself to a dry pair of jeans.

Regardless of the long metaphor, what is really important here is that there was nothing leading up to the main event. The curtains rose and fell in the same stroke.

The best part was that he kept telling me to “make noise.” The only noise I could think of sounded something like, “get the hell off me.” I think Rihanna wrote a song about this, but she may have meant SOS in a completely different context.

So once he was all finished, he got dressed and left. Jealous?

Now I feel like there must be some moral all crammed in there with the sheets I had to wash. I need to insert something of value into this one night stand, or else I feel like maybe I was used. But that can’t be it. I mean, he stuck around for like ten minutes after…

So what is the lesson?

I have no idea. But I think the lesson is foreplay. Now you might think I’m wrong, and that’s ok, too. Because I’m not; the lesson is that what happens before sex is just as, if not more, important than the sex itself. Believe me; it would’ve been much less painful if he would have done something, anything other than what he did. Or didn’t do.

By the by, oral does not really count as foreplay. Because once he goes off, the action stops. If you know what I mean.

Massaging, kissing, touching…a lot of things that end with “ing.” See, oral sexing doesn’t really work. I mean, it’s good stuff, but stick to the basics. Foreplay, in a few words, keeps its pants on.

Besides, he’ll have to hang around longer if he wants to have sex. He might even spend the night.