What happened when New Zealand men signed up, alone, to learn about female pleasure

Last week, I was pleasantly surprised. By men. Most of them total strangers. Specifically, the nineteen men who paid to spend an evening learning about desire, and how pleasure actually works in a body that isn't their own. They hadn't

been dragged along by their partner. They saw an ad, they booked, and they came along. By themselves.

Kiwi men are raised on a steady diet of "she'll be right," and so it would be easy to assume they'd rather wing it forever than put their hand up and admit there's something about desire and female pleasure they were never taught, let alone sign up to learn about it. I wasn't convinced about that assumption, so I decided to test it. I created an evening session built for men, around a simple promise: this is what she wishes you knew.

It worked. Beer (or wine) in hand, they settled in for ninety minutes on desire, female pleasure, and yes, the clitoris. So much for the old assumptions. What this showed me is the opposite: given the chance, men are eager to learn.

We were all sent into adulthood underprepared

Most of us learned more about the inside of a volcano at school than about how sex actually works. It's a societal education gap, and a remarkably even-handed one: it left the men just as stranded as the women. None of us were taught this stuff, and now there's a chance to close that gap. The men who turned up were doing exactly that.

So what did they enjoy most, and take away? The practical side, for one — the pointers on pleasure spots and how to use them. But it went deeper than that. They also hugely valued the bigger picture: how desire actually works, and how differently it can show up for men and women. Often spontaneous in men, more responsive in women. They enjoyed getting into the sex researcher Emily Nagoski's model of sexual brakes and accelerators too, and the understanding that it pays to slow things down and give desire room to build.

One described the 3D model of the full clitoris as looking a bit like an octopus (which is hilarious, but I can see the resemblance), and nothing like the modest little button most of us were shown in a diagram once back in health class.

The most common word in the feedback was "safe"

Everyone who filled in the feedback form rated the evening as a safe, comfortable space, and every one of them said they'd come to another, and recommend it to their mates. The word that surfaced again and again wasn't "explicit" or "awkward." It was safe.

That matters more than it sounds. The reason this stuff gets figured out alone for so long isn't that men (or women for that matter) don't care. It's more to do with who you'd actually ask, and whether you feel comfortable and safe enough to ask those questions.

That kind of trusted, judgment-free space has always been hard to come by, which is exactly what these sessions are built to be: real education in a relaxed setting, with a bit of fun along the way. One man said it wasn't just the content he valued, but hearing the other men's perspectives too. If you've ever assumed you were the only one wondering, rest assured, you are definitely not alone.

One last thing that came up: how reassuring it was to learn that parts of what they were already doing were right. They arrived curious and a little unsure, and left with greater knowledge and confidence.

The men and the women asked for the same two things

A month earlier, I'd run the same kind of evening for women. A different room, but a very similar conversation at heart, because women have missed out on this information just as much as men.

The women came eager to learn, much as I'd expected. They asked the frank questions, and left wanting more. Just like the men, everyone who filled in the feedback form said the room felt safe and would recommend it to a friend, and most were already planning to come back. One called it a rare, comfortable space to explore the things we so seldom talk about.

The deeper overlap was in what each group wanted next. When I compared the two, they'd landed on the very same questions. How do we keep desire alive across a long-term relationship. And how do we actually talk to a partner about sex without it becoming a loaded conversation. Different doors into the same room. The men wanted it. The women wanted it. Neither had ever been handed it.

The signs are encouraging

What it says about us is quietly encouraging. Give men and women a space that feels safe, with real information, plus plenty of fun baked in, and they don't just show up, they get stuck in. Not knowing is no longer good enough, and learning beats pretending.

I came to this work the long way around. I stumbled across a lot of this information almost by accident, then kept going, deeper into the learning and eventually into training as a sexologist. Along the way I came to see how much it matters, how central sexual satisfaction is to the wider happiness of a relationship. Seeing other people open up to greater knowledge and understanding is the best part of the job. The conversation is starting. It turns out most of us were just waiting for permission to have it.

Rachel Strevens is a sexologist, sex coach and educator, and founder of The Passion Project. She runs regular workshops for men and women on a range of topics including sex, intimacy, desire and pleasure, as well as one-on-one coaching for men, women and couples. The next installment of these men's and women's sessions are coming up. Find out more at thepassionproject.co.nz/pleasure-lab.