The Girlfriend Experience?

You make me feel like the Amazon's runnin' between…

my thighs… You make me feel love, love, love, love, love

love, love, love, love…You make me feel like a candy apple, Red and horny,

You make me feel like I wanna be a dumb blonde, In a centerfold, the girl next door, And I would open the door and…I'd be all wet, With my tits soaking through this tiny little t-shirt…That I'm wearing, And you would open the door and tie…

Me up to the bed. “Feelin Love,” Paula Cole

It seems to me that the girlfriend experience (GFE) is misnamed, and it's time to rename it. I’ve had a lot of girlfriends, and even the best experience couldn’t meet the definition of a GFE. Even my horniest girlfriend wasn’t
always in the mood. Now this was a girl who would do anything I wanted, usually whenever I wanted, without hesitation or question, but if she was sad, sick, tired or one of us was more drunk than the other (usually me), she would decline. That
being said, she wasn’t a toy I could fold-up and put in a box when I left. She needed affection, attention, cards, flowers and tender words. I had to plan dinners and trips to surprise her and remember important dates. Now to be fair, she
was smoking hot and it wasn’t difficult to let her know I cared about her, but it wasn’t a non-stop fantasy. I had to put the work in and if I didn’t she would find someone else who would. I had to treat her like a girlfriend.

We are all looking to fulfill our fantasies. That’s why planes to Thailand, the Philippines, Central America and Brazil are always full of single guys of a certain age. We want a beautiful, young woman who’s always up for it, but only because
we inspire her lust. One of the best lines I heard from a comic was that he knew his wife wasn’t a virgin and had had sex before they met. It was just that she had never enjoyed it before being with him. This is the promise of the girlfriend
experience, a nymphomaniac who only realizes her affliction after we meet her. “You want to put that where? Of course my love, I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” The promise of lust filled nights with a nubile young thing
that lives only for our touch. Seems to me to be more of a sultan experience (sorry Dean Barrett).

Friends have questioned my motives for wanting to semi-retire and relocate to Thailand or elsewhere. They think it’s just about sex with bar girls and the sleazy life of a sexpat. But I assure you, that’s not it. Of course I want the attentions
of a beautiful young thing, someone who makes me feel young and handsome and desirable. But for me, the girlfriend experience is about one girl at a time, someone I can connect with sexually, but still want to be around in the morning. Not the
quick bar encounter, but something more. “So why Thailand,” I can hear Stickmanites scoffing already. Well, that’s easy. When my loving, wonderful “girlfriend” decides to ask for too much, stays out with her
Thai boyfriend, or disrespects me in any way, her replacement is only a few blocks away. Options make a man strong, I think. Many options make him damn near invincible.

Just because I enjoy the sentimental side of male-female relationships doesn’t mean I’m a fool. I want a girlfriend that I can trust, but I’m not giving her my pass codes and bank accounts numbers. I want to trust her frugality, but
I have a special credit card with a $500 limit that I can give her to treat herself while I’m working. If she maxes it out, then that’s the end of our relationship. A relatively inexpensive way to end what could have been a costly
relationship, I think. Now, just because I want a one-on-one relationship, doesn’t mean I’m immune to the offerings in the naughty boy areas of BKK, Pattaya and Phuket. These are just the icing on the cake. And this is what draws
myself, and many others to foreign shores. We want our cake and to eat it too, icing and all. I get the hypocrisy of it all, but hey, if I was perfect I’d stay in Farangland and be miserable.

So, I think it's time to rename the GFE. Something that reflects what it truly represents. I put this now to all you who read this site. Maybe Stick can run a contest, with a prize for whomsoever devises the best new definition for the expat/bargirl
encounter. The encounter where she makes you feel like a Hollywood star, powerful politician, or rock legend. Because that’s what we are all looking for in that 2-hour, or 2-week, encounter. We want to capture or re-capture that feeling
of youth and vitality and desirability. The sands of time keep slipping away, but at least I can spend the last bit on the beach. The Hugh Hefner Experience? We’ll see.