Ah, the elusive GFE. What is it, really? Every one of us who seek it probably means something a little different. Every one of the ladies who offer it, too. And of course some who *claim* to, are apparently offering the Lewis Carroll Humpty Dumpty GFE. ("When *I* use a word ... it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.")
But, gentlemen, it could be so much worse. Let's remember some of our real girlfriends ... and imagine what the Girl Friend Experience might be, if our Playground of the Damned® were a little more like civilian life:
GFE #1:
You arrive at the incall and put the donation on the table. You put your arms around her and lean in for a kiss. She pushes you gently away and says, "Hey, you're a very nice guy and I really like you--just not that way. Let's be friends."
GFE #2:
You're both undressed, things are starting well, as you kiss you touch her tongue with yours. She pulls away and says, "I don't do that." OK, whatever. Things progress, you indicate a nice BJ would be welcome. She stiffens and says, "I don't do that." A few minutes later, hoping maybe at least a little DATY might be on the menu, you start to move south. She clamps her legs together, jumps into a tight crouch at the head of the bed, and hisses, "What is WRONG with you??"
GFE #3:
You put the donation on the table and excuse yourself. When you come out, she's sitting on the bed, fully dressed, and pats a spot a foot away to invite you to sit down. You do, wondering what's going on. She looks at you with a very serious expression and says, "We have to talk."
GFE #4:
You arrive at the address and she texts you the room number. You find the door and are about to knock, when you hear sounds from inside that tell you clearly that the hot session you were looking forward to has started without you. Then you see the note taped to the door (in magenta ink, with hearts over the i's and smiley faces inside the o's):
"I'm sooooo sorry! I know I should have told you sooner, but there just wasn't a good way to say it. I hope you can forgive me. xoxo P.S. Just slide the envelope under the door, thx!"
GFE #5:
You decide to try an outcall. The evening of the appointment, you clean up your place, take a shower, shave, brush your teeth and rinse with mouthwash, get dressed, make sure an assortment of drinks is ready, and check the clock. Ten minutes to go. Cool. You check yourself in the mirror, straighten out a few magazines, pace around, and settle down to watch the time as it goes from five minutes till, to the hour, to five minutes past. No problem. At ten minutes past the hour you think, Should I contact her? Nah, she's just stuck in traffic. Finally, at fifteen minutes, you venture a text. "Hi, looking forward to seeing you. Everything OK?" No answer. OK, she'll be here any minute, calm down. At 25 past you try again, and this time you get a reply:
"WILL U STOP BUGGING ME!!!! IM ALMOST THERE, OK??"
When she finally shows up 45 minutes late, she's drunk and in a foul mood. She starts a fight as soon as she walks in about something you don't remember doing. In fact it's a pretty good bet you didn't do it, since you've never laid eyes on her before this moment. You end up apologizing anyway just to stop her screaming and throwing things. After calling you a few more choice names and adding that your place is a dump, she storms off, snatching up the envelope on her way out and slamming the door so hard that your favorite picture, the one your college girlfriend bought for you in Paris, falls off the wall and shatters on the floor.
