GFE providers dominate the industry and, in this post-review era, what “GFE” actually entails is more nebulous than ever. Both high-end companions and our clients are looking for that special something: a unique chemistry, individualized intimacy. Nothing cookie-cutter or superficial.

It’s probably inevitable that many GFE companion dates can approach something like “therapy lite.” With longer appointments and more public time spent with clients comes that strong emotional connection. The client gets emotionally vulnerable with the provider and bam, something flips. Oxytocin surges, so client and provider feel more bonded than ever; the provider is flattered that she has made the client feel safe enough to open up, and she steps into Therapy Mode. Or is tempted to, at least. (I’m speaking for myself here.)

Are providers therapists? Emphatically: No, of course not.

First, we have zero professional qualifications. Sure, we’ve logged the hours — probably many hours — listening to peoples’ problems and offering a sympathetic ear and possibly even helpful suggestions. Is this a substitute for the formal education and training that actual therapists receive? It is not. Is it a substitute for a real, long-standing therapist-patient relationship where both parties check in with each other on the effectiveness of the therapists’ suggestions and the patients’ work on themselves? It is not.

Secondly, clients and providers are physically intimate. This creates a massive conflict of interest. Therapists are not allowed to be physically intimate with their clients, for obvious reasons. Therapists can lose their licenses over it.

Thirdly, there’s another conflict of interest. Real therapists’ #1 job is to try to help their clients; to mutually discover what issues the client/patient wants to work on, and to put together a treatment plan using the therapeutic techniques at their disposal (possibly working together with a psychiatrist who prescribes medication).

Providers have no such duty. We don’t have a duty to do anything at all, besides “selling our time and companionship,” whatever that means (and it varies a lot between providers.) Generally, our goal as provider is: Make the client feel good so they continue seeing us, as long as we feel comfortable seeing them. That’s it.

Providers — unlike actual therapists — lack an overall incentive to push the client toward habits that will make their life better, or anything else. We just want the client to feel good when they leave us. In that case, we face a difficult dilemma: tell the client the hard truths, or simply let him have a bit of escapism? Hedonistic fun? Thoughtful but unchallenging conversations?

To put it another way: therapy sucks. It’s difficult. It’s draining. It can bring up long-dormant feelings, many of them unpleasant or painful. Effective therapy digs up trauma and the things we dislike most about ourselves.

Is it worth it? Yes, if you have a good therapist and you give it an honest shot.

But is it fun? Nah. Few people jump for joy when they have a therapy session that afternoon. Therapy is a bit like getting your teeth cleaned: a healthy habit, and ultimately an investment in yourself — but not the most enjoyable experience, really.

To be effective, therapists have to give their clients/patients honest assessments of their behavior. Have you ever wanted to throw something at your therapist when they point out all the ways your behavior is counter-productive or harmful? I have. Have you ever wanted to sob with embarrassment, shame and frustration as you realize all the hard work it will take to actually better yourself? I have.

If providers inspired the same feelings in our clients that therapists can — frustration, defensiveness, shame, guilt, even blinding rage — we wouldn’t get much repeat business. And repeat business is our bread and butter.

While there are many different styles of GFE providers, a hard and fast rule is: sessions with a provider should be fun.

Details vary — every client and every session is different — but most people find the following fun: smiles, laughter, sharing a drink or meal; cheerful and lively conversation, lots of eye contact, flirting, yielding to temptation. And so on. Life-affirming, simple fun. The type of fun that makes you think to yourself, “I’m ok! That was fun. A little harmless escapism. Life’s pretty good, and I can always escape to this.”

Therapy — real therapy, the sort that helps you understand your behavior patterns and make a change in your life — isn’t usually fun. Personal growth, when you are in the thick of it, is painful and difficult.

People go to providers because it’s fun; people go to therapy because they need it. (Or because someone is forcing you to go, but for therapy to be effective, you’ve got to want to change.)

And by the way: whether you value higher education and professional gatekeeping or not, therapists’ slew of degrees and professional qualifications helps them step into the role of Therapist as we broadly understand it. A social construct, where the therapist has wide latitude to, essentially, be a jerk to you for the sake of helping you, and is insulated from your ire for doing so.

Providers have no such insulation.