Thailand is a magnet for older Western men, particularly from the UK and Germany, who seem to dominate the landscape with much younger Thai women by their side. The contrast is glaring, and my teenage daughters often comment on how these women appear reluctant, walking beside their much older partners with an air of resignation. The truth is clear: many of these relationships are built on financial provision rather than genuine affection.
This dynamic, which plays out daily in Thailand, is now being mirrored on screen. The White Lotus star Walton Goggins recently weighed in on age-gap relationships, dismissing the controversy surrounding them. “An older man and a younger woman – why should we care?” he asks. His perspective, however, is one rooted in Hollywood storytelling rather than the grim reality that plays out in Southeast Asia.
The White Lotus
Goggins has had a busy schedule, transitioning from filming The White Lotus in Koh Samui, Thailand, to playing the Ghoul, a mutated bounty hunter, in Amazon’s Fallout series. His transformation into the character requires two-and-a-half hours in the makeup chair, a process he describes as “psychologically taxing.” After 18-hour workdays, Goggins speaks in his signature Southern drawl with the exhaustion of a man constantly on set.
At 53, though looking closer to 65, Goggins has built a career playing compelling, morally complex characters. From a corrupt cop in The Shield to a televangelist in The Righteous Gemstones, he has mastered the art of portraying flawed men. His latest role in The White Lotus sees him as Rick Hatchet, an irritable older man vacationing at a luxury Thai resort with his much younger girlfriend, Chelsea, played by Aimee Lou Wood. Their relationship, filled with tension and brief moments of tenderness, mirrors a reality I witness daily in Thailand.
Goggins is defensive about the criticism surrounding the age gap between Rick and Chelsea.
“I think that’s such a cheap observation,” he argues. “It’s a distraction. A connection between two souls transcends time. If two people find joy in each other, why should it matter?”
His dismissal of societal concerns feels detached from the reality on the ground. My teenage daughters find it repulsive, due to the Thai women’s faces and reactions when their grandpa hugs them sweaty and fat.
Financial Security Grants Them Companionship
What he doesn’t acknowledge is the stark power imbalance in these relationships. The older men walking around Thailand with much younger women aren’t simply souls destined to meet—they are men who have found an environment where financial security grants them companionship. Many of these men struggled to find relationships back home, but in Thailand, their pension or modest savings stretch far enough to attract younger partners eager for stability.
In The White Lotus, Rick and Chelsea’s relationship is portrayed as complex, filled with both frustration and moments of genuine connection. “Rick is weighed down by life,” Goggins explains. “Yet, at the end of each day, they share this tender intimacy.” That may be true for his fictional character, but in Thailand, the reality is often different. The older Western men are not brooding intellectuals searching for deeper meaning—they are men who have discovered that money can buy them what they couldn’t find in the West.
Goggins dismisses conversations about masculinity as a waste of time. “I don’t participate in discussions about toxic masculinity or the power shift between men and women,” he states. “I talk to my son about being a good human, about respect.” Yet, masculinity and power dynamics are at the core of what plays out in Thailand. The influx of older Western men and their young Thai partners is not simply about romance—it is about the economic and social structures that enable these relationships to flourish.
Goggins’ reflections on spirituality in The White Lotus are intriguing. The season satirizes Western consumerist attitudes toward spirituality, something Goggins is personally familiar with, having explored various religious traditions from Baptist to Pentecostal. He even recalls attending snake-handling churches as a child, which proved useless when he had to film a snake farm scene in The White Lotus. “I am terrified of snakes,” he admits. “Not just afraid—terrified. It’s a glitch in my DNA.”
While Goggins battles his fear of reptiles, the only snakes I see in Thailand are the older men who exploit the economic vulnerability of young Thai women. They lounge in bars, their beer guts hanging over their cargo shorts, grinning ear to ear. There is no performance here—no depth, no inner torment. It is a transactional existence, one that is disturbingly normalized.
Some may argue that these relationships are mutually beneficial. The men provide financial stability; the women offer companionship. But is that truly happiness? My daughters, with their fresh perspective, see through the façade. “They’re not in love,” they remark. “They’re stuck.” They recognize that these women are there out of necessity, not choice.
This is not an indictment of every age-gap relationship. True love can transcend age, culture, and background. But what is happening in Thailand is not a fairy tale—it is an economic arrangement disguised as romance. And that is a reality worth discussing, whether or not Hollywood wants to acknowledge it.
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