新聞資料整理

【2010.01.13】

Today, a 25 year old from Los Angeles (by way of Alabama) will become the first legal male prostitute in this country’s history. “Markus” (his working name) was fresh off the Greyhound bus yesterday when he granted Details an exclusive first interview in a cottage at the Shady Lady Ranch brothel, two-and-a-half-hours northwest of Las Vegas. His story is about to become a national sensation. Read on to find out why.

Q: So you’d rather be called a gigolo than a prostitute.
A: I think for a male, if you want to be successful in this type of venture, you’re not a prostitute. You’re a surrogate lover. You encompass everything that’s required of you—not only emotionally, physically—but psychologically. Because women are wired differently. They’re much more sensitive creatures. You actually have to enjoy what you do. You can’t necessarily say, “Oh, it’s just a job.” You actually have to say it’s a passion. I think it’s the same situation as with anything that happens when you break apart a social institution. There has to be some kind of change in terminology to describe persons like myself. And it’s more of a civil rights thing now. Basically this is the first time in the economy of the United States that a male has actually stood up and said, “I want to do this for a living.” And be protected under law to do it. It’s just the same as when Rosa Parks decided to sit at the front instead of the back. She was proclaiming her rights as a disadvantaged, African-American older woman. And I’m doing the same. I’m actually standing up now, and hopefully I can be supported by the male community and be understood as a person. This actually isn’t about selling my body. This is about changing social norms.

Q: And how is it that you became the first legal gigolo in this country?
A: When I was 7, my father and mother applied for a divorce, and I was pretty much left sensory deprived for my whole adolescent and formative years. There was a deficit there—a sensory deficit—where I was left in a shell. There wasn’t anything sexual about it. It was more, like, caresses—maybe a kiss on the cheek or a hug. Psychologists say a child should be hugged at least, you know, two or three times a day for him to be a functional human being. Then, once I reached adulthood, I didn’t have any sexual relationships. So naturally, when someone is in the psychological state that I’m in, I don’t think of it as a disadvantage. I think it’s more of a prerequisite for what I’m fixin’ to do. You’re striving to make up for lost time, basically. You’re trying to remake the things that you were missing out on as a young adult. Psychologically, Freud always said that every man inherently has an innate desire to copulate or have some sort of relation with his mother—regardless of whether he wants to admit it or not. I think this engenders what it means to be a gigolo. A gigolo is looking for a surrogate mother. And basically he’s filling the need for someone, but at the same time, he’s getting the respect and the compassion that he missed from an earlier developmental deficit.

Q: Are there other things that qualify you for the job?
A: I’ve been in the adult industry—I’ve only done a couple of scenes, but I realize it’s very cold and calculated. What I experienced was that the male was just a prop—nothing more, nothing less. In the porn world, they say it’s like a menu: BJ, double penetration—that’s prostitution. That’s not feeling affection or love. People say the adult industry is failing. It’s not failing—it’s stagnant. No one’s really being progressive. I view myself as an artist, a performer. It’s a craft, and it has to be learned. In porn, they have to have these degrading acts. I consider myself a classier person than going below myself to do that. This is much different. It’s closer and more personal. Whichever woman may walk through the door, she’s appreciated. A surrogate lover will love that woman for a whole hour, or however much we charge here [$200 for 40 minutes], and she’ll leave feeling much more empowered, and much more confident in herself. I’m an equal opportunity employer. I don’t discriminate based on race, color, creed, ethnicity, or skin tone. Notice I left gender out. That’s for a reason.

Q: Why? Will you have a women-only policy?
A: I think gay people are very put-together. I think they’re very classy, very well-organized people. They have great personalities. I have nothing against them, but that’s not me. And as the first male that’s entering this field legally in the entire United States, I’d like to assert my rights and say that I can sit here and have a decent conversation, but I draw the line at that. In the adult industry they said, “Well you’re not going to make enough money. The equation’s already set—you have to go gay for pay if you want to make the big bucks.” So, that’s prostitution, in my opinion. That’s disrespect to the artist. My sphincter isn’t for sale. But what is for sale is companionship—total appreciation for whoever walks through that door. I’m not saying I’m special. I’m not saying that I’m better than anyone, but I’m definitely unique. And I think it’s a good thing.

Q: How are you unique?
A: There’s five things I think that separate a gigolo from the average man: number one being the psychological profile—how he was raised, his upbringing, his thought, his morality, what he views as right and wrong. He must have the heart of a saint, the mind of a philosopher, and the skills of the devil—that’s the second qualification. The third one is I never refer to any woman as a bitch, ho, twat, cunt, or any of those terms. It offends me. Women don’t pay for sex, they pay for experience. And luckily for me, I don’t have that much experience with sex, but I have the mentality and the emotion and gumption to make them feel the way they want to feel. And if I complete that through sex, too—which I’m a very good performer in that respect, too—my mission’s accomplished. The fourth thing that separates a gigolo is a gigolo knows how to cook, clean, and do the things necessary to upkeep himself. He’s totally independent. He can cook a 3-course meal, and at the same time, serve wine.

Q: Where did you get those five rules? Are those just things you came up with or did you read them somewhere?
A: That’s my charter. It has to be developed because if anyone else is going to do this, they’re going to have to have a charter set up. I knew if this was going to be a viable business, you have to have a level of discipline. I think that a gigolo should have no relations outside of the brothel because it’s his playground. Through engaging with a female, he’s actually rewarding himself in a way he’s never been rewarded before. It’s a very beautiful, almost holy experience. I’m changing the way people think. I’m not college-educated, but I’m well-read. That’s the fifth thing that a gigolo must have. He must be literate, he must have a sense of honor and dignity to himself. He should just be an all-around good guy.

Q: Where did you write your charter?
A: I memorized it. I think the charter lays out what can actually be accomplished. Because this is going to be a tough job—don’t get me wrong. There’s going to be times where there’s an ugly woman—ugly physically—but there’s going to be something inside of her that has to be released, and if I can release it through sexual activity or just conversation and companionship, that’s what I have to do.

Q: How did you come to Nevada?
A: I left L.A. because there was really nothing there for me. Everyone was so set in their ways. I just wasn’t getting enough work through the adult industry. I came across the Shady Lady article, and I decided that this would be the best choice for me. It would actually utilize me and actually train me, so if I actually do get called up for another film, I’ll be much more inclined and very much more experienced.

Q: How did you get involved in the adult industry?
A: Well, I’ve only been involved in two films, but I really didn’t like it. I’m an artist. They try to reinvent it, but I think it just comes down to the fact that people aren’t passionate about it anymore, so the market suffers. I don’t think it has anything to do with the economy. It has to do with there’s no more passion involved.

Q: How long ago did you do your first film?
A: About a month ago.

Q: Oh, so you’re relatively new to all this.
A: Yeah, I’m relatively new and see, like I said, it’s so set over there, they wouldn’t even give me the chance. You couldn’t even set foot inside the door. I’m from the same background as Larry Flynt. Larry Flynt was from the backhills of Kentucky. He wasn’t a city boy. He wasn’t a rich, high-class friggin’ has-it-all type of guy. He was actually a fuckin’ chicken farmer. That’s where I come from. That’s my heritage.

Q: Where are you from?
A: I’m from Alabama, sir. I’m from the great county of Lawrence.

Q: What city?
A: I don’t really want to divulge that because then people back in my hometown are going to be like, “Oh my God…”

Q: When did you leave?
A: Well, I joined the military because I have a sense of adventure. I’m a very adventure-oriented person.

Q: How long were you in the military?
A: I was in it for 2 years but I got in trouble. I don’t really want to get into it.

Q: Did you get deployed?
A: Uh, no. Was supposed to, but I didn’t want to go. So because it was on a voluntary basis, I was like, “I’m gettin’ out.” It was the Marine Corps. The thrillers and killers. I was about 21 when I joined. I’m 25 now.

Q: How’d you get out of it?
A: I just didn’t want to go. I told my commanding officer I didn’t want to be a Marine anymore and he was like, ‘Okay, we’ll file your paperwork.” I didn’t get benefits or anything, but I got out.

Q: Did you get an honorable discharge?
A: No, I got “other than honorable.” It’s middle ground. But it’s not like I failed. I kind of screwed up—I don’t want to divulge anymore.

Q: Where’d you go after that?
A: I went back home to Alabama. There wasn’t much goin’ on there. I went back, grandma and grandpa were still living next to us, Daddy was still working at the paper mill. I knew as soon as I got back there wasn’t any opportunity there.

Q: What were you doing before the military?
A: I was going to college at the University of North Alabama. I studied political science with international relations. I just got sick of college life. That wasn’t for me.

Q: Does your father know you’re out here?
A: Well, yeah, but he doesn’t know what’s going on down here. I don’t know if he’ll be surprised, disappointed, angry, upset, proud, or—I don’t really know. But that’s my choice, you know? It doesn’t bother me. What I’m doing is perfectly normal.

Q: How’d you decide on California?
A: Because I was reading a book—How To Make Love Like a Porn Star by Jenna Jameson. Yeah, I was reading that book and I thought, “Hey, I want to do that. I’m a talented that way. I can hack that.” And here I am. It’s funny how things work out.

Q: How’d you get to California from Alabama?
A: I drove my car. A ’98 Honda Civic. I was literally living out of the back of my car. I went to food drives and stuff to get food. It was very depressing, because I was like, ‘What the hell have I got myself into?’ I was literally a starving artist in the truest sense of the word.

Q: Did you try finding work in something other than the adult film industry?
A: I tried applying for anything from waiter to car washer to any of these menial odd jobs, and felt like I was really wasting talent and time on it. I felt that my youth was being wasted.

Q: Did you get any of those jobs?
A: Nope. It’s just the economy. The economy sucks. So I ended up in a homeless shelter in the Santa Monica area.

Q: So how did you first get involved—did you meet someone who already was a gigolo or something?
A: No, no. It didn’t happen that way. I was on the Internet, and there was this expose about how this would actually be the first legal male prostitute in the United States and they were hiring. So I decided, hey, I’ll apply for it. I was in California and saw that this place was accepting applications.

Q: So tomorrow you go to get formally registered in the state—the country’s first legal gigolo. All the camera crews are coming. You nervous?
A: Yeah. I think we’re stirring the hornets’ nest with this. I need a cigarette. I don’t smoke, but I need a cigarette. Hey, you don’t have a lighter do you?

【2010.02.02  By Mandy Stadtmiller】

Who would hire the first legal male hooker in the country?
A desperate spinster? A lonely divorcee? A New York Post reporter on undercover assignment?
Answer: All of the above. This month, as Nevada anointed the country’s first-ever legal male prostitute — in the form of “Markus,” a 25-year-old beefy ex-Marine — it became incredibly clear that one thing had to happen immediately.
The Post had to have a go at this gigolo.
SEE THE PHOTOS
A $500 cash advance, an overnight flight to Vegas and a 2 1/2-hour car ride later, I arrive at the brothel. I’m sweaty, stinky and pumped from listening to “lite-romance” radio. Because truly: Nothing gets you in the mood for a legal male hooker like “Wind Beneath My Wings.”
At 3 p.m., I arrive at the appropriately titled Shady Lady Ranch for my two-hour booking (Prices: $200 for 40 minutes, $300 for one hour. And sorry, ladies — he can’t go back to back “because he puts so much into it”).
The scene: mostly dust, sunlight and sadness. That, and the occasional sign about the importance of using latex condoms.
“Markus” (real name: Patrick) greets me in glasses, a satin blue shirt and slacks, and leads me to a bedroom where we sit opposite each other as I fumble for the cash out of my “Precious Moments” pocketbook.
“First thing we do is visual inspection,” explains the dorky college dropout who later confesses I am only his second client, he has been with a total of six women in his life, and, to be perfectly honest, he lost his virginity at 23.
“So,” Markus says after leaning over and kissing my knee, “we’re going to get undressed and then take a shower. Then we can both inspect each other to make sure there are no discrepancies.”
Minutes later, as we’re standing naked in the shower, he’s examining me like a second-rate gynecologist and nodding.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, cooing that I’m “practically” an 8 or a 9. “Everything looks great down there.”
Oh. My. God.
Over the next two hours, Markus shares his personal bits, too. Originally from Hatton, Ala., he felt abandoned by his mother after his parents divorced at an early age. (This is why, he says, he got into male prostitution, to find the intimacy that he lacked.)
In addition to comparing himself to civil rights pioneer Rosa Parks (“I’m breaking through sexual segregation”), he also identifies with Lady Gaga (“I’m a performer”), van Gogh (“I’m an artist”) and Moby (“I’m an eccentric”). Before becoming America’s first legal “prosti-dude,” Markus dabbled in porn while he lived in Los Angeles but quit after just two scenes because he found it too degrading to women.
Also, he was homeless for a few months before he learned about this fantastic opportunity to become a sex-worker pioneer at Shady Lady.
To explain my visit, I tell him I don’t have much luck with men, watch a lot of porn, want to learn more and would be delighted if he simply “put on a show” for me.
Now, to answer the question on your mind: No. I did not sleep with him.
It was like a bad second date. That cost $500.
“You have a beautiful body,” he tells me. He kisses my back. “You even taste good,” he says. Then he brings out his little “trick box,” as he calls it, but such is his luck today, he can’t find the lubricant he says is crackerjack for making women climax.
Not so fast, Markus.
“Why don’t you give me a massage?” I say.
He says he’s never had an STD and doesn’t worry about getting women pregnant (“because you can feel it when a condom breaks”). He repeatedly asks to show me his abilities and flicks out his scarily Gene Simmons-esque tongue which totally turns me off. Who wants a man this eager?
“I’m not a hooker,” he says repeatedly. “I’m a surrogate lover.”
While Merril Bainbridge’s “When I Kiss Your Mouth” plays embarrassingly in the background (I did not make out with him), we’re interrupted by the sound of an occasional honk from a peacock roaming outside and, from the lobby, the intermittent sounds of giggling female hookers.
His recently shaved body is quite fit (he works out daily at the brothel, where he lives) and covered in tattoos, including a Chinese character meaning “to seek.” He is 5-foot-9, and, um, very well-endowed.
I have so many questions. “Do you use Viagra?”
“No Viagra,” he says. “No Enzyte.” And he says he doesn’t date outside of work. “I won’t be able to perform.”
When I ask Markus why he waited so long to have sex (remember: he lost it at 23), he says it’s because “no one wanted me.”
How funny, I observe, that he became a male prostitute.
“I think there was a definite plan,” he says.
“Like . . . ?” I ask. Yes, he says. Like a divine plan. Destiny.
In case it ever comes up, Markus says he’s learned much of his sexual technique from the “Karma Sutra,” and the reason he’s such a good lover is because he was “sensory deprived” by his mother.
“I’ve healed people,” he says of his lovemaking ability, which most recently included his first client — a 45-year-old woman who hadn’t been laid in two years and in Markus’ words “was wild as a bug.”
He also loves cooking French cuisine. Favorite meal: chicken cordon bleu.
“I love being caressed,” he says.
“You know that Chris Rock joke,” I ask him, “about how all a father wants to do is keep his daughter off the pole? You’re like the male equivalent. All a mom wants to do is keep her kid from becoming a gigolo.”
He laughs. He reveals his fantasy that he would love to be roughed up by a lady cop with her baton. In the hot tub, he says he likes to be spanked and told he’s a bad little boy.
At some point, for comedic effect, I say, “Come to mama.”
“I don’t believe in therapy,” he says as he holds my hand in the red heart-shaped whirlpool while he lights the vanilla candles around us. “I think this is therapy.”
I ask him again about the Viagra. Because . . . surely?
“No,” he says. “I just have to have attention, you know.
“Touch me all you want,” he continues. “You’re not getting the full experience, I’m telling you.”
As romantic as that sounds, I tell him how much it turns me on to hear about something romantic. He looks genuinely befuddled. “Let me think,” he says. “Like what, like being on a horse ranch?”
He tells me that if you can “pronunciate” words well, it means you are great at pleasuring a woman.
He’s half Irish, a quarter Native American, a quarter Scandinavian and all lover. Favorite book: “1984.” Favorite movie: “Braveheart.” Actor he’s like: “Steve-O.” Musician he’s like: “Moby,” or — wait for it — “Choppin” (meaning Chopin).
“The concept of beauty has changed over the years,” he continues. “It’s like the cave paintings. Venus de Milo. It used to be the voluptuous woman,” he says as he eyes me up and down.
Hold up, hold up. “Did you just call me fat?” I ask.
Then he asks me to spank him.
“Maybe you should go to a dominatrix psychologist?” I helpfully suggest. “No,” he says. “I’m in paradise.”
After a long talk, a massage and his repeated pleadings to caress him, the two hours are up (he went 10 minutes over but still wanted to give me another massage so I had to call time) and the session ends.
As he escorts me outside, he just wants to know: Did he satisfy me?
“Uh,” I say, “yeah. Sure.”
Markus starts to walk me to my car and an older man — Jim Davis, the madam’s husband — stops him. “You got your stuff to do,” he reminds him.
Markus has taught me so much. About what a gigolo should never, ever, ever do. “Women don’t want sex so much as companionship,” he concludes. “Women can be a prostitute. But not men.”
Sure, Markus.
Whatever gets you through the night.
mstadtmiller @nypost.com

【2010.01.22 】

BEATTY, Nev. (AP) — A brothel in a Nevada desert town has hired the state’s first male prostitute, a muscular college dropout who abandoned a brief stint as a porn actor in Los Angeles to become the only legal gigolo in the United States.
The Shady Lady Ranch successfully won state and county approval to clear the way for the “prostidude,” as Nevada’s newest sex worker is already being called. After a slow first week on the job, his first appointments are scheduled for this weekend.

The male prostitute — known as “Markus” — has quickly become the center of attention in Nevada’s brothel industry.

He has been criticized by female counterparts for not being willing to have sex with men. And he created a dustup after telling Details magazine that his pioneering role in the sex business was “just the same” as civil rights icon Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat and move to the back of the bus during racial segregation in the U.S. South. Since those remarks, he has been forbidden from doing interviews.

Prostitution is illegal in nearly all of the United States but is legal in parts of the western state of Nevada, though not in its most famous city, Las Vegas.

Competing brothel owners fret that hiring gigolos in Nevada will bring unwanted scrutiny from state officials, potentially tempting them to make prostitution illegal. The competitors have also expressed concerns about sexually transmitted diseases, and worry that female customers can’t be inspected as carefully as men are before sex.

Markus, 25, described himself as a well-read college dropout and former U.S. Marine from Alabama. He said he drove to Los Angeles to become a porn actor and left after filming two scenes, the first about a month ago. He said he ended up in a homeless shelter near Santa Monica, Calif., after being unable to find another job.

Shady Lady madam Bobbi Davis picked him from about 10 potential hires culled from hundreds of applications, many featuring crude inquiries, according to her husband and co-owner, Jim. Part of Markus’ appeal was that he was not afraid to deal with heavy publicity.

“Whichever woman may walk through that door, she’s appreciated,” Markus said in his Details interview. “A surrogate lover will love that woman for a whole hour, or however much we charge here, and she’ll leave feeling much more empowered and much more confident in herself.”

Jim Davis told the Associated Press that after reading the article, he and his wife decided that Markus doing interviews was bad for business. Bobbi Davis declined an interview with the AP. The Davises declined to give Markus’ real name, which is a customary practice for sex workers in Nevada.

Davis said the Shady Lady had received dozens of e-mails expressing interest in the gigolo. He said it took years to establish steady business from truckers, salesmen and other travelers after the brothel opened 17 years ago, and getting paying female customers could take at least a month.

“This is a business — if (Bobbi Davis) didn’t think she could make more money, she wouldn’t have done it,” Davis said. “Why else would she start something like this?

“And if she knew what she was getting into, she probably wouldn’t have,” he said.

The yellow-painted Shady Lady compound is more than 30 miles (50 kilometers) north of Beatty — an unincorporated township of fewer than 1,200 people between Las Vegas and Reno.

The small, fenced-in brothel includes a French-themed foyer that displays a pricing menu — $200 for 40 minutes, $300 per hour. It sits on 40 acres of mostly empty land the Davises originally bought for $11,000, Davis said.

Three connected bedrooms are distinctly decorated. One has a heart-shaped hot tub in its bathroom, another has an Asian theme. The brothel’s newest space is a disconnected cottage that looks like a roomy studio, with a kitchenette, a wooden bathtub in the bedroom and armrests on the toilet. The cottage cost $50,000 to build, Davis said.

Markus plans to use the cottage.

“It won’t be successful,” said Arie Mack Moore, owner of the Angel’s Ladies Brothel, just north of Beatty. “You can’t have both (male and female prostitutes) in the same building or adjacent to each other, in my opinion.”

Moore claims his business has picked up since Markus was hired, with customers saying they wanted to avoid the Shady Lady because of Markus.

A 22-year-old prostitute at Angel’s Ladies named “Cuddles” said Markus’ unwillingness to see gay males makes the Shady Lady seem sexist and discriminatory. Her brothel services women.

“How can you just turn down services because of what someone’s preference is? It comes with the territory. It comes with the business,” she said.

Davis said that he and his wife aren’t interested in establishing a gay male clientele, but it will be up to Markus to decide whether to accept men as customers. Davis said Markus told him that he wouldn’t perform for male customers.

“All this gay homophobia in this country is horrible,” Davis said. “Everybody’s so damn scared two men might have sex — it’s happening every day in Las Vegas. Not going to happen here, but that’s all the big fear, is gay people.”

George Flint, a longtime lobbyist for the Nevada Brothel Owners Association, said allowing a male prostitute creates legitimate health concerns. Male customers are thoroughly cleaned and inspected for signs of disease before sex at Nevada’s brothels, and he doesn’t believe the same “fanaticism” is possible when checking female customers.

He also worries about the ramifications for the six other brothels in Nye County and the 24 total in Nevada.

“We got an industry in this state right now that’s got an investment of somewhere between $50 million and $75 million,” Flint said. “And yet Bobbi’s in the catbird seat right now where her antics and her procedures and her demands and her goals could potentially bruise an entire multimillion-dollar-a-year industry.”

Flint said he believed the Shady Lady Ranch, which is not a part of his association, could see a temporary wave of curious female customers, but the experiment will ultimately fail.

“I think she truly believes that it’s a viable effort, and I’m wondering after four or five days and there haven’t been any takers, if she’s beginning to wonder if maybe she was wrong,” Flint said. “You and I and the rest of the world can sit and debate this damn thing until hell freezes over, but if nobody shows up at her front door, what’s it proved?”

Copyright 2010 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

【2010.04.14  By Thierry Schaffauserp】
New laws on prostitution are sexist – being paid for sex does not objectify me any more than working in a low wage job did

On the 1 April 2010, the Policing and Crime Act became effective. We are facing not a feminist measure, but an ideology that sees women as unable to be sexually independent and free of their own actions. Anti-sex-worker laws are sexist. They are essentialist, paternalist and reinforce the division of women.

It is an essentialist conception to consider sex work as always a violence whatever the period, the place, or the conditions. Sex workers are often seen only as women when many men and transsexual people are also working, and women are always seen as victims by essence. All acts of violence against a sex worker are thus analysed as intrinsically the result of sex work itself and not the conditions in which sex work is exercised.

It stops the real violence that exists in the sex industry being visible. We are told that we must stop sex work to avoid this violence. If we refuse, we become accomplices of the patriarchal system. We are accused of being responsible for maintaining an industry that harms women.

Yet bell hooks warned feminists of the dangers of a “shared victimisation” sisterhood. A victim’s status for women reduce them to beings who must be protected. It participates in the denial of their capacities. It denies sex workers the free disposal of our bodies, our self-determination, our capacity to express our sexual consent like children under 16. It reinforces the idea that sex workers are too stupid, lazy, without any skills, and without consciousness of their alienation.

Many anti-sex-workers’ rights activists think that rape is the conditioning to becoming a sex worker. These claims about rape in our childhood or Stockholm syndrome are used to de-legitimate political attempts to be recognised as experts on our lives and to confiscate our voice. How could we say that a victim of rape has lost her capacity to express her consent because she is traumatised for life? We never say that for other people.

Another paternalistic way to deny our voice is to claim that we are manipulated by pimps. It is a common accusation since the beginning of our movement in 1975. This strategy has been used against many groups. For instance women were accused of being manipulated by the church to be deprived their right to vote.

Instead of fighting the “whore stigma”, middle-class feminists prefer to distance themselves from it, and by doing so reinforce it and exclude those who incarnate this identity. This participates in the segregation between women. This may be a form of internalised sexism by other women who think female sex workers give them a bad name. According to some anti-sex-workers’ rights activists, sex workers maintain the idea that men can own women’s bodies. Sex workers are told that they create a sexual pressure on the whole women class.

On the contrary, I think that it is by using expressions such as “selling your body” that we reinforce the idea of sex workers being owned and women as objects, while sex workers try to impose the term the “sale of sexual services” between two adult subjects. How can we talk about the ownership of our bodies when we are on the contrary those who impose their conditions? Isn’t it an excuse not to question their own sexuality?

Being penetrated doesn’t mean that I give my body. Being paid for sex doesn’t make me more of an object than when I was working for the minimum wage. What makes me an object is political discourses that silence me, criminalise my sexual partners against my will, refuse me equal rights as a worker and citizen, and refuse to acknowledge my self-determination and the words I use to describe myself.

【2009.06.03 】

MAP: Australia
Organisations that capitalise on the suffering of the people they are supposedly helping can learn a great deal from the recent Salvation Army apology, writes Scarlet Alliance president Elena Jeffreys.

“An advertisement has run in the Sydney Telegraph this morning… certainly has offended those working within this particular segment within their community. The very last thing that we would want to do is to distance ourselves from any person in need and so as a direct result we pulled the ad from our public media,” Major Philip Maxwell of the Salvation Army told a horde of media gathered in the Salvation Army cafe on Albion Street, Surry Hills.

Sex workers had spent several hours negotiating for an apology, and had a strong presence at the launch, holding red umbrellas and signs including “Salvo’s Pimping Sex Workers”, “We don’t need to be rescued – We Need RIGHTS”, and my favourite, “Salvo’s = Ugly Mug”.

The offensiveness of the ad comes from the stereotypes and stigma it perpetuates. The ad speaks about a male sex worker who is ‘saved’ by the Salvation Army. The stereotype is simple. Sex workers are victims of an immoral world, the Salvation Army are our liberators. Readers’ first thoughts are “Yes a sex worker is saved by a religious charity, all is right in the world”.

It is always more plausible to understand sex workers as victims than it is to understand us as intelligent, articulate and community-minded.

The proof that stigma and discrimination is so rife is that people will believe and accept an unusually dramatic story over and above the banal day-to-day reality of paying your rent or mortgage through sex work. The bigger insult was that the Salvation Army chose a obscure anecdote (and all the prejudice it embodies) over hundreds of thousands of other examples of sex worker community strength and resilience.

“We don’t believe that it is the case that the majority of sex workers are working in the industry without choice,” Scarlet Alliance CEO Janelle Fawkes told Gemma Snowdon of The Wire last Friday.

“We have a large membership of both organisations and individual sex workers, and we have been in existence since 1989, and our organisation is in fact made up of sex workers.

“So actually what is reflected by our membership, and the sex workers we and our membership interact with on outreach in Australia, is that the majority of sex workers have made a choice to work as sex workers.”

Perhaps the prejudice would have been more obvious in the first instance if it was about homosexuality. If the headline had read “To help Rick with his sexuality, we had to resort to brainwashing” I believe even the newspaper would have had second thoughts about running it.

If the ad had capitalised on community misunderstanding of sexual assault issues in Indigenous communities I hope it would not have been run: “To prevent sexual assault in an Aboriginal community, we had to resort to removing their children”.

Community attitudes have changed in regard to the stolen generation.

The recent advertisement was a sad reminder to sex workers and supporters: we still have a long way to go. The Salvation Army misread what is acceptable regarding sex workers’ portrayal in the media, and they did apologise for it, but it doesn’t change the reality that a committee of people in uniform thought societal unease about sex work a worthwhile brand for their charity.

Sex workers responded: “Just because we are discriminated against doesn’t make it OK to discriminate.”

Generally people seem open to evidence-based, mature and non-hysterical approaches to sex work.

The Scarlet Alliance membership represents a strong community of peer educators, spokespeople and representatives who are more than capable of providing services and support to our own community when in need, and identifying prejudice when we see it.

Tens of thousands of occasions of sex worker peer education are shared within the sex worker community every year. We use condoms for sex. We enjoy good workplaces. However in some states and territories we are not covered by anti-discrimination laws, still criminalised, and subject to misunderstanding and prejudice. On the up-side we have the best occupational health and safety of any sex industry in the world, and we argue strongly for human rights in all possible forums.

Sex workers need solidarity not hand-outs if we are going to keep getting it right in Australia. And there is so much to celebrate. The Salvation Army’s Major Philip Maxwell recognises that as well, and concluded Friday’s media conference thus: “We do have an ongoing relationship as far as working with people of all levels and spheres within life, I confirm that as an ongoing commitment.”

Sex workers look forward to it as well.

International Whores Day is celebrated annually on June 2. In Sydney this includes a protest outside Parliament House, Melbourne and Canberra are having sex worker only social events, and Adelaide commemorates with a public march on June 5.

Elena Jeffreys is the president of the Scarlet Alliance – the Australian Sex Workers Association.

【2009.01.27  BY JOE POMPEO】

On a recent Wednesday evening, Robert was with a client in Greenwich Village. It was a first-timer who’d called him a few days earlier to arrange a meeting at a bar on 9th Street so they could speak face-to-face before closing the deal he’d proposed earlier.
When Robert arrived, the man, in his mid-60s and, Robert said, “handsome and fit for his age,” was sipping a martini; Robert ordered a glass of pinot noir. After their drinks were done, he went back to the guy’s apartment, had sex with him and became $360 richer.
“I like it when clients ask me to meet them out somewhere first,” said Robert the following night, when he stopped for coffee at a Bedford Avenue cafe en route to some art openings on the Lower East Side. (He agreed to speak with The Observer on the condition we’d use a pseudonym.) He was wearing tight Uniqlo jeans tucked into Army-issue boots and a vintage plaid button-down fastened to his chest by skinny Marc Jacobs suspenders. “It gives me a chance to be charming,” he continued. “Build up their desire. Get them to want me.”
Robert sounded like a professional letting you in on a bit of strategy. Still, he doesn’t seem like what they call a “pro” on Law & Order. At least if you saw him on the street, you’d probably think he looked like any other hip 23-year-old who moved to Williamsburg because it was cooler than whatever suburb had spawned him. But he is—to use an old British expression that’s currently the preferred terminology for some men who work this job—a rent boy, selling his companionship, sexual or otherwise, for a hefty hourly fee. He’s been escorting more or less full time for about half a year now, making as much as $3,000 a week. Before that he worked in an Apple Store for around $15 an hour.
“I never thought I’d be doing this,” he said, “but it just sort of worked out that it’s actually a lot of fun!”
It’s one of the oldest stories in this city, of course. For many of us in post-Ashley Dupre New York, the word “escort” conjures images of decadent trysts between beautiful women and influential politicians or other members of high society.
Much quieter, and a much smaller sector of the prostitution economy, are the men who fill the same role: charging high rates (though usually not as high as Ms. Dupre) to meet with rich clients, without having to work the streets.
In the minds of many in New York, anonymous (or, in this case, pseudonymous) gay sex in New York hasn’t grown up from its 1970’s roots. Enabled by Craigslist and the back pages of The Village Voice, it perhaps no longer has to involve dour, methed up looking kids strolling the western reaches of the meatpacking district. But there is a distinct aura of extra seediness that alarms readers enough to make big news out of the alleged meth-fueled encounters between disgraced Colorado mega-preacher Rev. Ted Haggard and his whistle-blowing masseur, or Boy George handcuffing a male hustler to the wall of his East London apartment.
Of course rent boys do sometimes find themselves on the sunnier side of pop culture, like when they were portrayed by River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves in My Own Private Idaho, Gus Van Sant’s classic 1991 road movie about the friendship between two male hustlers. Mike Jones got a book deal and an appearance in Deborah Solomon’s New York Times Magazine column after exposing his three-year “professional” relationship with Rev. Haggard. And who could forget Manhattan’s own Jason Preston, the former escort who famously dated Marc Jacobs for two years? Pictured alternately on his MySpace page locking arms with Courtney Love and posing wistfully in a sleeveless Smiths t-shirt that reveals the numerous star tattoos on his arms, you might say the 28-year-old Mr. Preston was the consummate example of what a rent boy can make himself in New York: a fixture on the downtown social and artistic scene.
But for now Robert doesn’t aspire to the party-pictures section of Paper magazine; being a rent boy in this frigid economic climate simply means being able to afford the expensive metropolitan life that many others in more wholesome professions are struggling to sustain.
“The hipster rent boy would be someone who’s smart and has a lot of other things going on, lots of ambitions, but who realizes upon coming here that living the whole New York lifestyle is going to be hugely expensive,” said Sean Van Sant, U.S. CEO of RentBoy.com, a Manhattan-based Web site that connects male escorts worldwide with those seeking their services. Mr. Van Sant is clearly well-versed in this more subtle brand of rent boy: Though a cursory glance of RentBoy.com will reveal no shortage of beefy Playgirl model types (at least one-fifth of which, Mr. Van Sant said, are actually straight; “gay for pay”), his professional surname recalls the maestro of Idaho in which the brooding son of the mayor, played by Mr. Reeves, navigates his way through the social world of hipster hustlers before performing his Prince Hal-style transformation.
“He’s relatively new to New York and has a taste for clothing; wants a better apartment, maybe even a car,” Mr. Van Sant continued. “He realizes it’s gonna take awhile to get ahead in whatever career he wants to get ahead in, especially if it’s acting or fashion or art. And he figures out that he can supplement his lifestyle based on his looks alone.”
This was true for Shy (that’s a nickname he sometimes uses professionally), a 28-year-old shaggy-haired artist who lives in Williamsburg. Shy moved to the city from upstate New York about four years ago to finish his B.F.A. at the School of Visual Arts. After a year of taking classes full time and struggling to cover his $1,100 rent, bills and art supplies with the money he’d make from miscellaneous freelance gigs—set design, photography, etc.—it was time for Plan B.
“When the financial reality became very hard, there was no thinking about it,” said Shy, who answered the phone like he was used to getting calls from random men when a reporter dialed him out of the blue one evening. “It was like, ‘Just do it!’”

Becoming a rent boy seemed like such a no-brainer, Shy said, because as it was, older gentlemen would offer him money for sex whenever he’d cruise chat rooms looking to hook up. Like, good money. $300-an-hour money. Sure, it wasn’t his ideal way of making a living, but what is a starving artist with a few months unpaid back rent and tens of thousands of dollars in student loans to do?
And, whatever Mr. Van Sant may say, it seems logical that on a larger scale that’s where this phenomenon developed. For older, wealthy gay men in New York, used to having a doorman and a housekeeper, a masseur and a personal shopper, the D.I.Y. aesthetic of going out to clubs and bars or trolling Craigslist to find someone who might or might not reject their advances would seem an unnecessary chore.
One day, a benefactor entered the picture, albeit one who was old enough to be Shy’s grandfather. Still struggling to cover his rent and tuition, Shy had posted “a very desperate” Craigslist ad that just laid it all out; something along the lines of—Me: a young man looking for a mutually beneficial situation in which romantic companionship is exchanged for complete financial stability. You: A lonely rich guy.
And it worked. One such individual, a wealthy 70-year-old whom Shy said was prominent in the theater world and New York society, responded to his plea. They met for the first time over dinner at Craftsteak to discuss their new arrangement. Shy would be paid $2,000 each month just to hang out two or three days a week. Score!
Over the next year, Shy’s new friend took him to Broadway shows and fancy dinners. There were expensive shopping excursions and weekend jaunts to L.A. Shy also got $3,000 worth of cosmetic dental work out of the deal. And yes, he became as intimate as it’s possible to become with another person. They also became very close. But, Shy said, the benefactor left town rather suddenly after the economy tanked this past fall, and it was over to RentBoy.com for him.
“Sex work is not something I intend or want to do forever, but it’s a choice I made, and if it comes back to haunt me down the road, I’ll just have to face it and know there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said.
It seems like shame is less of a deterrent for sex workers today than it was 20, or even 10 years ago. The sex work industry is becoming increasingly professionalized, at least in so-called “global” cities like New York and L.A., said Sudhir Venkatesh, a sociology professor at Columbia University who’s studied high-end male and female escorts for the past decade. With the rise of the Internet, the professor said, there’s been a “profound shift” in the sex work economy; many escorts have moved indoors with a private client base and can now charge higher rates, even if they’ve had to make some recession-friendly adjustments as of late.
“They look at themselves as providing a personal service and they often even think of themselves as therapists,” said Prof. Venkatesh.
Last summer, Robert met his boyfriend, another Williamsburg artist. (Both had hustled in the past and both are doing it now.) He confirmed that times have changed.
“In New York, it’s not a shameful thing,” the boyfriend, who spoke on condition we didn’t use a name for him, said. He was sitting in a dark bar in east midtown on a recent Friday afternoon sipping a glass of merlot to the sound of pool balls clanking. “It’s really changed in the last five years.”
Robert’s boyfriend first tried hustling “out of curiosity” back when he was 18 and living in Miami, but he said the experience left a bad taste in his mouth—no pun intended. (“Back then I was like, getting blow jobs in the back of a strip mall near my house. Totally seedy!”) Now 26, he’s decided to give the rent boy life a second try. His miscellaneous freelance jobs bartending and doing fashion styling (he has a B.A. in multi-studio arts) weren’t paying the bills. Within 24 hours of creating a profile on RentBoy.com this past October, he got his first client.
“The money’s great, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a part of it,” he said. “But also, as an artist, it provides a lot of material. It gives me access to people’s private spaces and thoughts, and that’s the best part.”
One former rent boy agreed that there’s something to be said for privacy. In fact, after hesitantly agreeing to be interviewed for this article via an anonymous e-mail address, he subsequently declined, writing: “In this totally media-saturated world, I do have the distinct feeling that discretion and secrets are sometimes the mark of an important, and increasingly rare kind of coolness. I’m not getting on my high horse, but I love the idea that there are certain friendships, certain liaisons, certain bars, certain evenings, certain dinner parties, and certain experiences that aren’t on twitter, or email, or gawker, or anywhere else.”
Of course there are obvious downsides to this lifestyle, any rent boy will tell you, like having to deal with the occasional nightmare client. (For Robert’s boyfriend, a prickish wealthy foreigner who twice commissioned his services at The Plaza hotel comes to mind. For Robert, it was the guy who tried to get him to clean his entire Upper East Side apartment and have sex with him for an insulting $50.)
Then there’s the constant reality that one day you might actually get busted. Sienna Baskin, an attorney at the Urban Justice Center’s Sex Workers Project, said there have been recent instances of police targeting individual sex workers on Craig’s List, although indoor escorts are generally targeted less frequently than streetwalkers.
Nor are the police the only potential menace. What if an opportunistic John manages to steal the credit cards from your wallet? What if one day you end up in the apartment of a straight up psycho?
“I’ve seen a lot of instability; people who get depressed or put themselves into dangerous situations,” said Prof. Venkatesh, the Columbia University sociologist.

Courting danger, some rent boys will say, is part of the initial draw to the job.
Way back in 2001, one young man interviewed by The Observer found himself killing time looking at personal ads on the Web (he thinks it was on the Web site gay.com). Life was tough in the way it often is for 20-somethings in New York: income, from waiting tables, had to be squeezed in between five days a week of dance and acting classes. And there it was, sticking out among the “long walks on the beach” and “not into the bar scene” lies: someone who wanted to pay $100 to perform oral sex on a man.
“It was kind of titillating, exciting and…simple,” he said. “In those situations, you’re thrilled and nervous at the same time.”
Sitting in a packed Flatiron District lunch spot on a recent Friday afternoon, and speaking as discreetly as possible so as not to scandalize the middle-aged businessman and peppy 20-something girls he was sandwiched between, he described how six months of being a rent boy at about $250 an hour earned him enough cash to get him back on his feet, financially.
He spent the next few years party-promoting in the East Village and working as a real estate broker on the side. Then, last year, he got into independent film production, racking up a huge personal debt. So he returned to the Life and earned another $30 to $40 grand in six months.
But even though his finances have dictated his forays into the oldest profession, he thinks there’s more to it when someone decides to go the rent-boy route.
“Yes, someone’s situation at whatever present moment he’s at can lead to getting into hustling, but every New Yorker’s in debt, or laid off, and not everyone chooses this as a solution,” he said. “There’s something more psychological and deep as to why you’d go that route.”
That said, he wouldn’t have any qualms about doing it again if he needed the money to fund another project, though he’ll avoid it if he can.
Prof. Venkatesh said that aside from the fact most male escorts work independently while female escorts usually have madams, one of the biggest differences between male and female sex workers is that men have a quicker turnover rate, while women, who generally can charge higher fees (Ashley Dupre was worth more than $4,000 an hour), tend not to go back to “legitimate” employment. Yet sources with ties to the secretive world of high end male escorts said that rent boys who ascend to the topmost ranks of the business can make thousands upon thousands of dollars an hour. At the upper crusts of society, they said, the bulk of compensation is not tendered in currency, but gifts, property, tuition, etc.
As for Robert, he said he doesn’t see himself being a rent boy for all that much longer. Eventually, he said, he wants to work in fashion, which was one of the reasons he came to New York in the first place.
In the meantime, at least he has a job.
“So many people hate their jobs but they need to keep them because they need to make money, and they can’t look for another job in this economy,” he said. “I’m happy that I’m able to make money and be happy at the same time. It’s like, I understand what a hooker is, but the difference between what a hooker is and what I think I am…”
He paused.
“I don’t think I’m a hooker. I guess I don’t really know what I am. A companion? I’m selling my time, my affection. Not my dick.”

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全世界首創負標／正標辦法：

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【2008.09.20  By This is Grimsby】

HOW much is that… man in the window? The one with the expensive price tag!

There was a whole host of hunks on show in Humberston, last night – all in aid of Grimsby’s St Andrew’s Hospice.

Women from all over North East Lincolnshire pulled out all the stops at The Beachcomber for the glamorous Men For Sale auction, now in its fifth year.

Fin Muir put himself up for auction at the sight of these lovely ladies with auctioneer Gary Payne ready to take offers! Back right is hospice fundraiser Angela Greenfield.
The popular event saw 22 men up for “auction”, who presented lots including a date in a hot air balloon, an archeological dig and a rally driving day.

Looking apprehensive as they wait to be ‘sold’ off are Ian Keyworth (left) and James Campbell.
Organiser Angela Greenfield, a fundraiser for the hospice, said: “The event is so popular and we are hoping to raise more than £10,000 this year.

“I love the evening. Everybody has such a great night and it’s all for such a great cause.”

The auction was hosted by Gary Payne, who said: “There are 22 men and more than 200 women – which always adds up for a fun experience!

“It’s a great night and I love doing it, and the fact that it is for such a good cause makes it all worthwhile.”

資料來源: http://www.grimsbytelegraph.co.uk/Hunks-hammer-charity/story-11548606-detail/story.html

【2005.01.15  蘋果日報  勾奇特攻隊/報導】

男人會上酒家尋找一夜風流；酒家女則會上牛郎店找回被踐踏的自尊。因此，在一物剋一物又循環不已的現實法則下，許多想賺進大把鈔票又對女人有一套的男人們，紛紛投入「牛郎」這行業；日本除了發展出彷若明星網站般的個人應召網站，甚至還有「港鴨速遞」至日本，只為了讓一些來自台港的酒家女們，有另一種親近的熟悉感。

約在十年前，台中文化城的牛郎餐廳紅極一時，因為那時的牛郎一定要身懷絕技，十八般武藝都得精通，才能勝任這項工作；另一項賣點，就是牛郎的身材絕對傲視一般男子，除了體態魁梧、穩重大方，外加溫柔體貼之餘，還需陪女客人出場「吃消夜」。其盛名更遠播到國外，曾有新加坡、香港的「仕女觀光團」前來台中市「觀光」，可謂牛郎店的全盛時期。

成熟穩重 不受歡迎

如今，隨消費者喜好的轉變，專挑年輕氣盛、俊帥十足的「小牛」，使得成熟穩重有內涵的「老牛」，成了「過氣牛」，無可避免的，牛郎店也只好調整經營手法，以「幼齒服務」來吸引消費者。
也因此，在應徵牛郎時，為了引合女客人的口味，皆都以「年紀輕、很敢玩、臉蛋俏」等要點為錄取標準，為牛郎店注入新的活血，也讓這種強調幼齒服務的牛郎店，天天門庭若市、座無虛席。此外，縱觀整個亞洲的「牛郎市場」，也全都吹起這股「小牛」風潮。

陪酒唱歌 身懷絕招

其實，多數進出牛郎店的紅塵女子或闊太太，花了大把鈔票，為的不過就是有個男人願意陪著她，聽她說說心裡的話。過去，即有許多台港女子，離鄉背景赴日陪酒撈錢，除了忍受言語不通、生活苦悶，還要每天面對日本嫖客的變態行為，雖然每月可賺近二十萬台幣，但她們也極需被撫慰芳心，因而出現「港鴨速遞」至日本，其工作範圍就是聆聽、陪酒、唱歌、做這班風塵女子的出氣袋，當然也提供性服務，每月可穩賺三十多萬元台幣。
雖然在日本做「鴨」比做「雞」好賺，但這些牛郎們若想獲得恩客多點打賞，基本絕招是絕不可少。例如精通各種舞技；會唱日文歌、國語歌；每天穿著比基尼內褲，以便隨時脫個精光，上陣跳Table dance；穿衣要有品味；女客上廁所要在門口陪著，等她出來再遞上熱毛巾；要隨時細心、關心女客，可不是一件輕鬆的差事。

日本
這種強調「幼齒服務」的牛郎店，天天都是門庭若市。香港《壹本便利》提供

台灣
台灣牛郎為生存或業績壓力，下海到牛郎應召站兼做性交易，因而被警方以釣魚方式破獲。

香港
將從香港遠赴日本的「港鴨」，明顯可看出高大身材與結實肌肉。香港《壹本便利》提供
 

日本牛郎架網站拼生意

儘管台灣牛郎店業者求新求變，但仍變不過現實環境不景氣的壓力；於是揹負業績大任的牛郎只得咬緊牙關，當起「外派」牛郎，出賣身體從事性交易，既省時又獲利可圖。此外，會從事性交易的牛郎，都是「牛圈」中的佼佼者，在這些條件優質牛郎所建立的口碑下，女客口耳相傳，更是在牛郎業造成一陣旋風。

有如明星網站

同樣面臨泡沬經濟危機的日本牛郎，則是發展出有如明星網站般，充滿寫真照片、個人生平、理念，當作招攬女性客人的廣告。有興趣的女性可以直接傳電子郵件或打電話給對方，約時間見面。
目前日本有個知名牛郎的個人網站，每天平均吸引三至四百人次的女性瀏覽。這位現年四十幾歲、擁有八年經驗的資深牛郎表示，現在網路上至少有三百多個牛郎相關網站，比三年前增加了一百倍，同業之間的競爭相當激烈。他說，女客年齡多半在二十到三十歲之間；其中四成是粉領族，家庭主婦也佔四成，至於風化場所的小姐則只有一成。

【2003.08.26  蘋果日報  文/張惠美（旅日社會觀察者）】

曾去過台灣的牛郎店一次，牛郎們甜言蜜語功夫夠，可惜文化水平不高，待了不到一個小時，就覺得乏味，店長還特定請出店裡第一紅牌的弟弟來坐台。

體貼幽默扮豬吃老虎

這位弟弟長相還算清秀，但製造氣氛的火候不夠，不禁令我懷疑，他為何會是第一紅牌呢？
聊起來才知道，這位弟弟原來是政大大學生，但因失戀，蹺課多，慘遭1/2退學，現在等當兵。他說不少女客人跟他說，等他退伍，會出錢讓他去讀完大學。從他楚楚可憐樣子，我猜到為何他會是第一紅牌，除了會勾起女人喜歡照顧『小動物』的『母性』（一種自我催眠）外，更重要的是，在一群豬頭牛郎中，他讓人覺得他還會有未來，有投資的價值呢。
到日本後，樓下住著一個牛郎鄰居，偶爾會敦親睦鄰，做些中華料理請他吃，久而久之就知道牛郎界一些內情，像是95％都是轉業者，之前工作各式各樣：自衛隊軍官、大公司上班族、卡車司機、業務員、公務員等。
當牛郎的理由，除了一般想像的「可以和小姐玩又免費喝酒」、「牛郎的收入較高」外，還有些非常簡單的理由，像「大公司內的人際關係很辛苦」、「早上沒有辦法早起」！
牛郎店在日屬於合法行業，不像台灣在法律邊緣，會有不肖業者會利用刊登徵用廣告來騙錢。日本牛郎店徵人時，光明正大在一般求人雜誌上登廣告。

七成收入不佳要兼差

面試很簡單，除了基本長相要求外，主要是看應徵者的兩個要項：態度與幹勁。
態度是指基本禮儀，與基本的日語敬語使用能力。幹勁是指把牛郎當一份工作來做，而非只是想來喝酒和上床。履歷書就算應徵者全部寫假，店家也不會在乎。不過由於雇用未滿18歲的員工，會遭到營業停止的嚴厲處分，要求提示年齡證明文件。
牛郎店並不如外界想像，是簡單賺錢的地方，薪資完全靠客人指定坐檯，如果沒有客人指定，月收還不如在麥當勞打工。一家店能足夠維持生活收入的牛郎，大概只有三成。其餘的七成牛郎，不是在店家關門後，到其他牛郎酒吧坐檯打工外，就是過極端貧窮的生活。

日本女客人不易被騙

在台灣要當紅牌牛郎，主要是幽默風趣、會帶熱氣氛，或裝出一時落難，他日必有飛黃騰達之時，讓女客人覺得你是值得投資。但在日本，女性客人瞭解只不過是遊戲場，不會期待在這裡找到可依靠的男人。
紅牌牛郎靠的是體貼細心與觀察力。必須在與客人有限的對話中，觀察客人個性與需求，看是需要「熱鬧的氣氛」、「聊天的朋友」、「上床的情人」、「訴苦的聽眾」還是「開導的老師」，然而以體貼方式，去滿足對方的需求。
認識這位牛郎鄰居超過一年，到現在還是沒去過他的店玩，既然我可以用「蕃茄炒蛋」、「蔥花蛋」就換到一兩個小時有趣的「聊天」，又何必還要去花那一個晚上的兩、三萬台幣呢？呵呵……