Sex work produces some unexpected fringe benefits. For instance, according to this article in Hazlitt about a proposed bill restricting classified ads for escorts in Canada, it supports print media at a time when little else will, and as well as other industries.
sex work ads contribute crucially to the health of print media. And the less secretive publishers are about this relationship, the better they seem to do: the Grid is dead, but NOW—despite a defiantly untrendy design—is holding strong. … There is no question that online advertising has transformed the sex industry, but in fact, ads for sexual services are far from endangered, and appear in print publications as diverse as the Toronto Sun and the New York Review of Books (which runs them alongside personals ads). …
Sex work supports economies beyond publishing. It’s likely that businesses in the hotel, transportation, and tourism spheres will be hurt by the bill, too. “The sex industry is huge, especially when you consider that it’s not just sex workers, but everyone involved with them—clients, drivers, porn consumers, sex bloggers… the list goes on and on,” says Carolyn, an agency escort in downtown Toronto (her name has been changed on request, to protect her anonymity). “Our clubs bring in tourists, our lived experiences sell books and magazines, and sex workers buy food and clothes and cars and houses just like everyone else. But we don’t talk about that. We’d rather have this illusion that sex workers are different from non-sex workers, and that what we do isn’t real work.”
“It’s hard to admit that sex work isn’t just happening in certain zones or neighbourhoods, and that any normal person you see around could be a sex worker,” she continues. “I think if people were to realize that, it would be much harder to criminalize and dismiss us.”
A married Mormon dad with money and secret poly impulses started paying women to pay attention to him because the Internet.
Boston began soliciting dates with women aged 31 to 63, stating in his profile that he was married. “Winks” from women showing their interest in his profile—some of them alarmingly attractive in a blow-dried Laguna Beach way—started rolling in at the rate of three to four a week. And so Boston became a dating machine, landing rendezvous with about 30 women so far. The leggy brunette in hot-pink stilettos. The busty artist. The therapist. The real estate agent. The UC Berkeley student.
Boston makes a $40 bid for an initial coffee date or dinner to vet a woman for compatibility. His date may then design a fantasy night out—for which he handles all expenses. He also compensates the date for her time if she asks, matching what he calculates as her overtime wages, sometimes $25 to $50 an hour. The woman can choose—and Boston emphasizes in his profile that he respects her choice—either “good clean fun,” like hand-holding and small kisses, or “friends with benefits.”
Beyond the costs of the dates, Boston has helped with other expenses: an Ikea bed, a transmission, a Tiffany bracelet. “Some people spend money on cars or a vacation,” Boston says. “I prefer to spend it on people I have a crush on.”
He calls this a kind of “philanthropy.” (?!) Not everyone agrees. His decisions have cost him his wife and his church: one divorced him, the other ex-communicated him. Now he lives in a trailer. Worth it? Je ne regret rien, says he.
he evinces no regrets when he talks about his new life: booking as many as three dates a week and nurturing three to four ongoing liaisons, including one with a dominatrix from Oakland to whom he pays $1,000 for four dates monthly. He even seems excited about a date who pickpocketed him.
We are all about self-actualization around these parts, whether or not it takes the form of a typical male midlife crisis. Still, it sucks for your self-actualization to come at the emotional and financial expense of your family.
This Atlantic article about the sex doll industry is even-handed and fair minded and still made me feel kind of queasy. I mean, if it helps certain frustrated or socially awkward men feel like they have a much-needed sexual outlet, great! Right?
The realism and utility of sex dolls took a giant leap forward in the late 90s, when artist Matt McCullen started working on a lifelike silicone female mannequin and documenting its progress on his website. Before long, he began getting emails asking if it was … anatomically correct. At the time, it wasn’t. But the demand was there, and so McCullen provided the supply. Hence, the eerily lifelike RealDoll was born. After shock jock Howard Stern got hold of one and seemingly had sex with it on his radio show, McCullen’s company grew quickly, and he now sells anywhere from 200 to 300 high-end customizable sex dolls per year.
Most of McCullen’s dolls are female; he makes a small number of male ones, but there are fewer options for customizing them, and they account for just 10 percent of his sales. “As an artist, I was always drawn to the female form, so that’s what my subject matter was,” McCullen says. “The female form was my muse.” He insists that actual women have nothing to fear from his dolls. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Do I think the dolls will replace women or threaten to replace women? Absolutely not.”
I did some research (NSFW) and discovered that prices peaked last year at $1,000 per doll and have now come down to about half that for certain models. You can buy a stationary female companion who will never laugh at or leave you for as little as $350, or less if you’re not particular and don’t mind the absence of a head or limbs. On the other end of the spectrum, one that looks like Joan Holloway Harris costs $1,600. (No, I will not provide a link.) For that much, I imagine you could enjoy the company — and then the memories — of an actual buxom redhead, but maybe some people really prefer the fantasy/approximation of the experience to the experience itself.
For whatever reason, the dolls on the page I’m looking at look racially homogenous: white or Asian, though with cartoonishly exaggerated boobs and hips, such that if you tried to stand them up, they’d tip over. McCullen, I’m sure there’s a demand for other ethnicities! Get on that, okay? No pun intended.
Just in case you woke up this morning sure that the brilliant and very original solution to your money woes is to become a sex worker—I mean, it’s worked out so well for our sample size of two—may I please direct you to “Behind Closed Doors: An Analysis of Indoor Sex Work in New York City,” a report put out by The Sex Workers Project. Read that. It’ll take about an hour. Pay special attention to the chapters on “Violence,” “Robbery from customers,” and “Police interactions,” but you know, of course bad things would never happen to you, so instead why don’t you actually just skip those and focus on “Finances.” This is not a solution to any of your problems. (Duh?) Duh.