LET THE RIGHT ONE IN!!
ROBB J ROGAN lets his fingers do the talking ... about
the commercial realities of sex in Sydney
where paying for sex
is increasingly the path to wedded bliss, or at the very least,
years of down-to-earth contentment ...
“... Brothels have taken many of the next steps
in marketing themselves. Sophisticated flash
websites
display glossy-magazine-style images of figure-perfect females
of every nationality. Many
brothels around the Surry Hills
area have "launch" nights, where businessmen enjoy canapes,
fine wines and boutique beers in the company of leggy foxy dames,
most of whom the average
man would marry in a moment if not for
the reality of the situation. ..."
In Australia, where sex for money is legal, the
rate of HIV infection among female prostitutes is so low
that prostitution
has been removed from the list of known risk factors in HIV surveillance.
In the USA,
reliable data is more difficult to come by, but a 1987
Centers for Disease Control study likewise
found very low infection
rates among prostitutes.
It's no great surprise to find these figures
so low, because it's becoming increasingly clear that just like
much
of Sydney's previously decaying urban real estate, prostitution
too has become "gentrified" (no pun intended).
Nowadays your typical Sydney hooker is likely to
be a very intelligent, dynamic business or law student,
out to make
some quick bucks because she doesn't have the time or patience to
work in some shitty
hospitality gig for fifteen bucks an hour.
Gone is the stereotype of the chain-smoking junkie
on heroin or crystal meth fucking blankly, anonymously
and unsafely
in a darkened drug-paraphernalia-filled room.
Horny young guys too square to know better may have
been prowling the pubs wondering where all the
good-looking / hot
babes have gone? Sure, many have married themselves off into suburbia,
but maybe
that shy square guy should dare to take a walk on the wild
side. Enter any Sydney strip club and the place
is filled to overflowing
with plastic-perfect females, overwhelmingly students, hanging around
and
disrobing at every available opportunity to make some quick cash.
At the next level, many of these so called archetypally
beautiful women have long-since taken the next
step and "advanced"
to working in semi-classy brothels, which charge anywhere from $160
to $280 per hour for "full service".
The only glass ceiling in this industry is in the
brothels' bedrooms.
Brothels have taken many of the next steps in marketing
themselves. Sophisticated flash (again no pun
intended) websites
display glossy-magazine-style images of figure-perfect females of
every nationality.
Many brothels
around the Surry Hills area have "launch" nights, where
businessmen enjoy canapes,
fine wines and boutique beers in the company
of leggy
foxy dames, most of whom the average man
would marry in a moment
if not for the reality of the situation.
But then again, the smartest young men have already
been there, doing just that.
Why, they're thinking to themselves, waste stacks
of money on expensive drinks in a bar trying to chat
up "up-themselves"
random strangers, or spend on endless further dinners out at luxurious
restaurants,
when a young buck can fast-meet a very cute young female,
who simply
isn't at those pubs or
bars anyway? Okay, there's a fairly hefty
"introduction fee", but the young buck then has the chance
to show
off his sexual skills, all with the aim of winning the pleasured
approval of his concubine, who
may, if she's suitably "taken" with
his prowess, pass on her phone number, or at the very least, take
his business
card ... and a few days later, bored and lonely, might just send
him a text message?
And so the game of love goes on, postmodern post-2000
style.
Some would say that's sad, some would say it's sick,
and some would say it's a sorry reflection of today's
society. And
they'd be right. But is it much more pathetic than internet dating?
Or even dating itself, the
endless charades of cliche courting rituals,
the nonsense of St Valentine's Day, the silly sameness
of candle-lit
dinners at romantic restaurants - all a conformist pantomime stretching
nauseatingly
on forever across the miles and generations.
The relationship has become a commodity to be consumed
- a capitalist construct to be conspicuously
shown off. A gargantuan
garish gargoyle of restricted eroticism which ultimately, if left
to run
the its most conventional, conservative and conformist courses,
leaves a woman dry
and a man impotent and emasculated.
Hetero males intent on saving for that mortgage,
or embroiled in the neverland of it, may well envy the
price point
their gay cousins enjoy as they waft into gay sex saunas, pay their
fifteen bucks, and
then proceed to have sex with any bi husband they
might fancy that moment.
But for a hetero man, the female possesses a warm
wet inviting place that has no substitute. They might try
to substitute
cigarettes, or booze, or cocaine, or sport, but ultimately, for a
typical male, if there is such a
thing, the female pussy is "home".
Unless they happen to be French, because as my dear friend Jean-Paul
once confessed to me in a whisper, when referring to the female anus,
"for us French, zat eez 'ome".
Each to their 'ome I guess.
His very cute Australian girlfriend really couldn't help, after a
glass or
two
of wine, but complain that she really wasn't used to that sort
of activity and he really was tooooo biiiiigggggg
...... but she
was in love with him and very happy for many years, before he took
off back to his home
country and she settled down to a more normal
life - of more conventional sex with a strapping Australian
artist,
the result being a gorgeous daughter just a couple of years later.
Hookers and Escorts of Australia? Relax, tonight
may be the night you meet "The One". As I'm sure you're
already aware, just ... waiting ... for him to choose you ...