Paying for Pleasure

Men Who Buy Sex

Teela Sanders

• Publisher: Willan
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9781843923213
• eBook ISBN: 9781134005468
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Criminology
• Index: Social Sciences

Drawing on original empirical data with men who buy sex, this book takes a fresh look at the relationships clients have with female sex workers. The core questions that form the backbone of the research are not only the expected inquiry into 'why men buy sex', but also into the sociological and psychological processes that men encounter in order to enter an assumed 'deviant' sexual behaviour as part of their everyday lives. These sociological processes of finding, negotiating and buying sexual services are complicated by the stigma directed towards men who buy sex. Exactly how do men behave with sex workers; what are their relationships like; what emotions are involved and can intimacy be bought? Questioning the dichotomy made between commercial and non-commercial relationships, the data suggests that intimacy and commerce are compatible. Managing secrecy, stigma and the consumption of intimacy takes this book into some of the more challenging theoretical areas of masculinity and emotional consumption in contemporary society.

Drawing some parallels from the author's earlier book Sex Work: A Risky Business, the book offers insights into why engagement in commercial sex is prolific as sexual culture is transformed in late modernity.

Chapter 1

The genesis of the study

Convention suggests that engaging in the purchase of sexual services is somewhere on the spectrum of ‘deviance’. Notions of men visiting massage parlours or the ‘red light district’ to pay women to perform various sexual services conjures up images of lurid sexual contact in dark and repellent surroundings. Those judges, politicians and celebrities who are caught in compromising positions with ‘hired’ women appear to have flouted civilities, disgraced themselves and shamed their families. Attitudes that negatively frame the purchase of sexual services are bound by mythology about commercial sex, failing to entertain that perhaps commercial sex goes beyond physical release but provides intimacy and pleasure. Myths are supported by strong expectations that commercial sex can only produce hollow and cold sex acts that are momentarily pleasurable, that quickly subside to be replaced by guilt, regret and loneliness. Commercial sexual interactions appear to be sharply at odds with the ‘special’ and ‘pure’ forms of intimacy that modernity upholds as the ultimate goal in personal relationships (see Giddens 1992; Jamieson 1998). We, in the West, are socialized into believing that this ‘pure’ form of intimacy is ‘right’ and ‘proper’, that the only legitimate route to mutually satisfying, healthy relationships is to be found in the ‘comfort zone’ of orthodox sexual relationships. Sexual relationships are only considered ‘proper’ when they are within a committed, long-lasting, monogamous dyad. But are we not dealing with a spectrum of commercial intimate relationships? The ‘trade-offs’ that are evident in extreme cases such as the celebrity marriage between the late Anna Nicole Smith and billionaire oil tycoon J. Howard Marshall, 63 years her senior, are surely predicated partly on an economic exchange? Are there not economic, material and social capital trade-offs in all relationships?

Despite economic exchange as the basis of many forms of relationships, whether explicitly stated or tacitly agreed, anti-prostitution discourses that stigmatize sex workers, and to a lesser extent male clients, are strong in the UK and Northern Europe. The condemnation of many forms of commercial sex (while hypocritically accepting forms such as ‘gentlemen’s clubs’) is not simply sexual conservativeness reacting against a contemporary society awash with the provocative sexualization of almost every cultural manifestation and product. Contradictory beliefs about buying sex have framed our understanding of commercial sex for a long time, and form the point of departure for a book about men who buy sex from women in a commercial context.

There are some initial sociological observations to be raised in this first chapter which explain why a book on men who enter into commercial sexual transactions with women is important and how the findings contribute to a wider understanding of sexuality, relationship formation and sexual culture in contemporary society. These observations connect to broader themes of the book: the diversity of social and sexual stories in late modernity; the transformations in technology, commerce and sex; changes in sexual attitudes and the temporality of mores; the forms and spaces of ‘community’; the spectrum of intimacy, emotional consumption and the false dichotomies between commercial and non-commercial sexual interaction; and sexual citizenship, ‘discourses of respectability’ and the common place of commercial sex in society. These broader social and cultural themes are an important backdrop to understand the complexities of the sex industries and human sexuality.

As I write, direct (purchasing sex acts) and indirect (erotic dancing, telephone sex for example) sexual services in many different markets and forms flourish around the globe (Harcourt and Donovan 2005). The UK escort and parlour markets have been estimated at grossing £534 million yearly earnings, an equivalent expenditure to that spent on visiting the cinema (Moffatt and Peters 2004). One reason for the continued customer base and the growth of commercial sex as part of the entertainment industry is that the sparkling neon lights of the visible erotic landscape present many more possibilities, promote multiple facets of sexual desire and expand the explicitly erotic to an unprecedented level. ‘The media has become sexualized’ (Plummer 1995: 4) leading to the commodification of sex permeating our everyday lives through digital TV channels, high street shops, magazine racks and supermarket aisles. We are surrounded by a sexual culture lead by dominant advertising agencies. Sex subtly becomes part of all aspects of consumerism, leisure (Attwood 2006), work spaces and governance (Phoenix and Oerton 2005). Hawkes (1996: 17) neatly summarizes: ‘In the sexual landscape, desire for sex is ever-present, of no more moral consequence than the desire for food. Like food, this product is prepared and presented in an ever-expanding variety.’ One of the interviewees in this study aptly remarked: ‘We live in a society which is bombarded by sexuality. You can’t buy anything without it being advertised – like Pot Noodles are advertised by sex – you know.’ In a society dominated by ‘sex as culture’, where suggestions of eroticism and insinuations of racialized sexual exoticism sell the obvious perfumes and less obvious commodities such as mobile phones, washing powder and insurance cover, it is somewhat expectable that the desire for sexual interactions, albeit in a commercial exchange, is more visible than ever before.

There are other considerable changes in the sexual and social landscape, or what Plummer (1995: 4) more aptly describes as the ‘erotopian landscape’, that contribute to the expansion and diversification of the sex industry. Mores about sexual acts have changed – what was considered ‘correct’ or ‘proper’ sexual acts at the beginning of the 1900s have altered in the last century (see Gagnon and Simon 1973). Haste (1992) explains how the rules governing sexual desire have been redrawn since the First World War, largely due to the separation of sex from procreation, enabling new possibilities for eroticism to emerge for both sexes. Oral sex is now much more acceptable both as pre-coital foreplay and as a substitute for penetrative sex (Chambers 2007; Shostak 1981) yet continues to be the most popular sex act purchased.¹ Indeed, former president of the United States, Bill Clinton, exalted the act of oral sex to everyday acceptability when he claimed that fellatio was not even full sexual relations in his famous denial statement: ‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman.’ With the acceptance of fellatio and other less orthodox sex acts in ‘ordinary’ heterosexual relationships, it is perhaps surprising that commercial sexual services are still popular for providing a range of sexual services alongside emotional and physical intimacy.

Despite a more liberal repertoire of ‘ordinary’ sexual conduct, the commercial sex industries that provide direct sexual services go way beyond ‘the missionary position’ and oral sex. Domination, fetishisms, role play, romance, touching, kissing, erotic talk, socializing, bondage, massage, sex emporiums, dancing, stripping, tantra, swinging, webcam virtual sex (see Bernstein 2001): the list of desires and matching services that are available at a price is endless and increasingly inventive. The sex markets appear to be both diversifying and specializing as the female sex worker–male client traditional markets become infused with characteristics of modern capitalism (Brents and Hausbeck 2007). Although not the concern of this book, the sex markets are catering for a range of sexualities and sexual orientation. There are various groups of men who sell sex to men: male sex workers for gay, bisexual and straight men (Browne and Minchiello 1995; Gaffney and Beverley 2001; West and Villiers 1992); transgender sex workers (Slamah 1999; Weinberg et al. 1999) and other men who have sex with men for the exchange of a range of commodities. Men sell sexual services to women as ‘cads’, male strippers (Dressel and Petersen 1982) and in various guises as ‘gigolos’ (such as dance teachers) in sex tourism sites such as Cuba and the Caribbean (Cabezas 2004; Sanchez Taylor 2001). The personal adverts in mainstream magazines for lesbian and bisexual women identify that female sex workers do sell sex to women and couples (see Diva for instance). As couples are finding more entertainment venues where mutual sadomasochistic practices can be facilitated and purchased, fetishes once considered subversive are making their way onto the mainstream (see Hoff 2006). Markets are ever-changing to the extent that research and policy has not kept up with the changes and the fluidity of the ways in which sex is sold and sexuality is packaged (Gaffney 2007).

Beyond the cultural recognition of the fluidity of sexuality, there are clear tensions between the state’s willingness to embrace human rights and the freedom to express sexuality and the need to control certain types of sexual ‘pleasures’. Men, and to a lesser extent women, buying sexual services are somewhat outside the construction of intimate citizenship and ‘respectability’ that is an underlining feature of New Labour rhetoric on how the model citizen should conduct their life. On the one hand, recent changes to allow civil partnerships between gay couples demonstrate significant shifts in institutional thinking about diversity, sexuality and family life. Yet, under the Sexual Offences Act 2003, it is now a public offence of indecent exposure if caught having sex outside in a public place. Further desire to constrain the sex lives of individuals is evident in the Consultation: On the Possession of Extreme Pornographic Material introduced by the Home Office in 2005. Sexuality and sexual behaviour continues to be a point of tension where definitions of ‘pleasure’ and how they should be policed are at the heart of institutional and organization change.

The ‘pleasures’ associated with commercial sex are contested in moral debate, pragmatic policing and the law. For example, the political desire to prevent certain types of prostitution (namely street based) which are framed as ‘harms’ are at the forefront of recent policy that aims to ‘disrupt the sex markets’ (Home Office 2006). At the same time, there is less political will to interfere in the private sexual lives of consenting adults by outlawing the sale or purchase of commercial sex, while some forms (such as lap dancing) have seen unprecedented expansions into every night-time entertainment district in UK towns and cities (Jones et al. 2003). Hence, because of the complexity of the law (some would say contradictions), managing activities like commercial sex occurs on a spectrum between law enforcement (with many variants) to that of self-regulation. Kagan (1984: 45, cited in Miers 2004: 337) assesses that markets are more likely to be regulated rather than policed with a view to enforcement if the benefits to society outweigh the costs: ‘In the case of regulated business [however] their offences, even if irresponsible or socially harmful in and of themselves, are more likely to be viewed as negligent, non-malicious side effects of socially useful activities.’ This leads us to suggest that the policing of pleasure and its associated industries may fluctuate according to perceptions of commercial sex as socially useful or inevitable, therefore warranting less formal styles of control.

The lack of regulation over the UK brothel industry and the indoor sex markets in general is a case that testifies to the ‘self-regulation’ argument as the moral and practical will to ban such sex work venues is absent (Sanders and Campbell 2007b). One interpretation suggests that the absence of law enforcement and law reform relating to brothels, while directly rendering women vulnerable to violence and exploitation, is also an implicit acceptance that some forms of sex work provide a positive social function and should continue to exist.² Yet in formal policy (see Chapter 7), the government constructs commercial sex not as a ‘pleasure’ to be regulated but as a social harm. Unlike countries such as New Zealand and Australia, the UK government has chosen a management style that opts for strict law enforcement for certain markets (street) and virtual non-regulation of others as the ‘harm’ argument is arbitrarily applied to suit political and moral agendas.

The tensions surrounding commercial sex and how it is managed can be traced back to the general template for intimate citizenship. It is difficult for any government to operationalize the reality of sexual relations for many people. Despite the radical and religious right promoting a conservative sex ethic, the monogamous, long-term heterosexual relationship is no longer the defining feature of modern Western sexual relationships (Roseneil 2007).³ Sex lives are not homogenous and the experience of sex with a stranger is not a rare event for some, and no doubt a point of recollection for many readers. Accounts of one night stands and other temporary relations suggest that liaisons with strangers can be immensely erotic and satisfying – sexual and emotional pleasure between adults is not predicated on knowing someone ‘inside out’ or for a set amount of time, or commonalities such as age, ethnicity, language or sexual orientation. Sexual and emotional intimacy leading to fulfilment is not the sacred property of only conventional relationships that have civic and/or religious approval. In much of the West it seems that when commerce is introduced to sex other issues immediately take precedence: issues of tradition and morality override the strength of attraction, difference, need and intimacy. Which political party included in their manifesto definitive plans to sanction when and where consenting adults should find satisfying sex?

While I paint a scenario that lends itself to the varied nature of contemporary sexual conduct predicated on a concoction of sexual and relational difference, a point of clarification made throughout the book is that buying sexual services is not always about strangers engaging in sexual acts. Chapter 5 describes strong trends that establish how men become regular clients to the same sex worker(s), forming conventional relationships beyond the sexual but within the commercial context. Taking the lead from Bernstein (2001), I describe how intimacy is not exempt from the commercial sexual experience, but for some an essential part of the criteria and satisfaction of commercial liaisons. Western formal politics promotes conventional sexual intimacy and citizenship of a certain kind, pushing commercial sexual services to the margins of acceptability to the extent that it is generally a taboo topic or unacceptable unless under specific cultural conditions such as stag parties, birthday celebrations or a ‘boys’ night out’.

The politics of researching ‘punters’

In recent years, when I have presented at conferences or raised issues with policy-makers about men who buy sexual services, I have often been met with a mix of reactions ranging from genuine perplexed questions, quiet disdain, or spineless scoffing at the value of such a subject. While Plummer (1995: 4) eloquently describes how ‘telling your sexual story’ in contemporary Western culture is performed in endless ways and through endless mediums (from pop songs to ‘reveal all’ talk shows), the story of the man who purchases sexual services has not been a topic exploited by the media in the way that stories of infidelity or abuse have been exposed. Men do not come forward because of their preference for secrecy and also because the stigma attached to buying sex is intensifying. In the academic corridors of research, where we expect a commitment to discovering knowledge and pushing the boundaries of what has already been established (especially among scholars of human sexuality), negative attitudes of suspicion and distaste towards men who buy sex still prevails. I am not alone in experiencing rejection based on the subject matter. Don Kulick (2005: 225), upon presenting a critical analysis of the Swedish legal changes that criminalize the buying of sex, describes how audiences displayed ‘unsettledness’, resulting in persistent requests that he stated ‘his agenda’ in order to justify the research.

Men who buy sex are seen by some extremists to be the perpetrators of oppressive acts, or indeed in some people’s minds those responsible for a culture that accepts violence against women. In the radical view of commercial sex, the basic premise is that sex work is an act of violence against women whether there is consent between adults or not. Men are considered to seek out paid-for sex entirely because of power and their dominant social and economic position. Sometimes this view rejects the legitimacy of the study of male clients because of men’s perceived immorality, dangerousness or criminality. Even writers who are not as extreme in their thinking still (usually silently) have issues with men being pushed onto the agenda in research. In their opinion, any research funding, journal airspace, conference papers or media outputs that speak about men who buy sex is diverting the focus away from the exploitation, harm and dangers associated with selling sex. Researching male clients is assumed to go hand in hand with a positive blanket agreement that the sex industry should be legitimized: researchers who do engage in studying clients are considered to be anti-feminist and in favour of loose sexual mores (Kulick 2005). Where a switch in research focus has been considered acceptable, it is usually when there is a call for more knowledge about men who buy sex for the purposes of further criminalization. Sometimes men who buy sex are considered a legitimate target for research only if the agenda is to eradicate prostitution. It is this background of academic conservatism, moral entrepreneurialism and radicalism that this research attempts to balance. Men who buy sex are as legitimate a topic as women who sell sex in the quest to find a system that enables safe commercial sexual interactions between consenting adults. Apart from that, men who buy sex tell us much about human sexuality and the human condition in general.

The traditional absence of the male client

Despite a plethora of knowledge about the sex industry, in particular the street sex markets, the historical concentration of research has been overwhelmingly on women who sell sex. This has its origins in the state control of prostitution: the legal aspect of prostitution has traditionally concentrated on women who sell sex and not the men who buy (see Self 2003). Until very recently, commentary has focused on women’s sexuality and not men’s because of an explicit acceptability that men who buy sex are doing what is ‘natural’. A Royal Commission report in 1871 stated:

We may at once dispose of [any recommendation] founded on the principle of putting both parties to the sin of fornication on the same footing by the obvious but not less conclusive reply that there is no comparison to be made between prostitutes, and men who consort with them. With the one sex the offence is committed as a matter of gain; with the other it is an irregular indulgence of a natural impulse. (Cited in Goodall 1995: 47)

Scrutiny of male clients has traditionally been protected by the power of religious doctrine, medical discourses and the law as their involvement in seeking out sex has been considered a legitimate, if crude, biological necessity. Women’s sexuality, as seen in the quote above, has been targeted because of its doubly deviant nature: working as a ‘prostitute’ goes against many laws and the ideology of ‘proper’ femininity and ‘acceptable’ womanly conduct. Public health discourse, medical practices and state regulations continued to view women in the sex industry as ‘carriers of disease’ in the nineteenth Century, amid concerns f...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Halftitle
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Preface
• Chapter 1: The genesis of the study
• Chapter 2: Researching men who buy sex
• Chapter 3: Client conduct: motivations, markets and morality
• Chapter 4: Buying sex online: virtual regulation
• Chapter 5: Buying intimacy: pleasure, commerce and the self
• Chapter 6: Against respectability: stigma, secrecy and the self
• Chapter 7: Criminalizing the customer: moral messages
• Chapter 8: Moral panic: the ‘punter’ as danger
• Chapter 9: Shifting sexual cultures, moving masculinities
• Appendix: List of interviewees
• Bibliography
• Index