The difference between men and women? When men pay for prostitutes, they want sex. When women pay for gigoros, they want romance and flirting.
Cigarette smoke hangs thick in the air of a Tokyo nightspot as Aki Nitta sips champagne with a trio of sweet-talking Lotharios peddling fake love at premium rates.
In a country which has lost its mojo, many wealthy Japanese women spend eye-watering sums on male hosts in return for an evening of sweet talk, flirting — and often sex.
“I want my heart to flutter,” Nitta told AFP at a popular club in the Kabukicho red-light district lined with chrome and mirrors.
“Japanese men aren’t very attentive and don’t show their feelings, but hosts treat you like a princess. I want to be pampered and I don’t care how much it costs,” she adds. […]
But some big-spenders splurge over $100,000 in a single night to have their egos stroked by smooth-talking rental Romeos who themselves can earn five times that amount in a good month.
There’s a lucrative ROI in Japan for any man who has Game.
Many women — ranging from 20-somethings to those in their sixties — lavish expensive gifts on their favourite hosts, buying them diamond watches, luxury cars, even apartments.
“When I was 20 a customer bought me a Porsche,” said former host Sho Takami, who owns a chain of clubs and likens a host’s role to that of a psychiatrist, with benefits.
LOL a gigolo’s job is basically a therapist for ronery women.
“It’s important the customer believes there’s a chance of love. After all that’s how you get her to come to the club and spend money,” Takami explained.
Game 101: Flip the script. Make the woman chase you. “So you’re saying I have a chance!”, she shrieked with delight.
Around 260 of those are located in Tokyo, most squeezed into Kabukicho’s narrow streets where flickering neon signs display the air-brushed faces of hosts outside clubs with names such as Romeo, Gatsby and Avalon.
You see, Japan does multiculturalism right: Don’t let the alien riff raff in; just appropriate their iconic characters from literature and make them your own.
Japan’s hosts, denizens of the night instantly recognisable by their spray tans, crimped long hair and tight-fitting suits, are often accused of preying on women’s emotions.
See how this game is played by the gynecracy? Pathologize male sexuality while casting women forever in the role of victims to predatory men. A simple rhetorical reframe is the best defense: Do female prostitutes prey on men’s libidos?
“We’re selling them dreams, so you lie about loving them in return for serious money,” added the 38-year-old club manager, freshly blow-dried and shirt open to reveal a medallion.
“Hosts exist to fill a void in someone’s life,” he said. “In this business, the host is the product. We pamper to a woman’s every need — listen to her problems, tell her she’s beautiful, act out her fantasies.”
This confirms a Chateau observation about the continental races: Beta Romantic Game works better with super-K-selected women like the Japanese. It also confirms another CH maxim: women are like doge shite; the older they get the easier they are to pick up.
With harsher restrictions on opening hours, regular police checks and far less ‘yakuza’ gangster involvement, the host business has cleaned up its shady image in recent years.
But the promise of sex is still dangled as bait in a cutthroat industry, admits Ichijo, whose plush apartment screams bling.
Within these stories if you read closely you can see the outlines of a future sexual market taking shape in Western and Westernized nations. It’s very Houellebecqian and Heartistian.
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