Male Host Bar in Singapore

“What is a girl like you doing here on a Friday night? How can you not have a date?”

A Stephan Fung look-alike asked me. Knowing it is his job to flatter the ladies regardless; I still can’t help but believe that was a sincere compliment.

Stephen Fung

A week before, I asked my girlfriend if she wanted to check out a Male Host Bar in Singapore with me. It isn’t a place where men are surrounded by ladies and get to slap the asses and treat women as sexual objects but women with the money hold the “slapping” power. To put it crudely, some call it a duck den (working girls are called chicken in Asia).

With high expectations to see some real sleaze last Friday, I was dripping with anticipation. I opened up my wardrobe and thought of dressing to the nines since it’s a rare occasion that I go out after dark. Then I thought, “Wait a minute, why do I need to dress up when I am going to a lady’s bar? Regardless of what I wear or how I look, the men are bound to fly to me like bees to honey.”

Like a sugar mummy, literally.

Looking back at my reflection, I can’t help but admit I am a little excited at this empowerment of role reversal. I put down my mascara wand and removed my make-up, fantasize on the scenarios that await me. The clock struck ten; I jumped into the car to pick my wing girl up.

“Wait up!” I shouted to my friend. She is even more excited than me.

We approached the 2 white stone lions at its entrance and looked up sheepishly at the bouncer. As nonchalantly as I can muster, I casually waved my hand and asked, “How does this work? Do we need to pay cover?”

I had to stop myself from asking if the drinks are expensive inside because that’s what I heard and I am a stingy mummy.

The very amiable pimp with his pink pony tail and ripped jeans seemed excited with the knowledge that this was our "virgin" night. Ahh, fresh blood always excites night crawlers.

He eagerly invited us in, assuring us if we didn’t like it, we could walk out.

As the heavy wooden Oriental doors were pushed open, a karaoke hall greets us. With velvet couches in plush red hues in a semi-circle facing a brightly lit stage, it wasn’t that big of a venue despite its impressive entrance. There were 3 private karaoke rooms at the back and a bar counter that is filled with sashes and fake flower lays.

Still feeling shy, we chose an inconspicuous corner and we sat down. The hour was still early and so the club was empty except for our table and another 2 filled with large groups of women in their thirties. I could feel the men's eyes watching us as we entered and even as they walk pass our table, I could see them checking us out. Probably taking note if we are wearing expensive watches or carrying branded handbags.

So this is how a man feel when a woman is overly concerned about his job, house and car.

The pink haired papa-san sent 2 boys our way. I assumed that any working male who came to talk to us is chargeable so I was guarded and kept words to the bare minimum. My jaw only relaxed after knowing that’s not how it works. We both ordered 2 mugs of beer ($12 each). The cheapest on the menu, we didn’t want to seem cheapskate for not ordering anything. A jug costs $35, house pours $18 and bottles $200 and above.

I got the Stephan Fung look-alike, my unlucky friend got a Chinese who looks less than average. I did a quick sweep around the club and these were the quality of men around.

Local TV Yuan Shuai look-alike

Local TV look-alike Dai Yang Tian

F4 member

They are all at least 1.7m tall, fair and dressed in suits. They all seem to fit a certain look, the pretty boy type and not the muscular or sporty sort. They all have the same hairstyle too, long and swept to the side. Perhaps the current flavour is the Korean pop star pretty boy. Most are Chinese on a 6 month visa (i don't know what sort of visa, is it a social pass, employment pass or ?), with one or two Singaporeans or Thais.

My Stephen Fung look-alike is on day 6 of his new job. He has a white collar day job and the night job was to supplement his income in caring for his aged parents. It did tugged at my heart strings and i almost bought him a flower.

At a male host bar, the working men do not get paid an hourly or monthly salary. Instead they earn from the commission when you buy/present them flowers. Flowers start from $50 and can go up to as much as you please. Female patrons have spent thousands in a night, homosexuals too. It's akin to a tip in appreciation for their time to sit and chat with you, for their talents in singing and dancing, and some say "special services".

If you fancy any looker and want to date him on a working night, you can pay $150 for each hour you take him off work early.

Normal conversations ensued with the Stephen Fung look-alike. He kept clinking glass with me in an effort to make me drink=spend more but i gave the excuse of being the designated driver. All the other patrons are well-behaved and stayed in their seats. "Not intoxicated enough", my boy told me. Loud giggles can be heard as they drank more.

I bumped into a bespectacled woman in the bathroom. She kept her head down and seemed awfully shy.  Probably too shy to get any men's attention outside and thus seek it inside the bar. Stephen Fung look-alike asked me why did i use my real name, i shrugged my shoulders. Did the girls who come here feel ashamed of their hobby? Do they all use fake personas or become a different vixen as soon as they push open those Oriental doors?

Getting bored with the entertainment on stage as well as the conversation between me and the boy, i asked "why is it all Mandarin songs being sung on stage?" He told me a pole dance (by men) will start at 1am and most of the working men are not well versed in English. When it was his turn to sing (he is a Singaporean), he told me he picked an English song specially for me.

I'm sure he didn't intend me to feel this way but my hair stood for he was trying too hard. He picked Aerosmith's "Don't want to Miss a thing" and while singing on stage, he tried to mesmerize me with his eyes.

The girl designated to push the sale of flowers came to sit beside me while my boy was singing on stage and asked if i would show my support for $50 or more. I unabashedly shook my head. I was curious enough to check such a place out, but not desperate enough to buy company. Respectful enough, she did not push me for a sale. My boy must be disappointed because he told me earlier it's depressing when customers don't buy flowers. Not so much because of the money, but it was an ego buster.

Men are men after all, regardless if they are degrading themselves or not.

It is debatable, if such a job is degrading. Sex for money is not discussed at this bar but you do not rule out the possibility. It is a direct private arrangement between the boy and the patron, and it's a grey area of the law. Most would go for the companionship, the Boyfriend Experience even. They exchange numbers with the patrons. In the day, they can go out on dates (where the girl possibly pays, sugar mummy remember?) and any time the patrons need some affection or a listening ear, there is the number to dial. The boys are building up their regulars, it is is a form of CRM, customer relationship management. To keep the ladies patronizing the club, buying flowers and drinking even if there's no sex.

After all, women are emotional creatures. I am not at the age or stage where i need this sort of entertainment, but i got to admit i did enjoy my time there. Sipping a $12 mug of beer, the one boy and his papa-san made me feel comfortable and at ease.

I left at 12.45am, i did not stay long enough to see the pole-dance nor scandalous scenes. What a perfect excuse to check it out a second time!