On January 25th I wrote a post regarding the countries first, legal male prostitute also known as “The Prositude”. (Prostidude – Male prostitute; man whore; male slut; gigolo) If you liked that, you’ll love this… Enjoy
Who would hire the first legal male hooker in the country? A desperate spinster? A lonely divorcee? A New York Post reporter on undercover assignment? Hmmmm….
Answer: All of the above. This month, as Nevada anointed the country’s first-ever legal male prostitute — in the form of “Markus,” a 25-year-old beefy ex-Marine — it became incredibly clear that one thing had to happen immediately.
The Post had to have a go at this gigolo.
A US newspaper reporter Mandy Stadtmiller has gone where no female journalist has gone before – she hired the first legal male hooker in America, then wrote about it.
A $500 cash advance, an overnight flight to Vegas and a 2 1/2-hour car ride later, I arrive at the brothel. I’m sweaty, stinky and pumped from listening to “lite-romance” radio. Because truly: Nothing gets you in the mood for a legal male hooker like “Wind Beneath My Wings.”
At 3 p.m., I arrive at the appropriately titled Shady Lady Ranch for my two-hour booking (Prices: $200 for 40 minutes, $300 for one hour. And sorry, ladies — he can’t go back to back “because he puts so much into it”). The scene: mostly dust, sunlight and sadness. That, and the occasional sign about the importance of using latex condoms. “Markus” (real name: Patrick) greets me in glasses, a satin blue shirt and slacks, and leads me to a bedroom where we sit opposite each other as I fumble for the cash out of my “Precious Moments” pocketbook.
“You shouldn’t feel bad about sex; it’s God’s gift to man,” says Markus the male gigolo. “If you do it right, it’s really a gift.” “People you meet at a bar aren’t honest.” Markus explains the advantage of hiring him over using that very basic female privilege of being able to walk down the street and find a willing partner in two seconds. “I’m cleaner than 90 percent of the people you meet at a bar.”
“First thing we do is visual inspection,” explains the dorky college dropout who later confesses I am only his second client, he has been with a total of six women in his life, and, to be perfectly honest, he lost his virginity at 23. “So,” Markus says after leaning over and kissing my knee, “we’re going to get undressed and then take a shower. Then we can both inspect each other to make sure there are no discrepancies.”
When The Post’s Mandy Stadtmiller asked the first legal gigolo Markus “if it made him feel cheap to be bought,” he replied: “No. I thoroughly enjoy it.” Minutes later, as we’re standing naked in the shower, he’s examining me like a second-rate gynecologist and nodding. “Yeah,” he murmurs, cooing that I’m “practically” an 8 or a 9. “Everything looks great down there.”
Oh. My. God.
Over the next two hours, Markus shares his personal bits, too. Originally from Hatton, Ala., he felt abandoned by his mother after his parents divorced at an early age. (This is why, he says, he got into male prostitution, to find the intimacy that he lacked.) In addition to comparing himself to civil rights pioneer Rosa Parks (“I’m breaking through sexual segregation”), he also identifies with Lady Gaga (“I’m a performer”), van Gogh (“I’m an artist”) and Moby (“I’m an eccentric”). Before becoming America’s first legal “prosti-dude,” Markus dabbled in porn while he lived in Los Angeles but quit after just two scenes because he found it too degrading to women.
He may enjoy watching “Dr. Phil,” but hooker Markus advises women who have sexual issues, “I’d rather you pay a lover to make you feel good rather than pay a psychologist to fill you up with mumbo jumbo.”
And her conclusion at the end of the fact-finding experiment? Not good. “It was like a bad second date,” she wrote in the New York Post. “That cost $500.” ( Source)