As the grey skies of the UK disappeared beneath the clouds, I sat on the plane considering what the next few weeks’ holiday in Thailand held in store.
Clean-shaven in my smart travel clothes, clutching the latest Dan Brown novel, you might have assumed, as a solo passenger, that I was travelling for work.
But this was no business trip, and it wasn’t the prospect of sunshine, sand and cheap cocktails that filled me with anticipation; it was the promise of no-strings sex on tap. All I would have to do was take out my wallet.
At 32, I’m a single professional working in the property industry, and rent a modern city-centre apartment. I play five-a-side football, enjoy a few pints with friends in the evening and visit my parents when I have a free weekend. So far, so normal.
You’d never imagine I’m a secret sex tourist.
Yet several times a year, I leave behind my unremarkable public persona to become a walking taboo: a man who jets off abroad to sleep with sex workers.
I’ve spent close to £15,000 on sex tourism over the past three years, including travel and accommodation, using my savings and credit cards.
Contrary to the prevailing belief that men who pay for sex are old, lonely and tragic types, in my experience it’s men in their 20s and 30s who are most likely to pay for sex. And the statistics show as many as two-thirds of us have done so while abroad.
‘Several times a year, I leave behind my unremarkable public persona to become a walking taboo: a man who jets off abroad to sleep with sex workers,’ writes Kevin McBray (picture posed by models)
You’ll probably be shocked – maybe even disgusted – to learn there’s a network of British men like me communicating through WhatsApp groups, online forums and social media. We share advice and recommendations on how, and where, to indulge in our passion for paid-for sex abroad.
Despite what you may be assuming, I grew up the middle child of a normal, happy family. My parents, both retired, are still married and I have two sisters. I’m an uncle three times over.
I found my teen years difficult; I was bullied for being overweight, which impacted my self-confidence, but I got through it and always felt loved and happy at home.
I’ve had a few short-term relationships since losing my virginity at 20. But I’m naturally quite shy and I’ve never had much luck with the fairer sex.
I enjoyed sex when I had it, although I admit I wasn’t particularly ‘skilled’. I envied friends who seemed to have no problems charming women into bed.
Not that I ever planned to pay for sex instead. That happened by chance on a stag weekend to Amsterdam in 2022 when I was 28.
A group of us got drunk and ended up in the city’s infamous Red Light District. When someone suggested we visit a brothel ‘for a laugh’, initially I declined.
I’d never considered visiting a sex worker before. I didn’t have particularly strong views about it, I’d just never imagined myself in that situation.
But after a few more drinks I got carried away, agreeing to join the group who were heading to one of the city’s brothels, which are legal there. It was a first for them, too.
After the lockdowns of the previous two years, which I’d spent living alone, it had been more than two years since I’d slept with anyone.
‘Why the hell not?’ I remember thinking, the Dutch courage kicking in.
Once inside the brothel, the woman made me feel at ease and the sex, in a small room containing just a bed, sink and chair, was more adventurous than I’d experienced before.
I enjoyed the feeling of becoming another man entirely. Even though I knew I was paying for her ‘desire’, I liked how she made me feel.
The next morning the other lads laughed about it being a ‘one-off’, joking: ‘What goes on tour, stays on tour’.
But I was hooked. I couldn’t stop thinking about how straightforward and sexually satisfying the experience had been, and all for only around £100.
Morally, I knew what I’d done was open to debate, but I reasoned I hadn’t caused anyone any harm.
Back home, I began researching places where I could have a similar experience abroad the next time I was off work.
I was surprised to find there was no shortage of websites and social media pages about popular sex tourism destinations, filled with recommendations for bars and brothels, and advice on what you should expect to pay.
I wasn’t interested in using sex workers in the UK. While it’s not illegal to pay for sex here if both adults are consenting and it’s conducted in private, I didn’t want to risk the damage to my reputation if anyone found out.
Also, I’d really enjoyed the escapism of being in a different location and emboldened to behave in a way I wouldn’t at home. The taboo nature of it was part of the thrill.
In early 2023, I had a few weeks off work before starting a new role. That’s when I first flew to the Thai beach resort of Pattaya, a very popular destination for men like me.
While I knew prostitution is, officially, illegal in Thailand, a blind eye is largely turned to it by the authorities in Pattaya, which is located 150km from the capital Bangkok.
Family and friends believed I was going solo backpacking and waved me off, clueless to the fact my wash bag was stuffed with condoms and my phone’s search history filled with the names of recommended bars and massage parlours.
Staying in a four-star hotel, over the course of two weeks I had sex with six women. I met them in local bars, where men were buying sex in plain sight. You chat, buy them a drink, maybe play a game of pool and then negotiate a price for her to come back to the hotel for a ‘short’ or ‘long’ time.
I also had a massage with a ‘happy ending’ while I was there.
I realise how sleazy this sounds. But I always used a condom, and tipped the women I slept with well; sex costs around £100 for a full night depending on what bar you go to, but I added extra.
Prostitution is officially illegal in Thailand, but a blind eye is largely turned to it by the authorities in Pattaya (pictured)
Kevin first paid for sex in Amsterdam’s Red Light District on a stag weekend in 2022 when he was 28
I did all the usual touristy things too: swam, read, explored the area, enjoyed the food.
But I must admit getting ready to head out to a bar, a wad of Thai currency in my wallet and knowing all I had to do was agree a price before a night of fun was mine, was the biggest thrill. It actually became a little addictive.
On that trip, I met several other British men, ranging from their thirties to fifties, who were very open about why they were there. Several were young professionals like me, men who you’d never have guessed were sex tourists. Some were single but I also met men with wives and girlfriends back home who believed they were on work or golfing trips.
They added me to a WhatsApp group and we’ve stayed in touch since; it’s saved as ‘Golf Buddies’ on my phone.
We’ve discussed the assumption that younger men shouldn’t ‘need’ to pay for sex, that we should be able to attract women on our own merit.
But it’s not always that easy.
I’m pragmatic enough to know I’m not incredibly sexy or charismatic. Women don’t throw themselves at me.
Plus, British women my age are incredibly choosy – I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but it does make it hard to meet their high standards.
When paying for sex, though, there’s no swiping on apps, small talk on dates and worrying about my performance in bed.
Since that first trip I’ve been back to Thailand three times and also taken shorter trips to Berlin and Amsterdam.
I’m not stupid; I know the women I have sex with are poor and sex work is far from an ideal way to earn a living. I’ve had battles with my conscience about that. But I tell myself that depriving myself of the pleasure isn’t going to change anything – this world they inhabit will carry on.
At least, I reason, I pay well and they are safe with me; I would never dream of treating anyone badly.
Ironically, becoming a sex tourist has given me more confidence with women in my normal life. I find making conversation easier now and deep down I feel like a more interesting person knowing I have this clandestine double life, even if I can’t reveal my secret.
Last year, I downloaded some dating apps and had a few dates. I slept with two of the women – using protection of course – although it was strange when no money changed hands and I did feel under more pressure to impress them.
Friends my age are starting to settle down and I’d like to do that too one day. But I’m in no rush, as it would spell the end of my secret trips. I wouldn’t want to lie about my travels to a wife or girlfriend and I’d be mortified at the thought of anyone knowing the truth about my ‘holidays’. It would destroy my life.
For now, though, with no one special in my life, my travels continue. Sun, sea and secret sex await me.
Kevin McBray is a pseudonym. Identifying details have been changed.
AS TOLD TO EIMEAR O’HAGAN
