The Men Behind the Stats: An Exposé

A Year of Looking More Closely at the Company I Keep

I bet you thought I'd finally exhausted my spreadsheets. Think again. Apparently, I’m not quite finished milking them.

After publishing The Year in Stats, I found myself poking around the data just one more time. That's the thing about spreadsheets: they have a sneaky habit of answering the question you asked, then revealing another one you hadn't even thought of.

This time, I wasn't interested in bookings, hotels, or the alarming amount of money I've donated to Wilson Parking.

I was interested in the people.

When you spend your days meeting men in hotel rooms, there’s one question in particular that’s on everyone’s lips:

What are your clients actually like?

It's a fair question. And judging by the way clients are portrayed in films, television and the media, it's easy to see why people are curious.

If popular culture is to be believed, clients tend to fall into one of a few predictable categories:

Awkward young virgins,

Dangerous drug dealers,

Slimy politicians,

Lonely old men,

Or obscenely wealthy businessmen who order a warm body the way the rest of us order Uber Eats.

After analysing an entire year of bookings (and, more importantly, after spending many years getting to know the men behind them), I can confidently say these stereotypes bear very little resemblance to the people who actually walk through my hotel door.

The reality?

Most clients are remarkably... ordinary.

And I mean that as the highest compliment.

They have careers, families, mortgages, school pick-ups, ageing parents, and the same mixture of hopes, worries and insecurities the rest of us carry around. The longer I do this job, the harder it becomes to separate "clients" from "everyone else."

Because, in truth, they are everyone else.

I think many clients assume they’re the only “normal one” and the rest of my clients must be the dirty, grimy underbelly of society.

Wrong.

If you'll indulge me in another excursion into spreadsheet territory, I'd like to introduce you to the men behind the statistics.

The Average Client Isn't Who You Think

So... who actually books an escort?

Probably someone a lot like your neighbour. Or your colleague. Or the Dad standing next to you on Saturday morning at Little Athletics.

When I pulled together the demographics from the past year, the results were wonderfully ordinary. Nearly three-quarters of my clients fell somewhere between their twenties and forties, with men in their thirties making up the single largest group.

Don’t get me wrong, some of my favourite bookings are shared with older gentlemen enjoying their golden years. But the vast majority of my workday is spent with ordinary adults, navigating ordinary adult lives.

If I had to describe the average client in a single sentence, I'd probably say: He's around my own age, works hard, and is trying to juggle the same responsibilities as everyone else.

Occupation-wise, there really wasn't a "type" either. My client list includes tradies, FIFO workers, engineers, truck drivers, office workers, business owners, healthcare professionals, IT specialists, hospitality workers, teachers, students, and just about everything in between. Some earn exceptional incomes. Others save up for weeks because seeing me is something they've deliberately chosen to prioritise. Strip away the booking itself, and they're mostly just regular people trying to meet emotional, physical or social needs in a way that works for them.

Now of course, my data must be heavily impacted by my placement within the market. I land firmly in the “midrange” of rates, so naturally, I attract more of the “Every Man” than a high-end escort would. I’m really very thankful for that. One of the perks of marketing myself as the girl-next-door is that my average client is the guy-next-door, and that, to me, is incredibly hot. Give me a hardworking, brass-knuckles, down-to-earth man any day!

While I didn’t formally track marital status in my spreadsheets, my best estimate is that around 60% of my clients have a wife or long-term partner waiting at home. That statistic will undoubtedly make some readers uncomfortable, and I understand why. Relationships are complicated, and every person's reasons for booking a sex worker are deeply personal.

I've learnt not to make assumptions. Some are in loving marriages that have become sexually incompatible. Some are navigating illness, disability or dead bedrooms. Others simply compartmentalise this part of their lives in a way that sits right with them. Their stories are as varied as the people themselves.

And I’m the last person to judge. I, myself, am a sex worker in a committed monogam-ish relationship. And I say “monogam-ish” to placate the naysayers who claim that my job makes a mockery of monogamy. To most people (and indeed most men), the idea of a monogamist sex worker is probably an oxymoron.

My partner and I see it differently. To us, work is work and home is home, and it’s just fine if not everyone agrees with us. At the end of the day, the only two opinions that matter in our relationship are our own. My point is that relationships are nuanced, and I’m sorry to say, but I think a black-and-white perspective around these things is rather idealistic and naïve.

Alas, back to the point… My roster is made up of virgins, divorcees, widowers, Dads, full-time carers, neurodivergent men, physically disabled men, and men who are none-of-the-above. I meet men who are in crisis, and men who feel on top of the world.

In fact, men come to me from all walks of life but with one central thread in common… The desire to connect with a woman and to immerse themselves in her attention, affection and sexual energy.

An observation that came as no surprise to me was the multicultural diversity of my clients. In my time in the industry, I've met men from every inhabited continent, speaking countless first languages and bringing with them wonderfully colourful cultures, traditions and perspectives. In fact, my three most regular clients are immigrants to Australia.

Perhaps that's why it's become increasingly difficult for me to picture a "typical" client. The more people I meet, the less convinced I become that such a person exists.

What I do know is this: after nearly a decade in the industry, I've met remarkably few men who fit the seedy caricature so often portrayed by Hollywood. Far more often, I meet decent, hardworking men looking for connection, affection, intimacy, conversation, excitement, escape, or sometimes simply an hour where they don't have to be anyone else's employee, husband, father or problem-solver.

They're not a different species.

They're just people.

Ordinary people whose lives happen to intersect with mine in a way that society often misunderstands.

While we're on the subject of stereotypes, let's tackle another one...

Are all my clients ugly?

If I'm being completely honest, “my type” has never really aligned with what society considers conventionally attractive. The men I've fallen for in my personal life have sometimes left my girlfriends scratching their heads. So perhaps I'm not the best judge of whether a man is physically attractive or not.

That’s not to say my current partner is not considered attractive, because I’m certain many women find him very handsome. But probably for different reasons than I do.

But back to my clients… They’re all supposed to be overweight, hairy-backed and bald-headed, with terrible body odour, right?

That certainly hasn't been my experience.

Now, before the bald gentlemen start panicking... I should clarify that I absolutely love a bald man. In fact, I find many of them incredibly handsome. I also love me some manly body hair. And as for body shape? Well, only a very small handful of my clients would be considered medically obese, and it has never affected my enjoyment of our time together in the slightest.

Why?

Because appearance has never been the deciding factor.

Hygiene is. And in my books, good hygiene is the bare minimum price of admission, so you can guarantee my regular clients bust that “terrible body odour” myth right out of the soap-scented water.

Once hygiene is assured, I honestly don't care very much whether you're tall or short, muscular or skinny, tattooed or clean-cut, bald or sporting a magnificent head of hair.

This is actually one of the hardest things for non-sex workers to understand.

I never spare so much as a second’s thought on ranking the physical attractiveness of the men who walk through my hotel door.

Because this is my workplace, not my Tinder account.

I know this sounds like the disingenuous marketing-angle answer, but I truly do not care what my clients look like.

What I care about is entirely different.

Do you treat me with kindness?

Do you respect my boundaries?

Can we laugh together?

Are you emotionally intelligent?

Do we enjoy the same style of intimacy?

Those are the things that determine whether I look forward to seeing you again. Not your jawline.

In all my years as an escort, I have never once blacklisted a client because I didn't find him physically attractive. Not once.

Interestingly, I have blacklisted clients for being “too attractive” (or, more accurately, for believing themselves to be).

Every so often, a prospective client introduces himself with something like: "Young. Fit. White." Usually before I've even asked them a single question. And while those three words aren't an automatic deal breaker, they do make me cautious. Because why volunteer those particular qualities unless you believe they should somehow earn you bonus points? Nine times out of ten, my instinct proves correct. A few follow-up questions later, the entitlement begins to reveal itself. The misogyny often isn't far behind.

Ironically, it isn't their youth, fitness or whiteness that puts me off. It's the assumption that those things should matter to me in the first place. And more often than not, these enquiries are also accompanied by an unsolicited shirtless selfie. You could be a Greek God carved from stone, and that selfie I didn’t ask for would still be an instant turnoff.

Bottom line?

Your looks matter far less than you think they do.

Thinking they matter...

Now that is unattractive.

Great character, on the other hand?

That gets me purring.

Every. Single. Time.

More Than a Demographic

Of course, demographics can only tell me so much...

They can tell me how old a client is, what they do for a living, or whether they're single or married. They can't tell me what they're actually like. And that's the interesting part.

Being in this industry reminds me that clients, like people, are gloriously difficult to stereotype.

Some men arrive full of nervous energy, talking a mile a minute before they've even taken their shoes off. Others are so quiet that the first ten minutes feel like I’m performing a one-woman song and dance. Some want to tell me about the promotion they've just earned. Others need a safe place to admit they're struggling. Some are endlessly curious and ask me a hundred questions about my life. Others are perfectly content to lie beside me in comfortable silence.

I've learnt that loneliness doesn't discriminate based on age bracket. Neither does confidence, kindness, or generosity.

One of my favourite little rituals actually begins before the client even arrives.

I choose the music.

Not everyone notices, and that's perfectly okay. The playlist isn't there to impress anyone, and I would hope they’re too enamoured with me to pay it much mind anyway. It's just there to gently shape the mood of the room.

Sometimes I'll lean towards Fleetwood Mac, Elvis Presley or Bruce Springsteen for an older gentleman who might appreciate something familiar. Other times it'll be soft piano pieces or an intense, building crescendo courtesy of Ludovico Einaudi. And then there are the younger clients who possess an old soul. They might be in their twenties, but they seem far more at home with classic rock than whatever's currently sitting at the top of Spotify. If I know a little about them, I try to match the background music to their vibe.

There isn't a formula though. It's more intuition than science. A tiny way of saying, "I've thought about who you are before you even walked through the door."

If I don’t know them, they unfortunately get relegated to the generic “Slow Bedroom Jams” playlist until we are better acquainted.

That's probably the biggest misconception about this job. I don't see my clients as a homogeneous blanket of walking paycheques. I see them as individuals with whom my relationships are unique and dynamic.

I love that no two appointments feel exactly the same, because no two people are exactly the same. Even the same person evolves day by day and hour by hour. And as my clients reveal more of their inner selves to me, I do the same. There's something beautifully symbiotic about that.

While my statistics can tell me the demographics of each client who booked, they can’t tell me when those people became someone I genuinely care about. And occasionally, if I’m very lucky, one of those individuals stops feeling like a recurring appointment, and starts feeling like a central character in my calendar.

The funny thing is, the more I tried to analyse my clients as a group, the more my mind kept drifting back to individuals.

Three of them in particular…

The Men Who Became Part of the Furniture

If you've read The Year in Stats, you'll already be familiar with Husband, Boyfriend and Lover. They even won "Best Supporting Cast" at my entirely fictional Spreadsheet Goblin Awards.

Although I’ve already introduced you to their personalities, I haven’t really introduced them as examples of the kinds of men who make up my clientele.

Allow me to give you some more details… while protecting their privacy of course.

Husband is in his forties. He's married, migrated to Australia many years ago, and runs a blue-collar business. We've known each other for more than nine years now, making him one of the longest-standing relationships of my adult life. The first time we ever met was back when I was working in an establishment, and we always reminisce on how he made a joke to the receptionist: “Book me in with Jasmine at 6pm every Saturday for the next 20 years.” Turns out, he was serious.

Boyfriend is in his thirties, single, an immigrant, and works a blue-collar job. We've been seeing each other for around six or seven years, and alongside our deep passion lies a profound sense of comfort with each other. It’s like the feeling of being at home.

Lover is also in his thirties, married, and an immigrant (seeing a pattern here?) but works in a white-collar profession. We’ve been seeing each other around six or seven years also, although our time together has only recently become more consistent. He now frequently treats me to long, luxurious bookings or even multiple bookings within the same week.

Three completely different men.

Three completely different lives.

Three completely different reasons for booking me.

And not one of them resembles the stereotype people often imagine.

Looking back over the data, I noticed something else. These men weren't simply "frequent clients." They had become part of the rhythm of my calendar.

If you've ever wondered why certain evenings or Saturdays seem perpetually unavailable, the answer is simple. These three men have been booking those same timeslots for years. They’re not official standing reservations... but they may as well be.

Although I often describe Husband, Boyfriend and Lover as my "regulars," analysing the numbers revealed they were much more than that. Between them, they occupied almost one-third of my working calendar. Once I excluded the weeks I wasn't working due to university placements, illness and parenting responsibilities, they were, in effect, weekly fixtures in my life.

Apparently they weren't just recurring characters in the story of my year. They were practically co-authors.

An Honourable Mention

In an unexpected turn of events, it seems some of my readers have become rather curious about my other clients and have even asked me to make this a series. So, without being indiscreet, I'd like to introduce you to one more recurring character.

Let's call him The Driver.

Partly because he has an impressive collection of European cars that he enjoys driving thrillingly fast. And partly because he has an equally impressive knack for navigating the curves of my body... thrillingly slowly.

Unlike Husband, Boyfriend and Lover, The Driver didn't quite make this year's top three. That's only because we resumed seeing each other in November last year, after a couple of years apart. Life just pulled us in different directions. Though if he continues at his current rate of booking a lengthy rendezvous every month, I have a feeling he'll climb the leaderboard rather quickly next year.

He's quite a bit older than I am, married, and probably the most professionally accomplished man I see. He's whip-smart, endlessly curious, and he gets almost as excited by spreadsheets as I do. Our conversations regularly wander into investing, economics and business, which is fortunate because I am, quite frankly, embarrassingly hopeless with money. I gratefully accept every morsel of financial wisdom he sends my way.

He's also adventurous, playful, and always eager to explore something new together. Whether that's introducing me to a novel bedroom gadget, or suggesting a technique I haven’t tried before (have you heard of The Kivin Method?)… Our bookings have become little laboratories of mutual curiosity.

And then there was the revelation that delighted my competitive streak more than it probably should have. It turns out The Driver also keeps a spreadsheet. Naturally. And apparently, I'm currently his sixth most regularly visited escort.

Sixth!

I suddenly found myself with a completely ridiculous new ambition.

Move over, ladies. I'm coming for first place!

The Secret Isn't What You Think

If you've read this far, there's a fair chance one question has been quietly brewing in the back of your mind. Given that a great deal of my time is spent with the same long-term regulars over and over again, do my bookings with them feel different?

After hundreds of hours together… what changes?

There are still no hidden extras. No relaxed boundaries. No natural services. No "mates rates." The rules that apply to everyone else apply to my regulars too. I’ve also talked about how the biggest "perk" they receive is priority. When I'm organising my schedule for the coming weeks, I'll often send my availability to them first and let them choose before opening the remaining appointments to everyone else. Sometimes I'll even plan my hotel bookings around dates that suit them. That's probably the closest thing to VIP treatment they receive.

But the biggest difference isn't something I do.

It's something we create together.

Comfort.

And, in this case, it truly takes two to tango.

They know that if I say I'm tired, I really am. If I suggest slowing down, they do. If I tell them something isn't for me, they never ask a second time. They don't test my boundaries. They trust them.

It’s not just that they’ve seen me as the real Girlfriend Experience; trackie pants, minimal makeup and hastily tied-up hair.

It’s also a fluidity and naturalness in the time we spend together.

If an important phone call comes through during a long booking, they're happy for me to excuse myself for a few minutes, and likewise, I’d do the same for them. Sometimes we'll pause to eat the dinner one of them thoughtfully brought along. Often, we’ll share photos of the big family bash we attended on the weekend. The appointment itself becomes just another afternoon spent together. Sometimes I even forget I’m technically "at work."

Familiarity has a funny way of sanding off the polished edges. And I think that's really lovely.

People often assume that boundaries make relationships feel colder. My experience has been almost the complete opposite. Boundaries create safety. They enhance trust. They remove uncertainty. Everyone knows where they stand, and nobody feels pressured to become someone they're not.

There's never any awkward negotiation because the expectations were clear from the very beginning. We simply enjoy each other's company within a framework we've both happily agreed to.

Ironically, I think those boundaries are precisely what have allowed genuine affection to grow. I've come to care deeply for these men. Not because they spend the most money. Not because they've booked the most appointments. But because, year after year, they've consistently treated me with kindness, respect and consideration.

People sometimes imagine that the strongest relationships are the ones with the fewest boundaries. I suspect the opposite is true. The strongest relationships are often the ones where everyone feels safe enough that the boundaries almost disappear into the background.

They're still there.

You just stop noticing them.

Choosing More, Not Less

On 15 February 2026 (rather fittingly, the day after Valentine's Day), I introduced my new two-tier pricing structure.

I'll admit, I was nervous. The logical part of my brain assumed almost everyone would stick with the less expensive service. Instead, something rather lovely happened.

Since introducing the change, 62% of bookings have been for the Girlfriend Experience (GFE), while an astonishing 38% have been for the True Lovers Experience (TLE).

At first glance, that might not sound particularly remarkable.

To me, it means everything.

It tells me that more than one in every three bookings wasn't simply looking for the lowest price. Those men consciously chose a more immersive experience. More intensity. More intimacy. More depth.

For me, that statistic quietly reinforces something I've suspected for years. Most men aren't actually searching for the cheapest hour they can buy. They're searching for a specific kind of experience. The TLE statistic becomes one more piece of evidence that my clients aren't transactional caricatures. They're ordinary people making thoughtful choices about the kind of connection they want.

I used to worry that introducing two tiers would simply push everyone towards the cheaper option. Instead, it taught me that given the choice, a surprising number of men will happily invest a little more, not because they expect more from me, but because they value having more with me.

As compliments go... that's a pretty great one.

The Strange Things I Remember

So do I actually remember all of my clients?

Well... sort of.

If I only see someone once every year or two, there's a good chance I'll need a little refresher before we meet again. That's exactly why I keep notes under each contact in my phone.

Nothing too elaborate, just enough to jog my memory. Usually their age, occupation, nationality, and perhaps something we spoke about that seemed important to them. Sometimes I’ll jot down the things they really enjoy in the bedroom (for example: “loves having his nipples licked”), and other times I’ll note any important boundaries they expressed. But often it's less about remembering the booking, and more about remembering the person.

Those notes have saved me from more embarrassing moments than I care to admit.

My memory is a funny thing.

People’s faces? I’m absolutely hopeless. If the police ever asked me to identify someone from a lineup, we'd all be in trouble. I would be spectacularly useless.

But tattoos? Easy.

A distinctive laugh? Usually.

A particular aftershave? Quite often.

The sound he makes when he cums? Always.

One gentleman has smelled exactly like Musk Lifesaver lollies for years. I have absolutely no idea why. His kisses don’t taste like them; it’s just the scent. But it’s a delightful little detail that I happily file away in my memory bank whenever he reaches out. [Ding]… “Oh, it’s Musk-Lifesaver-Guy.”

The quirky little things about a client, I do remember with ease.

The germaphobe.

The cross-dresser.

The medieval-history buff.

The guy who’s had several near-death experiences.

The truth is, people become memorable for the things that make them... them.

Not because they're clients.

Because they're individuals.

I sometimes think that's another misconception about this industry. People imagine the clients blur together after a while.

They don't.

Not because I have an exceptional memory. Quite the opposite.

It's because every person leaves behind their own little fingerprint.

Sometimes it's a story.

Sometimes it's a tattoo.

Sometimes it's the way they laugh.

And, occasionally...

It's because, for reasons known only to the universe, they smell inexplicably like Musk Lifesaver lollies.

The Trouser Folk

I just realised that so far I've spent thousands of words talking about my clients and almost none talking about the body part everyone seems most interested in.

The penises.

I get asked about them constantly.

"What's the biggest you've seen?"

"Do you see many micro ones?"

"How many are circumcised?"

Apparently our society has collectively decided this is vital information. To which I always have the same slightly disappointing answer.

I honestly don't care all that much.

Sorry, gentlemen. I may have a lot of experience with them, but I'm afraid I'm no penis aficionado.

You see, to me, you're the main character. Your penis is merely a supporting actor.

Or perhaps more accurately...

A very hardworking prop.

I didn’t collect any data of this nature, so this part’s purely from recollection…

I think circumcised and uncircumcised men are split almost perfectly fifty-fifty.

The enormous, orange-condom kind (60 mm girth)? Surprisingly uncommon. Maybe half a dozen across the entire year.

The genuinely microscopic kind that won't even fit a close-fit condom? None. In fact, I can only remember one or two throughout my whole career.

Which probably isn't the statistical revelation some of you were hoping for.

• Penis piercings (or Prince Alberts as they’re called): 1

• Epispadias/Hypospadias penises: 2

• Penises rejected on the basis of a failed visual health-check: 1

Okay, those stats are a little intriguing to the biologist in me, but far more interesting to me is how men use what they've got.

I've met many men who were convinced they were "too small" despite being perfectly average. Others who assumed being exceptionally well-endowed automatically made them incredible lovers. Neither assumption has ever held much truth.

Good sex has always had far less to do with anatomy than intention.

Confidence.

Communication.

Curiosity.

Generosity.

Those things matter enormously.

A few extra centimetres?

Not nearly as much.

While we're talking anatomy, here's another statistic that might tickle your pickle… (and yes, I meant that as a double entendre).

Men who climax sooner than they'd hoped? Exceptionally common. And no. I don't mind in the slightest. If anything, I tend to take it as rather a lovely compliment.

The opposite situation, where someone struggles to climax at all, is thankfully less common. Contrary to what people often assume, that's rarely about attraction. More often, it's medication, anxiety, stress, or simply the way someone's body works.

Bodies are funny like that.

They're wonderfully inconsistent.

Just like the people attached to them.

Did the Girls Change the Guys?

By “the girls,” I mean my fake breasts.

And no, they didn’t change my clientele nearly as much as I expected.

I’ve had the girls for just shy of three years now. Before my surgery, I was worried I might accidentally attract a completely different breed of man. The kind looking for a plastic "bimbo" fantasy or a blow-up doll brought to life. Just because I wanted the pornstar boobs, didn’t mean that I was willing to start offering the pornstar experience.

Instead of changing who I was, I decided to lean even harder into what had always made Jasmine... well, Jasmine.

The website became softer. The photography became more romantic. The writing became more personal. I wanted to make it abundantly clear that, while my body had changed, the experience I offered hadn't. Judging by the men who continue to walk through my hotel door, I think it worked.

If anything, the biggest change wasn't my clientele.

It was me.

After my breast augmentation, I genuinely felt comfortable in my own skin again. I stopped worrying about how I looked in certain positions. I stopped instinctively covering my chest. I found myself enjoying particular bedroom activities again, like dressing up in lingerie, and wowing my lovers with a little Spanish.

I’ve learnt that most men aren’t nearly as concerned about whether breasts are "real" or "fake" as I initially assumed. If a man loves busty women, they're usually just delighted to be playing with a lovely pair of breasts, regardless of how they arrived there.

In fact, not long ago, a brand-new client enthusiastically told me how much he loved that my boobs were natural. I just smiled and thanked him, while also silently thanking my surgeon.

More Than Numbers

The statistics told me that most of my clients are in their thirties. That many are married. That they come from every corner of the globe. That three familiar faces occupy almost one-third of my calendar.

Useful information, certainly. But none of those numbers explain what it's actually like to meet hundreds of men from every imaginable walk of life.

The real story isn't found in the graphs. It's found in the conversations. In the laughter over takeaway containers. In the terrified first-time client who relaxes after five minutes and says, "I don't know why I was so nervous." In the man who excitedly tells me his daughter graduated. Or the one who admits he's having a tough time and just needs someone to lay beside him for a little while.

Those are the moments no spreadsheet will ever capture.

People often ask whether this job has changed the way I see men.

Yes... Without question.

It’s made me more compassionate. It's reminded me that behind almost every first impression is a far more interesting story. That people are rarely as simple as the labels we give them. That strength and vulnerability often exist side by side. And that loneliness, affection, curiosity and the desire to feel genuinely seen are universal experiences.

So, who are my clients?

They're husbands.

They're sons.

They're fathers.

They're tradies.

They're professionals.

They're students.

They're immigrants.

They're romantics.

They're introverts.

They're spreadsheet enthusiasts.

They're men with stories every bit as rich and complicated as my own.

In other words...

They're just people.

And I count myself incredibly fortunate that so many of you have trusted me enough to let our paths cross, even if only for an hour.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I should probably close Excel before it convinces me there's another blog hiding in there somewhere.

Love always,

Jasmine x