The Original Gig Economy: What We Never Knew About Sex Work in Ancient Rome
- JELQ2GROW
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
If you think the gig economy is a new thing, think again. Long before you could swipe right on Tinder or leave a one-star Uber review for a driver who wouldn't let you play your own music, the Romans had already perfected the art of the transactional hookup. And as new discoveries show, their world of sex work was far more complex, and surprisingly more familiar, than we ever imagined.
Forget what you saw in Gladiator. While we often picture Roman sexuality as a parade of powerful men and subservient women, the reality was a lot more… well, fluid. Thanks to some recently unearthed graffiti—the original Yelp review, basically—historians are piecing together a hidden story: the world of male sex workers in the Roman Empire.
Roman sex Work. Brothel Yelp Reviews, Circa 79 A.D.
When Mount Vesuvius blew its top and froze Pompeii in time, it accidentally created the world’s most fascinating time capsule. In one of the city's official brothels, amidst the usual declarations of love and crude drawings, archaeologists found something that flipped the script: reviews for male prostitutes.
This wasn't just a one-off. Names like Paris and Castrenis pop up repeatedly, praised by clients for their good looks and skills. The graffiti even includes a price list, proving that some things never change. A blowjob, for instance, would set you back about what you'd pay for a craft beer today (around $5). It’s a stark reminder that for all our technological progress, human desires remain remarkably consistent.
Even the sex workers themselves got in on the action, scrawling jokes on the walls to pass the time. It paints a picture not of downtrodden victims, but of people trying to make a living in a tough business—with a sense of humor to boot.
The Rules of the Roman Ride
Now, before you start thinking ancient Rome was some kind of anything-goes sexual paradise, hold your horses. This was a society built on rigid hierarchy, and that extended all the way to the bedroom.
The golden rule was simple: status was everything. In any sexual encounter between two men, the higher-status individual had to be the "top." To be the receptive partner was to be seen as effeminate and weak, a major social taboo for a Roman citizen.
So, who were these male sex workers? Almost exclusively enslaved men or former slaves. They were considered infames—literally "shameful ones"—a legal status that put them on par with gladiators and actors. They had few rights and were often seen as "human objects of male sexual gratification." It was a brutal system that allowed Roman citizens to explore their desires without ever compromising their own masculinity. As long as you were the one in charge, and your partner was of a lower class, anything was on the table.
For a while, the system worked, at least for the clients. Male prostitutes could register with the state, pay their taxes, and operate in a semi-legal gray area. They were a recognized, if stigmatized, part of the urban landscape.
The Party Ends: How Christianity Changed Everything
This entire world—the brothel graffiti, the legal registrations, the unspoken rules—came to a screeching halt with the rise of Christianity. Once Emperor Theodosius I made Christianity the state religion in 380 A.D., the writing was on the wall, and it wasn't a funny joke from a sex worker this time.
Just a decade later, in 390 A.D., the hammer came down. Forcing men into prostitution became a capital offense. But this wasn't about protecting the vulnerable; it was about eradicating what was now seen as a mortal sin. The law dictated that any man who "dared to subject his own sex to such shameful treatment" should be burned alive in front of the public.
It was a swift and brutal end to a part of Roman life that had existed for centuries. The history of male sex work was effectively erased, buried under layers of religious dogma and cultural shame, only to be rediscovered two millennia later on the walls of a forgotten brothel. It's a powerful lesson in how quickly cultures can turn on a dime, and a fascinating, gritty glimpse into the real business of pleasure in the ancient world.
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