Singapore’s host clubs exposed: Women share what they think

It’s not every day you spot a handful of tall, sharply dressed men casually lingering around the quieter corners of Orchard Road, Singapore’s bustling shopping hub. Follow them up to their establishment, and you quickly realise they’re not just a group of friends hanging out.

These men — or rather, boys — are colleagues at work, yet they live in a world that feels completely different from the usual Singapore nightlife scene. Their days are filled with bottomless champagne towers, interactions with female guests, and musical performances through the night, whether singing or dancing. Welcome to the world of host clubs, where guests can spend an evening experiencing companionship and attention, all within the framework of a professional, transactional arrangement.

What exactly is a host club?

Though relatively new to Singapore, the concept is anything but novel elsewhere. In Japan, for instance, male-host bars where men entertain female guests, are a staple of nightlife culture. Here, you pay for companionship: conversation, laughter, attentive listening, and sometimes even a little performance. The key rule? Sexual services are strictly off-limits. The hosts are entertainers, not escorts, and their role is purely social.

Chances are, you’ve seen glimpses of this world before — maybe in a TikTok reel, a flashy Instagram post, or a YouTube documentary exploring the lives of male hosts. Some even appear on dating shows like Ten-ten on Netflix’s Badly in Love, showing the world that this industry, while niche, is alive, thriving, and increasingly visible.

While host clubs have reportedly operated in Singapore for some time, they are only now gaining broader attention. A few, such as Gentleman’s Club and Club M, dominate social media feeds with slick marketing, but they are far from being the only establishments in the city. Some operate quietly, with information about them circulating mainly through networks and referrals.

On a typical evening inside the Gentleman’s Club, around 25 hosts take the stage. Guests can expect live singing performances, emceeing by their partnered host, and even dance segments, with sets running anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour and sometimes repeated up to four times a night. Some venues go the extra mile with thoughtful touches like blankets or shoe services, ensuring guests are treated like VIPs. These clubs are said to be full almost every night, filled with guests who seek the full princess experience.

Prices and packages vary between clubs and are often customized based on table reservations and the number of hosts requested. Typically, one host will accompany you when you place an alcohol order, with additional hosts joining as you order more drinks or opt for higher-priced alcohol. For example, at Gentleman’s Club, a beer tower starts at $138, while the most premium option, Martell XD, goes up to $1,528.

Specific hosts are subject to availability, which can be checked via WhatsApp, Telegram, email, or phone. They can also be booked for the whole night at a special rate in a private room. Otherwise, popular hosts often move from table to table to accommodate different clients, and some may call it a night early if they’ve had too much to drink.

At the heart of it, the experience is about emotional and social connection. The hosts provide companionship — a listening ear for hire, if you will — and the money you spend contributes to their salaries, which, can reach five figures or more. It’s a legitimate, legal part of the nightlife scene, focused entirely on entertainment and comfort. Drinks, banter, laughter, and performances create a night that’s both memorable and strictly professional.

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As the popularity of host clubs grows, helped along by savvy social media campaigns, — we’ve spoken to Singaporean women to hear their take on these unique establishments.

Conditional Curiosity

For women like Sofia, an office worker with a 9-to-5, who have led relatively ordinary lives, the appeal of host clubs often exists only in fantasy. It becomes a space imagined for someone wealthier, freer, and untouched by the practicalities of everyday life. Sofia admits that in another financial reality, the club might feel indulgent, even comforting.

She describes the allure as less about intimacy and more about escape. Compared to the unpredictability of dating, host clubs represent a controlled bubble, one where men are consistently attentive, emotionally affirming, and kind. For Sofia, the appeal lies in stepping into a space where men behave in ways that feel attentive and charming, something she rarely encounters outside the club.

Others express a guarded interest: curious enough to visit, but only under circumstances where their presence remains private. Julie’s hesitation reflects a broader discomfort shared by many women, where the fear of judgment outweighs the intrigue.

The prevailing sentiment is that while host clubs may attract curiosity, few women would enter on their own accord. Interest is often framed as hypothetical or ironic, and never entirely sincere. In a society where respectability and image remain tightly policed, the fear of being seen there often outweighs curiosity, reinforcing existing stigma.

Firm Rejection

Olivia, who recently turned thirty and describes herself as happily single, does not see the appeal of host clubs. For her, the concept feels unnecessary rather than tempting, and she rejects the idea that companionship should be transactional.

Phoebe, a working professional who recently ended a seven-year relationship, acknowledges that she could benefit from emotional support during this transition. Despite this, she remains firm in her view that host clubs risk initiating an unhealthy cycle of dependency rather than offering genuine comfort.

Beyond the bubble

Despite Singapore’s hush-hush culture, the rising popularity of host clubs stands out as an unusual phenomenon that is rarely discussed openly.

Freshly 40 and married, Mira offers insight into why some women visit the establishment: to fulfill emotional needs that are fundamental to humans.

In Leah’s case, her ex-boyfriend showered her with lavish gifts and affection thanks to his high salary. Yet she couldn’t handle the emotional weight of knowing he was catering to other women every night. To her, even his words of reassurance felt rehearsed and hollow, leaving her to wonder how many other girls had heard the same lines meant to comfort her.

When asked if they could date a man who was a host, all interviewees responded no, citing similar reasons: concerns over emotional attachment, social stigma, and the transactional nature of the interactions.

Love for sale

Host clubs occupy a curious space in Singapore’s nightlife. While public opinion is gradually becoming more open, stigma and scrutiny around these establishments remain.

Across the interviews, a common thread emerges: host clubs provide a form of connection that is compelling yet transactional, where the line between genuine interaction and paid emotional labour is often blurred. This dual nature highlights both the appeal and the complexity of these services.

More than a story about the clubs themselves, these conversations show how people manage companionship and emotional labour in a world where intimacy and social expectations are closely connected — a reminder that behind the glitter and performance lies a very human search for connection.