Premium Porn: Putting a Price on the Parasocial

Subscription-based platforms put power back in the hands of online sex workers, but at what cost for their lonely fans?

BY: VAISHNAVY PUVIPALAN

Our conception of celebrity has sure gone through some major upheavals in the past decade, hasn’t it? We traded in worshipping untouchable superstar-A-lister-demigods like Brad Pitt or Lady Gaga for the beloved and ostensibly “relatable” model. This version of celebrity was codified by Jennifer Lawrence at the 2013 Academy Awards tripping  on the stairs on her way to pick up her Oscar. Her brand of awkward, self-effacing charm is commonplace now. See for yourself. Get on Youtube and look up “Tyler the Creator being relatable for two minutes straight” and check out the endless stream of carefully curated celebrity clips of actors, singers, vloggers, and streamers alike. 

Of course, as we were reminded in the earlier chapters of this pandemic, it’s all a farce. 

Watching the rich and famous absolutely languished in isolation in their castles certainly left me disillusioned with my heroes, to say the least. Just as social media made me feel better connected to the elite, it helped me realise the truth: I don’t know these people at all. How did it get to this point? Why are so many of us obsessed with perpetuating this narrative and connecting to celebrities most of us will only ever see through a screen? 

The answer I found in psychological research is encapsulated by the descriptor “parasocial relationship.” A parasocial relationship describes the one-sided bond between media personality and audience. It’s not at all a new concept; when the term was coined in 1956, it would have been applicable to the feelings of legions of fervent Elvis fans. 

Stan culture predates BTS / Photo courtesy of The Commercial Appeal

A lot has changed since then and now. With social media allowing us more intimate communication with the celebrities we know and love, parasocial relationships are becoming an increasingly realistic substitute for actual social interaction. The sentiment behind these relationships seems to be, “I feel like they (celebrities) understand me better than my actual friends and family.” This is obviously more than a little troubling. The feelings of loneliness that fuel these parasocial relationships have been capitalized on through celebrity endorsements to the point where “social media influencer” is a lucrative career path. But what happens when our companionship needs interface with our other needs? Our sexual needs, for instance? 

In 2016 the world was introduced to OnlyFans, a London-based subscription content service. The platform was harnessed by fitness experts, musicians, chefs but mainly —you guessed it— online sex workers. For those of you not in the know, think of it like an X-rated Instagram behind a paywall. Content creators offer subscription bundles of exclusive sexually explicit or non-explicit videos and pictures. 

Ex-Disney star Bella Thorne’s controversial OnlyFans cracked $1 million within just one day after its premiere. The actress was criticized for not delivering on promised nude photos and for taking advantage of a platform more appropriate for sex workers with no other means. / Photo courtesy of @bellathorne via OnlyFans

I will admit, mostly everything I knew about OnlyFans before my “investigation” came to me via Twitter discourse/memes. And suffice it to say, I was unimpressed. Who in their right mind would pay so much and so often for porn? And for content that barely scratched the surface of what’s available over at PornHub at that. Surely, you can find stuff that fulfils just about any fetish or kink for free on the internet if you look hard enough.

Hundreds of Twitter memes like the one above spawned from the collective realisation that one could earn upwards of $8000 monthly from OnlyFans. / Photos courtesy of @EasyStreetKeys via Twitter

And yet the numbers speak for themselves. In just the past three months, OnlyFans rose through the ranks from the 875th to the 500th most visited site globally. 

Site traffic of Pornhub.com versus Onlyfans.com / Photo courtesy Alexa.com

It took consulting with a content creator for me to appreciate the work that goes behind it all. Dakota got her start on OnlyFans after amassing a sizeable loyal following through TikTok and Twitter, platforms on which she could promote her more explicit content using teasers. In addition to subscription bundles of videos and images, she offers pay-per-view content, custom request content, and sexting. She spends hours a day creating sets and costumes for her page. 

But the most intriguing to me by far was her Girlfriend Experience option. Girlfriend Experience (GFE) services entail Dakota roleplaying as the subscriber’s girlfriend; perhaps sending affectionate text messages throughout the day as well as “lewds” (non-explicit sexual images) and nudes. Gainful as it is, it is time-consuming. 

Currently, she juggles four different GFE users. 

“For most of my subs [sic] it’s definitely about more than just getting off,” she says, “I mean, it’s a huge part of it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also about having someone to check up on you from time to time—making a connection. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone ask about how you’ve been. And I’m happy to do that.”

I finally understood the appeal. This is something much more personal than your average smut. For many, the slick polish on professional studio porn does not compare to the DIY charm of bedroom photoshoots with a grainy camera. That, in combination with some long-distance affection, makes for an effective therapeutic parasocial relationship. Taking on the GFE role is a noble cause if there ever was one, I feel. 

Okay, look, I am neither puritan nor Luddite. By no means am I nostalgic for the VHS era of porn. And I fully support the access sex-workers have to a platform that cuts out the middleman and allows them to dictate the value of their work without being exploited. Well, sort of. OnlyFans does retain a large 20% of its users earnings. And just by virtue of its design it is attractive to underage children as a means to get rich. But on the whole, I would prefer this model than the blatant abuse prevalent in studio produced porn. Still, I was filled with a sense of pity for the users dependent on their services. At the end of the day, the porn industry as a whole is one that profits from the loneliness of its consumers. 

For a perspective from the other side of the screen, I ventured to the Reddit community, r/nofap, a subreddit that functions as a support group for those struggling with porn addiction and abstaining from masturbation. I found thread after thread of mostly depressed men expressing their regret for indulging in these services. They vent their frustration and shame for feeling so socially isolated that they succumbed to being financially exploited. 

Help comes in many forms. / Photo via Reddit

One comment by user CockInTheBlender reads, “I was one of those [subscribers]. I wish I could get my money back but I was so far in my addiction that I’d do anything just to feel like the experience was real. Somehow paying for it made it feel more real when it wasn’t. It was just sadness.”

It is easy to look on in derision at the lonely fans of premium porn. But the consequences of this feedback loop of social isolation leading to the reliance on these services can be devastating. Simulated intimacy is an industry that shows no sign of slowing with the ongoing growth of social media. And I would wager that a lot of us are just a few rough days away from subscribing to OnlyFans —or starting one. All I’m saying is, have empathy. The root of a one-sided bond between amateur pornstar and subscriber is the same as any other parasocial relationship: the need for human connection.