<figure id="attachment_439834" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 2797px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-439834"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="a8b854cf"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/09/e908ccaaf5440c9b001d87558c71ab0a.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-439834" class="wp-caption-text">From the early days of PC websites to the mobile phone era, dating sites exploded in number. (From FRIDAY SPECIAL, December 16, 2001 special issue)</figcaption></figure>
With the revision of the Adult Entertainment Business Regulation Law bringing major upheaval to the sex industry, the series “Report: The Birth of the Sex Industry” follows nonfiction writer Mizuho Takagi as she explores the roots of various adult businesses. In this fourth installment, the focus is on dating sites. The origins of today’s now-mainstream dating apps lie in a shadowy world once teeming with men scheming to make a quick fortune.
<h3>A talent scout aiming for a quick fortune launched it</h3>
Instead of letters or phone calls, people began seeking partners online — first through PC and mobile websites, and later, with the advent of smartphones, through what evolved into modern matching apps. But what started as a new form of digital romance eventually became a breeding ground for compensated dating (“papa-katsu”). These dating sites were born around 1995, the same year Windows 95 was released.
In 1998, System Company A, a group of engineers originally focused on software development and infrastructure, founded “Deai no Island” (Island of Encounters) in Tokyo’s Shinbashi district, marking its entry into this burgeoning field. Along with “Looking for Local Friends”, which debuted in 1995, it became one of the pioneering dating sites of the early internet era.
The project began thanks to Tatsuki Murota (pseudonym, 60), a talent scout with an eye for opportunity. One of the founding members, Naomi Miyamura (pseudonym, 53), recalls:
“Murota played the role of producer for the project. He didn’t have money, but he was full of schemes and ambition.”
At the time, the industry was shifting from two-shot dial phone dating services to online dating sites. With the rise of the internet, new financial prospects were emerging — but Murota lacked the funds to seize them. So he devised a bold plan.
“He managed to pull in tens of millions of yen from someone — by offering women in return,” says Miyamura.
Using that investment, Murota commissioned System Company A to create a bulletin board–style dating site equipped with a chat function.
Deai no Island featured themed chat rooms — such as “Girls’ Room” and “Gyaru Room” — catering to various interests. It was a paid, members-only service: users received a password after paying an entry fee. The system was adapted from the “two-shot dial” technology that had used telephone lines for private chats.
The site wasn’t as sophisticated as today’s matching apps; it was more like a paid version of a simple text-based forum — think of something akin to 5channel (2channel).
To attract users, they relied on spam emails. Address lists were harvested from scam websites and adult video order sites — places likely frequented by men seeking encounters. These lists were organized, and massive email blasts were sent out to potential users.
And thus, Deai no Island set sail.
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="It's a &quot;dating site&quot; but you can't meet anyone?"></div>
<h3>The Dawn of the Nekama Era</h3>
Early dating sites were divided into two main types: those that actually enabled encounters — real meeting sites — which hired sakura (fake female users), and those that didn’t — non-meeting sites — which relied entirely on nekama (men pretending to be women online).
Deai no Island fell into the latter category. And the person who played a key role in gathering sakura data was the previously mentioned Miyashita. Although Miyamura and Murota were both talent scouts, Miyamura’s scouting skills were superior — so Murota turned to him for help.
“He asked me to collect personal data they could use for the nekama personas. He said, ‘You’re good at this kind of thing, right?’” (Miyamura)
Hiring actual women to act as sakura, like in the old two-shot dial services, would have been too costly. But in an online chat environment, you couldn’t tell if the person you were talking to was a man or a woman. So Murota explained his idea enthusiastically: if one man could play multiple fake female roles, it would save money and keep users engaged longer.
To build these nekama identities, Miyashita created a detailed questionnaire with about 40 items — name, address, hobbies, favorite foods, and so on — and began collecting personal information. He went to bustling areas like Shibuya and Shinjuku, where young women gathered. The offer was simple: “Let us take your photo and fill out a short survey, and you’ll get 1,000 yen in cash.” It worked perfectly.
Within six months, thanks to this recruitment method, roughly 5,000 profiles were collected. Those personal details went straight into Murota’s hands — and became the foundation for nekama personas that charmed gullible men into spending heavily.
Deai no Island wasn’t alone. Around the same time, numerous scam sites employing nekama tactics began appearing simultaneously. Because laws had yet to catch up with this new form of business, such practices flourished in a legal gray zone.
Learning from Miyashita’s account, it was surprising to realize that non-meeting sites — designed so users would never actually meet anyone — had existed since the very dawn of the online dating era.
After all, once a man and woman met in real life, the revenue stream ended — just like telekura (telephone clubs), where male customers paid to talk to women. That’s why telekura and two-shot dial operators hired sakura, while online dating site operators went a step further and eliminated even those — using only nekama.
You can almost picture the frustrated men grumbling,
“No matter how much I spend, I never get to meet anyone.”
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="The Q2 system was made by a student at the University of Science at a low price."></div>
<h3>“Dial Q2” Raked In 200 Million Yen a Month</h3>
Two-shot dial services and online dating sites both evolved from the same lineage — the telephone-based adult entertainment business known as the “telekura” (short for “telephone club”).
In 1985, the telekura industry was born, offering men and women a way to meet through phone calls. During Japan’s economic bubble, it exploded in popularity — by 1990, more than 100 telekura parlors operated in Tokyo alone, fueling what would later become the enjo kōsai (compensated dating) boom.
Shortly afterward came the rise of the two-shot dial service. Launched in 1989 as part of NTT’s “Dial Q2” premium-rate phone system — a pay-by-call service that included adult voice content — it offered free access for women and paid access for men. Because Dial Q2 required no storefront and was easier to use than physical telekura locations, many users involved in compensated dating migrated to it. The result: it quickly became a breeding ground for new forms of sexual misconduct.
Although telekura remained popular, the introduction of Japan’s first mobile phone, the “Shoulder Phone”, in 1985 began changing the landscape. As mobile phones grew smaller and cheaper, those already profiting from phone-based adult services saw an opportunity — realizing that mobile communication was even more convenient than landlines. This evolution paved the way for early online dating ventures like Deai no Island.
But where did the Dial Q2 system itself come from? A former yakuza who once ran adult programs and two-shot dial operations revealed the surprising backstory:
“We handed some cash to a student from the Tokyo University of Science and had him build it cheap. The system was basically a modified version of telekura software. I also heard that some loan sharks started doing it as a side business.”
Dial Q2 had been shady from the start — plagued by overbilling scandals and use for prostitution — so those involved knew regulation was inevitable. As a result, most operators were either tied to the underworld or financed by it, the ex-yakuza explained candidly.
One such figure was Norio Harada (alias, age 70), who struck gold by shifting from running mistress banks — businesses that matched wealthy men with women — to operating one of the early telekura chains. When the Dial Q2 boom began, he jumped in.
“The development cost me 100 million yen, but it brought in 200 million every month. That went on for a year or two — it was pure bliss,” said Harada.
Two hundred million yen a month sounds unbelievable — but the next revelation was even more shocking: “Tracing my connections led me to a major housing manufacturer. Their in-house system development department actually built it for me.” (Harada)
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="The advent of &quot;i-mode&quot; ushered in the mobile phone era."></div>
<h3>A Flood of Meet-Up Dating Sites</h3>
A major shift in the dating-site market came about roughly five years after their birth, in 1999. With carriers launching internet access services like NTT DoCoMo’s i-mode, mobile dating sites began appearing one after another.
It was then that meet-up dating sites proliferated. The most popular of these was Star Beach (hereafter “Stabi”), which launched its service in December 1999. At its peak it posted some 450 million page views per month. Fueled by the compensated-dating boom, it rose to become the top tool for teens to meet older men in exchange for money.
Following the success of Stabi, another meet-up site, Apire (formerly Koimeiru), appeared around 2002. Takashi Uchida (alias, 49), who served as an administrator at the time, says:
“Stabi was completely free. So Apire introduced a points system and started as a paid meet-up site. Posting and viewing photos required points, and users had their points deducted each time they used the service. But we were soon forced to shift to a non-meet model.”
There was a reason for switching to the non-meet model. Because Apire was a meet-up site, users actually met and then canceled their memberships, creating a problem: revenue could not be sustained that way. To make money, that issue had to be solved.
Honorifics omitted in the text.
In the second part, we discuss the heyday that dating sites reached with the spread of mobile phones, and their eventual downfall.
<a href="https://friday.kodansha.co.jp/article/439838">[Part 2] “Because my husband will find out” Tricks to make users spend heavily.</a>
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<figure id="attachment_439835" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 2783px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-439835"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="1fe20fec"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/09/6856a8814a832b19e813a249f78f5b84.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-439835" class="wp-caption-text">Some women even sent photos, but almost all of them were fake. (From FRIDAY SPECIAL, December 16, 2001, extra issue)</figcaption></figure>

 Mizuho Takagi

 This issue of "Reporto: The Birth of the Sex Industry" explores how all kinds of sex industry came into being. In this report, Mizuho Takagi covers the roots of "dating sites. In its early days, "dating sites" were "no-meet" sites created solely for the purpose of making money.

From Fake Connections to Flesh-and-Blood Encounters — The Hidden History of Japan’s Early Dating Sites

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