He wasn't exactly my type, but he was certainly good-looking and he was confident. That all sounded great to me, and I realized that I really, really didn't want to tell him about myself. I perform in graphic narratives that people use to get off.
"I know this is weird, but you're really beautiful and if I don't ask for your number, I'll probably never see you again." His name was Paul and he had blindingly white teeth. I mean, I was fine telling him about the town I grew up in, that I double majored in sociology and literature, and that I went to a prestigious writing program, and that I was working on my first novel. I think getting off is a vital part of human life and one that we shouldn't have to apologize for. He had a firm body and a pressing desire, but was very respectful in a way that was so sweet it made my stomach turn.
My phone was buzzing immediately with more "matches" than I could keep up with.
I wasn't really interested in getting emotionally invested in someone else.
But I also didn't worry too much about what might happen if I ever wanted to date a "civilian," since I wouldn't have to explain much more than that I had sex with women on camera sometimes.
Netflix is like weed to me, and I have a diet that involves things called 'cheat days' and 'shame spirals.' I like the words 'overmuch' and 'evermore.' I'm a feminist and progressive and have a graduate education and really strong views about the wage gap.
I write for an edutainment program about history on You Tube, I have a podcast, and, also, I'm a porn star." This little chunk of text actually served me well. What I learned is that a lot of people know someone who is in the adult industry and a lot of people don't really mind potentially fucking a girl that fucks professionally.
I became precise in my rejection of people based solely on their looks, age, or interests.
But once again, it's hard to get to really know someone without revealing a key piece of information, mainly that all of your income is derived from the sexual services you sell, and more than that, a brand that revolves around sex.May not make sense to everyone, but it only has to make sense to the two of them.When I first became single, I had been doing porn for about a year, but I performed exclusively with women, which, for whatever reason, is more "forgivable" to a lot of people.I'm pretty good at sussing people out, and he'd dropped enough hints in the conversation over dinner for me to figure out that he'd have some questions about the porn thing and it would definitely cause some conflict.The chemistry was nice, but I decided that he wasn't worth the trouble. My brother came to visit me for the holidays, touting the virtues of a new dating app called Tinder. I could put myself out there without any pictures from work, get some responses to people that were genuinely into me, and then I could come out if we made it past a few dates.Porn has taught me one thing absolutely: that people's sexuality is fractured and everyone is ham-handed about dealing with it. I come to the job with a somewhat unusual background, which is fine for friendships, but when it comes to developing more intimate relationships, it can be more challenging. When a guy would ask me to tell them about myself, what I did, etc., I would reply with: "Writing is my life.