SEXIS WRONG

especially bars and strip clubs—in need of promotional goodies,
more patrons, and bigger bar tabs.
I like my porn buddies. Any savvy drug dealer will tell you
that the goods all come back in the end. Bar owners let me
drink for free before their doors even open. I get invited to
all manner of events. People give me free passes to movie
premieres and rock shows. I eat free meals. I get discounts at
clothing boutiques, hair salons, and tattoo parlors. And best
of all, everyone knows my name.
Well, at least the name on my business card.
—
1:45 – 2:00 p m : Leave the building to take a smoke break
and proof your copy. Note four run-on sentences as you
notice the new beefy salesman smoking a cigar around
the corner. Note that his biceps and cheesy crew cut are
not your type. Find his stature oddly appealing while
pretending to proof remaining copy.
This is a heavy subject to tackle.
I’ve seen the good in almost everyone. Specifically, I’ve seen
good reason to fuck almost anyone. There are three reasons
for this:
1. I used to not know that hypersexuality comes with
bipolar mania.
2. I used to entirely depend on porn for sexual
gratification.
3. I used to indulge in meaningless sex with many onenighters.
Let me try to explain.
First: I was born with a sexual birthmark in my manic genes.
Second: I saw my first porn video at the premature age of
ten, and knew I was hooked.
Third: I’m on the left side of the 1:3 ratio of women who were
sexually abused before the age of eighteen. In my case history,
the files will tell you that I was six.
One common consequence of molestation is growing up
without steady sexual boundaries. I’ve had more sexual partners
than Jenna Jameson. But that’s nothing to brag about,
because I didn’t get paid to do it.
It took me years of therapy to realize the difference between
what molestation meant to the world and what it meant to
me: With the help of an abused teenaged boy, I discovered
my clitoris and how good it felt to be touched.
The sensation of being touched by a fresh finger or tongue
or cock is a sexual rush that I still have to resist today. It also
took me years of romantic disasters to understand the difference
between sexual addiction and intimacy. Behold how
I’ve terrorized:
High-school boyfriend: two and a half years. I tortured him
with the terribly scarring things that fucked-up teenagers do
to each other. He’s a Christian minister now. There isn’t a decade
that goes by that I don’t wonder if I’m the reason why.
College boyfriends: six months average. All are fathers, gay,
married, or drag queens now, and there isn’t a year that goes
by that I’m not astonished by and proud of them for still talking
to me.
The girlfriends: one or two weeks apiece. All of them are actual
lesbians, and there isn’t six months that go by that I don’t
wonder if or why I’m not.
First true love: eight years. Responsible for trying to teach me
the purpose of sexual boundaries. There isn’t a month that
goes by that I don’t wonder how things might’ve gone if I
hadn’t gone astray...eight or eighteen times.
Best sex: two years, one of which overlapped the true love.
Fighting and drinking and fucking. There isn’t a week that
goes by that I don’t wonder how we managed to last as long
as we did.
And now, my man, where my terrors grew up, got old, and
died. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t thank him for
dating a 31-year-old bipolar pornographer who publicly celebrates
her career and conquests in lieu of repeating past
mistakes. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why he chooses
to be with me. He’s beautiful, sexual, brilliant, tough, and best
of all, he runs at full capacity.
Now, would I have ended up working in porn without all of
these factors?
I’ll always have to take a pill to calm my manic sexuality. I’ll
always have a porn habit. It’ll always be a challenge to remember
the consequences of standing face to face with
the intoxicating mugs of temptation. My demons are everywhere,
bowing to my body with their phallus-curved horns.
Sex is my heroin.
So, the answer is, probably not. But I can say this: I’ve busted
my ass to learn where my limits end and how to like my life
within them. Plus, my job is more interesting than yours.
—
2:00 – 2:10 p m : Receive sweet phone call from boyfriend,
who has planned an unexpected night on the town.
Thank your lucky stars for dating a solid, secure, and
understanding man.
I can’t speak for the significant others of everyone who works
in America’s adult industry. But at Sex World, the employees’
180 EVERYTHING YOU KNOW ABOUT SEX IS WRONG