Maybe you didn’t date me because….Youre GAY for PAY? Could be

I mean there could be other reasons someone doesnt want to date me. Could be, none Im aware of though. Last week I wrote a blog (https://lessclassmoreass.wordpress.com/2011/05/28/running-into-t…mes-had-by-all/) about James, the guy who I was obsessed with for a short time who wanted nothing to do with me. The one I ran into in Union Square whom I embarrasssed myself with by bringing up subjects like kiddie pools and shitting your pants. Oh God help me. With the chemistry I felt with this guy though, I never could figure out why he didnt feel the same.

Once when I was lurking on his Facebook page I found some suggestive comments to him by an Asian porn star he seemed to be a little too friendly with. I blamed his disinterest in me on the “Asian Card.” I can compete with pornstars, but aside from my long dark hair and glorious skin, I got nothing in my arsenal to attract a man addicted to Asian women. When I saw her I deemed her a tranny and moved on. Disturbed, but not discouraged from my final goal of seeing his penis.

A couple of nights ago I spent some time with a cute kid who was good enough company for a good night kiss. Through my usual astrology assessment of whether he was a worthy of a kiss or not I found out he had the same birthday as James. Well now thats a coincidence. Kiss!

Today it occurs to me that I probably dont even know James birthday and have been fantasizing all along that I know him better than I actually do. So I go online, and remember I deleted him off my Facebook ages ago. Its the quickest way to get over someone. 2 deletes, Facebook and Phone number. Dont half ass it and keep the texts though. You know your dumb ass will totally drunk text when you realize you still have the number saved that way. With no Facebook to check I realize I have to do this the old fashioned way…as a stalker. I go see my old friend Mr. Google and go to the images page to shamelessly stare at his modeling pictures. I stumble upon this cute article that was written about him and what hes passionate about in life. Awww, what a sweetie, sighhhhhh. I go back to the picture page, scroll, drool, scroll, smile, and then it happens.

I see it.Yes IT. And IT is in someone elses mouth. Not just some ONE, some DUDE.

Before I even click on the site my mind is telling me that its a fake, it must be photoshopped. I see his tattoos but it must be like one of those naked celebrity photos, with the head super imposed on his body.

I click. Nope, that’s him, that’s his penis. All this time Ive wanted to see his penis, and now I am seeing it in another mans mouth. Folks, this is my life, and it would make your motherfucking head spin if you lived it for a day. I scroll down to discover all sorts of good still shots from the porno he did.

“Oh hey there’s his penis again and he’s jerking it off for another man. Here’s something different…his penis sharing a mouth with another strangers penis. This is swell.”

I am utterly fascinated, simultaneously ill but with bouts of hysterical laughter. I feel really sad for him that these pictures are so easy to find, and at the same time feel so much better that a man who has been paid to receive blowjobs from men was not interested in dating me.

I carry on my investigation via google and every gay porn site known to man to discover his 5, FIVE dvds that he has starred in. I guess that’s not a lot in porno world, but its worth noting that there was a “Best of (insert name here)” DVD of him and his “work.”

Fuck me.

If you have a “Best of” video of your gay pornography, I think Im out. In his defense he only received blowjobs and didnt reciprocate. Yes, I am aware that is the worst, gayest defense ever. Thank you straight people, noted!! Friends told me to say something to him, which really just seems pointless and hideously tacky. How does that conversation start?

“Hey James, so did you not like me because I’m not in porn, and you are? Is it because I dont have a penis? Is it because you don’t like penis, but don’t want to have to explain to me that at one point you had to be ok occupying a mouth with another one?”

This seems like a conversation best left to make fun of with my friends, and even with all his rejection of me, I will actually respect his privacy and not reveal his identity to people who do not know it already. Not even his porno name. Which for the record is the same first name as his real name…are you a fucking idiot? That many identifiable tattoos AND the same first name. I end on the final thought that Google is your friend, and stalking is not a crime. Wait, yes it is. Internet stalking is not a crime if the person is not aware that you’re doing it. Right.

The Man who Destroyed my Faith in Men…an Apology 8 Years Later

Not to say there haven’t been plenty of other men who have perpetuated the idea that they are all selfish pigs, but this one…boy this one, he was a doozy. Approximately 8 years ago I was working as a stripper. I use the term “working” loosely. It was more of a hustle, a smile, a false persona to make a buck, or five hundred. I did it for a couple of years, and its not my finest times. For a smart girl who had plenty of opportunity to do something with herself at that age, making hundreds of dollars for a few hours of work, strangely, seemed more exciting at the time. So I was in Vegas on one of my rare weekend trips to make a couple thousand dollars (yes, hence the difficulty going back to the real world, and no, there were no blowjobs involved) when I headed to the pool at the Hard Rock Hotel. At that time it was still a cool place to hang out, and not overflowing with Southern California’s versions of Snookie and The Situation. I wouldn’t be caught dead there now. Whilst lounging in my adorable pink gingham bikini (custom made of course, stripper money remember?) I caught the eye of this delicious young man. 6’2″, blond, lean, 8 pack, and what I would later find out to be another 8, but in inches. Tattoos, shaggy long hair, and a look that said I want to, and definitely know how, to fuck you. Simon was a 22 year old model who liked nature, took long road trips in his old beat up truck, and talked to me about the universe in all the deepness a boy his age could muster.

We spent the next 3 days mostly in my hotel room where he proved to me that 22 meant nothing in the bedroom. Oh my, he is still at the top of that list 8 years later. I worshiped him like a God, and perhaps this was where it went badly for me. He took me to meet his parents and luckily did not introduce me as the stripper who had been begging for their sons cock every moment she could get it. Instead he treated me with respect and kindness, and I adored his company even being a few years older than him. We parted, and he promised to come see me in California the next weekend.

Upon another glorious weekend together at my place, there is a moment in time that stands out to me, and truthfully, nothing else. In the midst of a not so serious conversation he said to me “I just dont want to hurt you.” At my age, I have now learned that this statement really translates to “Fuck, Im already feeling guilty because I know Im going to hurt you.” I was surprised by his confession, and met it with a light and cheerful “Of course you wont hurt me, why would you?” We agreed to meet the next weekend in Vegas where I would work and we would spend some more time naked together.

The day before my trip we speak, and everything is just fine and dandy. He tells me he has a casting at 4pm, but will be done by 4:30, which gives me time to get there by 5:30. I spend the 4 and a half hour drive lusting wildly about him, thinking of all the ways I can violate him in my hotel room. I also want to hold his hand, kiss his cheek, and tell him how lucky I am to have met him. At 4:30 I give him a ring and get his voicemail. I’m about an hour from Vegas. 4:45 I call again to be sure and this time leave a message. 5pm comes around and Im getting concerned, as Im almost there. 5:30pm and no word. At this point my gut instincts are telling me to go into full blown panic mode. Is he ok, did he die in some sort of Zoolander style walk off at his casting? By 6:30 I have been driving around Henderson Nevada desperately trying to remember how to get to his parents house, but to no avail. The tears are close. I leave a couple of panicked messages proclaiming my worry about his safety. By sundown it is clear, he’s not calling me back. I go to my hotel room and spend the next 5 hours or so balling my eyes out leaving horrendously painful messages on his voicemail pleading for him to at least call me back and let me know what happened. The call never comes. Ever. Not in 8 years, and still not now. I leave Vegas two days later an absolute mess. I have never been so confused and alone, and I blame myself, but for what, I do not know.

Life goes on, and I never forget. The chip on my shoulder grows, my mistrust in men is solidified. I go through anger, guilt, fear, and absolute despair for quite awhile afterward. Years later I try his phone number to find it disconnected. Years after that a little thing called Google does the trick for finding out he lives in Europe now and is a working model. I find him on Myspace and send him a message but to no avail. Two years ago I see he is on Facebook and send him an email telling him there are no hard feelings and I hope he is well. His memory still makes me cringe in pain, and it might as well be when it first happened, except now the tears have been replaced by years of bitter confirmations about men.

So we come to last night as I am going through old Facebook emails deleting ones no longer needed, and here I stumble upon him again. With the same blind sadomasochism that I followed the first time I contacted him, I yet again can not resist. Except this time it was different, as I truly just wanted him to know that I was a happy person now, and I was sorry we left on such terrible terms. Karma meant something to me, and I didnt want to leave this life with the bad juju we acquired. I expected nothing, and in return I got an email and a friend request. I was shocked, and at the same time elated and defeated. Now I actually had to forgive him and mend my heart. He wrote:

“First of all, I would like to apologize to you for the way I treated you. It was completely unacceptable. It was nothing to do with you. It had more to do with my own insecurities. When I think back now, I am ashamed with myself for my immature behavior. I want you to know that I am truly sorry for any pain that I might have caused you.”

It’s not terribly deep or insightful, and satisfies no part of my egos need to hear him say “I love you, I want you!!” but it was the truth and it was enough. I lit a candle for him last night and asked the universe to help me let go. I also looked at his Facebook page for way too long, and felt that deep twinge of unrequited love and desire. No matter the apology, the forgiveness, or our growth as adults, it still comes down to the simplest of cliches from our childhood…we just want to be loved. When we’re not it fucking hurts, and no amount of resolution really makes us forget.