An example of irony in its most unfortunate form
For a reasonably attractive person with no seemingly visual facial deformities, an appetite for lust which can often not be quenched, and a goody drawer full of naughty toys that can be used either alone or with a second party present, I absolutely hate it—I mean HATE IT when my significant other looks at porn. I’m serious. Doesn’t matter what it is. Magazines, movies, strip clubs, even those call girl ads you find every week in LA Weekly, I hate it. In fact, I’ve had such a difficult time coping with it that I’ve even been to 3 different therapists. Acknowledging the fact that porn starts get paid to have sex and that in reality the whole thing’s just fiction anyway (sort of), I still cannot get past my insecurity of anyone I’m with watching and or looking at pornography. Now, I fully admit that I am a total hypocrite. Yes, I’m saying that I am a “do as I say not as I do” kind of person. I find it perfectly al right that I can look at naked people getting it on, but when it comes to him well then just forget it.
About two months ago Mr. T and I got in a HUGE fight about porn. At that time I was working at a job that had me in bed by 9 and up by 4. One night, I happened to wake up at maybe midnight with a low blood sugar, so I walked my tired ass to the kitchen to get some juice, and low and behold what do you think Mr. Marvelous was doing? He was jerking off to a porn while sitting at the kitchen counter and eating a sandwich. Nice picture, huh? You know, it’s amazing. When I ask him to take out the trash and put a fresh garbage bag in the can he can’t seem to do it. But give him a porno, a bottle of lube, and a mortadella sandwich, and suddenly he can multitask. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out good.
Now, two months later, here I am working for a porn company. Not only do I book porn stars and directors for interviews, but I’m actually friends with a couple of them on Myspace. For a person who hates her you-know-who from looking at you-know-what, the whole thing is just kind of fucked up. I must confess though that this whole experience has been surprisingly therapeutic. My anxiety about Mr. T looking at porn seems to be dissipating every so slightly day by day. Perhaps one day I will finally be able to accept that fact that he likes to look at porn. Until then however, I think I’ll just continue to hide all of my free “samples” inside the trunk of my car.
About two months ago Mr. T and I got in a HUGE fight about porn. At that time I was working at a job that had me in bed by 9 and up by 4. One night, I happened to wake up at maybe midnight with a low blood sugar, so I walked my tired ass to the kitchen to get some juice, and low and behold what do you think Mr. Marvelous was doing? He was jerking off to a porn while sitting at the kitchen counter and eating a sandwich. Nice picture, huh? You know, it’s amazing. When I ask him to take out the trash and put a fresh garbage bag in the can he can’t seem to do it. But give him a porno, a bottle of lube, and a mortadella sandwich, and suddenly he can multitask. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out good.
Now, two months later, here I am working for a porn company. Not only do I book porn stars and directors for interviews, but I’m actually friends with a couple of them on Myspace. For a person who hates her you-know-who from looking at you-know-what, the whole thing is just kind of fucked up. I must confess though that this whole experience has been surprisingly therapeutic. My anxiety about Mr. T looking at porn seems to be dissipating every so slightly day by day. Perhaps one day I will finally be able to accept that fact that he likes to look at porn. Until then however, I think I’ll just continue to hide all of my free “samples” inside the trunk of my car.
