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. My first therapist–let’s call him Joe, was a free counselor at my alma mater in Milwaukee. Not that that there’s anything wrong with free therapy, but come on. You get what you pay for, right? He was a really nice man, and I may have even harbored some sexual feelings towards him, which could offer a fairly good explanation as to why there was no actual progress made during my 6 month stint with him. In fact, I had to stop seeing him because things got a little…shall we say “inappropriate?” If the school ever knew that I blew my free counselor at the end of every session, I really don’t think they’d ever have let me graduate. Although, I wonder if anyone has ever received an award for achieving the status of magnu cum-in my mouth? My second therapist, “Ellen,” tried to help my cope with my issues. We talked a lot about feelings: how I felt when I found out that my boyfriends were masturbating to porn. How I felt when they’d turn me around when we were in bed and ask if they could call me Destiny or Chyna. We worked through a lot of different issues together, me and Ellen. Unfortunately, it didn’t end well. Just as I thought that we were making progress, I was offered a job with Playboy Radio, and had to move from the great state of Wisconsin back to my old stomping grounds here in L.A. 

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 six months ago Mr. T-that’s my current plus 1- 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, several months later, here I am working for a quasi 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 informative, not to mention therapeutic.  I never realized how many uses one could find with a ball gag until I met Nicki Hunter. The things you learn when you’re rubbin’ elbows with the gifted! I love it though. I finally found a job where I can swear like a sailor, talk like a frat boy, and wear low-cut shirts without being scorned.  And 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.