More on Porn

I said at the end of my last post that I would let you know if anything exciting happened at the after-party for the gay porn awards. I didn’t write because, while the club was pretty amazing, nothing sexy happened. The only mildly interesting thing I saw was a very large (350-400 pounds) drag queen in a gigantic Marilyn Monroe wig sitting at the edge of a bed that was in the VIP area, stroking the flaccid penises of two porn stars. Now maybe if the penises had been hard I would have written sooner. Or maybe if they had just been surprisingly long or big or somehow special, I would have written sooner. But the penises could have been any penises in the middle of the size/pretty bell curve that I witness daily in the shower at the gym, and the “porn stars” (who I had never seen before) actually looked a little bored. Therefore, I really didn’t think it was noteworthy. Before the night was over my boyfriend talked another guy who is completely unrelated to porn into showing us his penis. His was twice as fat as the alleged “porn stars”. So at least by the time we left, I felt that Phil Super Thick, as I called him, had at least partially satisfied my voyeuristic craving.

Since I don’t have a fun porn story from that night, I thought I would tell the story of a gay-for-pay friend I had in San Diego . This was during the mid-90’s, in my early days out of the closet from the age of about 18-20. I met Justin when a girlfriend of mine dated him for a couple months. Even though they didn’t last, he became part of our circle of friends. I’m not sure why he hung out in the gay scene as much as he did, particularly considering that he was always on the hunt for vajayjay, but I suspect it was because guys flirted with him a lot more than women did, and Justin really liked being flirted with. That same desire for attention led him to do gay porn, and then eventually to being a hooker.

Interestingly, Justin was the only person I ever knew, straight or gay, to actually stand in Balboa Park and pick up tricks. There is a section of Balboa Park in San Diego that is known for hookers, and it had the reputation of being the bottom of the barrel type of hookers. (Bruce Springsteen wrote the song Balboa Park about it.) Justin was a pretty hot guy with a big uncut penis (never saw it myself, but I ran into a photo of him when I was cruising for porn about a decade ago). I figured he could have made a lot more money by putting an ad in the paper or something, but I think that would have signaled too much commitment to the idea for him. As long as he was just going to do it “this once”, then it didn’t mean anything.

One night I even remember calling him and saying that a group of us wanted to go out, but probably wouldn’t because we didn’t have any money. He said, “Pick me up, drop me off at the park, and come get me in an hour. I’ll take us all out tonight.” I said, “Ok.” When I picked him up an hour later he had $80 and said he just sat in some guy’s car and got a blow job. That didn’t seem like such bad work. I really did appreciate him paying the cover, getting us drinks, and buying me a burrito after the bar closed.

Justin had always been sober, and I mean completely sober. But in about 1996 he moved up to LA, and on the train to LA he met a girl who had ecstasy with her. They were flirting a lot, and Justin was ready for an adventure. She asked if he would like to take a pill. He did. They were high for a couple hours on the train and then hung out that afternoon in LA. That transition ended up being a big one for Justin. Once in LA he started partying a lot, and it became clear from our infrequent phone conversations that Justin wasn’t handling drugs well. Rowena and Umecke and I went to visit him a couple times, and I think the best way I can describe him is unstable.

One night we went up and stayed at his apartment in Hollywood . We all went out, and then after the club went back to Justin’s house to sleep. We stayed up talking for a while, but Justin was pretty incoherent, clearly not just from drinking. He had a light saber that he kept playing with, and eventually was laying on the ground staring at it. The girls and I eventually went to sleep, and when we got up in the morning Justin was on the ground in the same place with the blanket pulled over his head. We quietly got our stuff together and cleaned up, then started heading out. On the way out, I pulled the blanket down to kiss his cheek and say goodbye, and when I did I saw his eyes still wide open, staring at the light saber that was still tightly gripped in his hands. I asked if he was ok. He nodded yes. The girls and I felt very uncomfortable. We left.

Another time Rowena and I went up to LA together and went out with Justin again. He was living in a different apartment this time on Sunset in West Hollywood . We had a good time out, and afterwards went back to his apartment. Rowena and Justin had been a little nitpicky with each other but I didn’t think it was anything serious. Rowena and I sat on the couch while Justin went and got a bowl of cereal. We all talked for a bit, and then Rowena started falling asleep on my chest. Justin and I talked quietly about the night, and as we talked, he reached under the chair he was sitting in and slowly pulled out a gun. He never stopped the conversation, and never took his eyes off mine. I realized at that point that Justin had gone a bit crazy, and I was scared. He wasn’t pointing the gun at us or anything, just holding it in front of him. I waited for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably 20 seconds, before I whispered to put it away. He didn’t move. Then I rubbed Rowena’s side and said, “Honey, wake up. I think we should go home now.” As soon as she started to move he quickly put the gun back underneath his chair. Rowena never saw it. She didn’t understand why we were leaving, but I insisted that I wanted to drive back to San Diego that night and we had to leave now. She saw that I was serious and said goodbye to Justin. I told her the story as we drove, and I said at that point that I would never see him again.

This all came to mind recently because, after 11 years, Justin sent me a message on Facebook last week. From his 10-sentence email it sounds like he is sober, and sane, and well. I hope that’s the case.

Wow, I bet when you saw “Porn” in this title you thought you were in for a sexy story. Sorry. But seriously, that’s an interesting story, right?