4 Lessons From My Very Short Career As A Porn Star

“Baby, I have a question for you?” My girlfriend of two years had been quiet all morning –I knew something was up. This wasn’t any two-year relationship. She was a Kathy Ireland look-alike stripper who regularly brought girls home for both of us, we went to Swinging Conventions with the regularity most people put gas in their car and almost never fought. Yeah, I know, why did I let that one get away? File that under “young and don’t know what the fuck you got ‘til it’s gone.”

Anyway, on this morning she hit me with a question even I wasn’t expecting. “Would you make a porn with me? This producer guy, from Stiff Donkey Studios, I think his name is Van McSleazerman, asked me to do one. I want to just for fun, to be naughty. They pay the girls like, ten times what they pay the guy, but, I will give you half of what we make. I told him I would do it only if I got to pick the guy and he said that was cool. So will you do it with me?”

I pondered her question for about four-tenths of a nano-second. Paid to fuck? Money for doing something I loved to do, came as easily as breathing was going to be doing anyway? I nearly choked trying to get the “Yes!” out fast enough.

My girlfriend contacted the producer, he set a shooting date, and my porn career officially launched. As the day of the shoot approached I started wondering what it was going to be like; I mean, how it was going to go down, exactly. Was there some Dirk Diggler training regime or prep work I should be doing to get ready for my debut? I talked myself out of the need for any such foolishness — I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t know how to fuck, right?

The morning of the shoot came and my girl and I went down to the “set” which was on a private stretch of boardwalk in Pacific Beach. We recited some weak, awkward lines, then walked to a nearby condo and fucked like professionals in front of a camera. That was the eventual result—but I learned some lessons during the whole ordeal and I will share these with you.

LOTS OF THINGS ARE “EASY”…UNTIL YOU HAVE TO DO THEM

I was completely relaxed until two guys with cameras and tripod lighting walked into the small condo and started setting up. My girl and I were sitting on the small couch chatting with the “producer.” At this point I realized it was kind of a big deal what was about to happen. Meaning a bunch of other people were going to be running equipment, lighting, cameras, etc. to film us. So say, if for some reason, someone was unable to get a simple erection it would mean that all this equipment and personnel would be sitting idle. The whole filmmaking machine would grind to a halt. Hmmm…little pressure starting to build here.

Wait a minute. Hold up. All I have to do is fuck. Something that I love to do and am pretty good at. No problem, I got this. Right? Right? I am not going to be holding up an entire production because my mind is so freaked out about the possibility of not getting an erection that I can’t get one. Ah fuck, I mean it should be fine, but, just… what if it won’t happen? If my dick simply won’t comply– what will I do?

I couldn’t believe I was in this predicament — my mind running rampant, torturing and scaring me with a barrage of bullshit “what if” scenarios. I understood what it must be like to have to kick a last second field goal or make a free throw with a championship on the line. An act you have successfully done a million times, suddenly becomes a monumentally difficult task. Really, it’s just your mind fucking with you—laying out all the horrible scenarios that could occur if you “fail”. Then your body jumps on board with your mind and a whole slew of physiological changes occur that make the act harder to perform. It can be a slippery slope to a flaccid penis or a missed free throw.

WHEN UNDER INTENSE PRESSURE…BREATH AND DUMB YOURSELF DOWN

This worked for me — just breath. Start by getting control of the simplest bodily function you can. Just take in air—and let it out, slowly. Connect to your calm. Slowing your breathing will slow everything—your mind, your body, your movements, the train wreck of terrifying “what if” thoughts that are racing you to the brink of mental and physical breakdown.

As I sat on the couch listening to Van McSleazerman outline the script of how the scene was to unfold I just thought about my next breath and “dumbed myself down”. I barely heard him say, “We are gonna start out with her doing oral on you, then you doing oral on her, then missionary with a camera pan-in, then on to some aggressive doggy-style, then some hard-core anal then finish with the money shot on her face…”

Next, I blocked out everything around me — I found my island of inner tranquility in a raging sea of production crew, cameras, lighting, chaos, etc. I went Happy Gilmore. I developed tunnel vision and my surroundings no longer mattered — hell, we could have been filming on the fifty yard line during the Super Bowl half time show. I simply focused on the act, of which, I was familiar. I listened to my inner rationale which said, “Shut off your mind—and simply let the parts necessary for this job do what they do.”

As great an ally as your mind can be, it can also put you in check with overthinking, self-doubt and eventually total paralysis. It can fuck you up if you let it—turning you into a frozen, petrified idiot. Sometimes, the best you can do is shut it down, breath to gain control of the moment, and let the dumber parts drive.

COMPENSATION IN LIFE IS OFTEN NOT EQUAL TO EFFORT

All right, here it is…my “Life ain’t fair” rant. I am sure this news doesn’t come as a shock to any of you who have ever driven by a construction site. The poor son of a bitch down in the hole digging makes dog-shit compared to the supervisor who is paid triple to watch.

Similarly, in strait porn, guys make nothing and shoulder most of the pressure and workload — no stiffy, no movie. As I also discovered the challenge is not just getting hard but staying hard through multiple scenes. You need to arouse instantly, bang with the intensity of jackhammer while taking multiple breaks (while the girl fixes her makeup or applies more anal lube). As if this roller coaster of up and down isn’t difficult enough don’t even think about coming for the next hour as you move from scene to scene. If I was going to make a career out of being a stunt-dick I would down Viagra like multi-vitamins as I am sure the seasoned pros end up doing.

The women in porn get their picture on the box covers, make an ass-load of money, suck a little cock and lay there and take a pounding. I sweated my ass off, burned twice as many calories as a P90-Xer on crack and survived the total mind-fuck of having to keep getting hard on command over the span of two hours. I am not even asking for “equal work” as I understand the nature of human intercourse puts more on the dude, but, for fucks sake, how about close to equal pay?

I can already see the hard-core women’s suffrage feminist groups lighting their under-arm hair on fire in fits of rage over these comments. I know I am just pissing in the wind on this one — as the porn industry is based on selling to men and pay scales aren’t going to change any time soon. So, the meteoric one-movie porn career of Han Zantool (my stage name that appeared in way small print on the back cover) fizzled out unnoticed.

WHATEVER YOU DO, SOME WAY, SOME DAY, IT WILL TURN UP

If this thought makes you squirm, it should. Keep in mind, I made this one movie years ago before the shit-show of today’s social media. I can’t even imagine the fallout now. I took part for fun (obviously, not money) and didn’t care who knew but didn’t go around bragging about it. My girlfriend, who kept her stripping life hidden, immediately regretted making the movie. She got phone messages from male co-workers at her health care job commenting on her stellar “acting” skills. In addition, a male bank teller whom we both knew pulled me aside one day and discreetly asked, “Did your girl ever do porn? I was staying at the Holiday Inn recently and rented a movie—the girl in it looked exactly like her.” He never mentioned the stud balling her looked like my stunt double.

Time passed and I forgot about making the movie until one night I was at a restaurant with some old buddies from college. I was sitting across from my longtime friend, JK, and a funny look came across his face when I said I was considering getting fish. He looked like he was going to explode—like he could barely hold in whatever was on his mind. “So, are you going to get the fish?” he was on the edge of his seat.
“Yeah dude, what’s it to you” I asked.

“So, what you’re saying is you’re getting the Catch of the Day?” His eyes got as big as Frisbees. The title of my movie was…wait for it…yes, you guessed it—“Catch of the Day” volume eleven or something. He inched forward, barely able to stay seated waiting for my reaction. I smiled. Fuck, what else was I going to do?

“Dude, I have been waiting for years, for just the right time.” He had done a masterful job of leading me into that one so I let him have his moment but valuable lesson learned. Whatever you do, especially today with social media, nothing is safe no matter how long ago it occurred or how well you think you covered your tracks. So…when you least expect it—expect it.