My name is Earnest, and I have a weird relationship with my porn. Let me start off by establishing that I am not a pervert. I enjoy porn in what I believe to be the adequate amount people should be enjoying porn. But, my porn collection has taken a life of its own, and my perception of that box of DVDs in the closet has changed forever.
I just turned thirty last week. While other people my age have mostly either celebrated or mourned their thirtieth day of birth with important loved ones, I went another direction. I broke convention, opting to stay in my apartment, alone, with nothing but the sounds of the city to accompany me. The perils of dating, falling in love with, and getting dumped by a porn star I guess.
She was an aspiring actress trying to make it big, and I was a guy that was too stupid to get out of the way. I met her during one of my early attempts at amateur adult film making. The moment she walked into my “studio”, which just happens to be my empty apartment, I knew there was something special about her. She was different from the other girls who just wanted to score some blow money. She was one of those girls who you knew for a fact was destined to shine brighter than the rest of us. She had a little Hepburn in her, and even while I was shooting her doing a lesbian sex scene with some crack whore I couldn’t even remember, her image never diminished in my mind.
We lived together for five years. Those were the good years. Of course, I still kept making her movies. But I never let another man touch her. I wanted to contain her in my world, and tried my best to replicate a glamorous life that she so richly deserved. But my meager efforts failed to provide her that.
So I sit now, debating internally as to whether or not I should watch that box full of porn or just throw it all away. The day she walked out on me for greener pastures I wanted to burn all those videos of her, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It remains my only connection to her. I keep freezing to the shot of her staring deep into my camera, with her Hepburn like eyes, speaking to me more than her mouth ever did.
