MY VERY OWN PORN STAR NEXT DOOR

I don’t use the word porn star too loosely or generously, because the “star” label in porn gets used by just about anyone with the guts to spread their cheeks and shoot their man chowder in front of a lens.  Most of these guys never see their big brown eye on the cover of a box, or on the main banner of a website, but they instantly dub themselves and they are strangely worshiped by common folks as stars.  I say there is a distinction between a porn star and a porn person.  I wrote about it in a column that got me into a shit load of trouble with the porn industry way back when (It was called “Nine Inches of Separation,” but let’s not rehash that ugly can of man chowder).

I totally recognize that the guy who lives next door to me at the moment is a High Def pornographic STAR.  I’m talkin’ about Falcon Studios exclusive porn stardom.  I’m talkin’ about my friends want to visit my home all of a sudden with the hopes of running into him in the hallway.  I’m talkin’ about being constantly asked, “SOOooo…how is your neighbor doing these days?”  I’m talkin’ about going from being an A in my building and having that A free-fall to a B—I was actually dragged down to a C for a while, because Porn Star Neighbor had an equally–if not way hotter boyfriend living with him in the beginning  (just kidding about where I rank in my building by-the-way; I seriously have nooo idea who lives in my vicinity).

He and his boyfriend moved into the neighborhood looking camera ready with perfect tans, crisp haircuts and freshly pumped muscles.  I was like, “Uh-uh, you two bitches need to GO!  I don’t like your kind living next door to me looking all hot and cute and shiiieeettt…”—The boyfriend became the ex after a few months, which was a shame, because aside from being equally-if-not hotter (waaayyy hotter with a boyish face, black lashes swooping over bright blue eyes and a masculine military haircut), the guy was also chatty and sweet to me whenever we ran into each other outside my building.

I don’t really keep up with latest shipment of gay porn studio exclusives who tend to look very similar to gay porn exclusives from the past.  I first found out the new guy living next door did porn when he graced the pages of the erotic section inside Frontiers Magazine where I am a contributing writer.  It was a typical West Hollywood moment where I was like, “Where do I know that face gracing this new box of porn?”  I didn’t know he was a Falcon exclusive until I accidentally stumbled upon a video clip on Tumblr where my next-door neighbor was bent on all fours and screaming his head off…like it…um, “hurt.”  I’m sorry, but his door is right across from mine; I see him almost every day down the hallway, I run into him at the gym, and on the street.  I couldn’t watch him “take it” for too long.

I try to be a good neighbor and pretend like I don’t know who he is, because I assume he wants it that way.  I don’t overdo it and and act like a dork going, “howdy neighbor.”  Sometimes I want to, but I don’t give him any knowing looks, or a thin-lipped grin when I pass by him, nor do I throw a Bible at him and shout “HEY WHORE” down the hall.   I simply say hello when I run into him, like living next door to a porn star is no biggs, because it really isn’t.  He’s just a guy with two little dogs, no different than the rest of us doing the best that he can with what he’s got (insert nasty pun here).   Sometimes he’ll be in the company of another guy who looks vaguely familiar, but I just keep stepping and play it off like I’m not in the know and like I don’t care, because I really don’t—I’m a do me and you do you, Boo.

I still say too many porn people litter the streets of WeHo–not enough stars, but I’m forever reminded that porn people are people too.

WELCOME TO WEST HOLLYWOOD!!!

Luv,
Me