There’s a certain kind of epiphany you feel when you come to find out your wife’s been cheating on you.
It starts with this sense of blindness in all you’ve ever perceived. You become fill aware of the disloyal trust you’ve given into. Believing in that misguidance with all your heart. Letting it control you for a period of time you’ll never get back. Only to have it leave you wondering if you can trust whatever else is in your perception.
I advise you don’t wonder too much. It’ll get to you.
Like this one night, I was drinking and wondering when I ended up starting a bar fight with a friendly stranger. He was just trying to make friendly small talk about my wedding ring, but I couldn’t take it. His all-too-friendly reminder just got to me and I had to fight off my pain.
Admittedly, alcohol has always brought out the worst in me. Only recently had I managed to kick the habit. Christine kept threatening to divorce me if I hadn’t. I hate to tell you I used to get really aggressive with her. There was never any physical pain, but my verbal abuse probably hit twice as hard.
When I sobered up, I realized that deep down, I was desperately afraid of losing her. That my aggression was a repression of my love. And truly, I didn’t know how to properly handle such a delicate emotion.
Then it turned out she was fucking someone else and I started drinking again.
As this wonder boils into a turmoil, you can expect this overwhelming sensation of regret. You regret ever getting married in the first place and all the stupid decisions you’ve continuously made since the divorce
The combination of the two really gets you thinking you might not be wise enough to grabble your own life – your own destiny.
After my wife cheated on me, I had the epiphany that until this point, I had been a blind, clueless bastard.
With this, I started wondering about other aspects of myself. Like why I went to college to get a degree for the sake of making my parents proud. Only to realize I have to repay a load of debt that financially guided me on a career path I loathe.
I sat at my desk eight to four, five days a week, wondering why the fuck I never bothered trying to make money with something I felt passionate about. Like drinking.
Eventually, all this reached a boiling point and my thoughts exploded into a wonder about the future. I knew all to well I couldn’t fuck up this bad again.
I contemplated greatly as to what could be left of my youth. At the age of twenty-five, I felt I still had some time before my mind would settle. Some time to fix the nightmare Christine has left me. The nightmare of not trusting my own perception.
The funny thing is, this made me really consider what I was truly passionate about. Honestly, I couldn’t come up with much.
I knew there had to be something. For if there wasn’t, I doubt I’d have bothered to continue living. Something made me want to see more of life. A little something makes everyone want to see more of life. As to what that something is was beyond me.
That passion did hit me, in fact. It started in a strip club this one summer night. There were these two feature dancers – a couple of women that had developed a perverted fanbase. I didn’t know anything about them, but my best friend Charlie did. He was the one who took me. He was also the only one I knew to be enthusiastic about my new bachelor status.
“Fresh pussy,” he repetitively told me. “That’s all you need.”
Back in high school, Charlie and I were admittedly fuck boys. We had this competition to see who could have sex with the most girls by graduation. He inevitably won because I fell in love with Christine.
Still, more often than not, I reflect on that little competition of ours and all the girls it led me to have sex with. I don’t know what was going on in my head, but I remembered feeling so instinctually free. Like a wild animal, there was very little that held me back. And it felt so good.
The thing is, Charlie was still very eager about fucking lots of women. He had been since our competition. I think this night out at the strip club was an attempt to get the blood pumping again.
We were sitting on the left side of a blue-lit stage. A little curtain hanging in front of us where all the ladies came from. A good view for a quick close up. But once they made it to the pole in the center, there were too many horny heads in the way to see. I was drinking some bourbon and trying to fight back the thought of Colin looking at my wife in the manner I was looking at those strippers. It was making me sick watching these women reveal themselves so fervently. It made me wonder of Christine revealing her sexual vehement to Colin.
I swallowed the last of the bourbon and ordered another. I couldn’t be thinking this way around Charlie. It had been too long since the last time we hung out and way too long since the last time we did something along these lines together.
I needed to enjoy myself and there was no reason I couldn’t around a bunch of sexy women.
If only I didn’t feel so insecure.
You see, the envy I felt towards Colin was out of an anxiety I was feeling for myself. Three years ago – October 21st, 2016, to be exact – I had settled on the notion that I wouldn’t need to ever put myself out there again. That I had found the source of all my sexual necessities and didn’t need to bother with the attempts of discovering someone else to help me in that regard.
Sitting in the middle of a strip club, with a bunch of women shaking their wonders in my face, I was all too aware of my desperate position. The position of being forced again into the wild hunt of finding someone to secure my sexual necessities.
“Let’s get out of here, Charlie.”
“Bullshit,” he argued. “Emily hasn’t even gone on yet.”
“I can imagine she’s all the same as these whores.”
“You’d think that, but you’d be wrong. She’s something else, man. Trust me.”
I shouldn’t have interfered with Charlie’s vibe. He only had good intentions. I just couldn’t stop wondering. I couldn’t stop letting it get to me.
“What makes her so different?” I asked.
“Oh, Johnny. Lemme tell you, there are two things about Emily I’ve never found in another woman.” Charlie stopped. You could tell he was pondering the thought of this infatuation.
“For one, she holds a natural beauty that’s so rare these days. I’m saying if you saw this woman just rolling out of bed, hungover out of her mind, she would remain incredibly gorgeous.” He pondered again. “Secondly, she’s got a warm personality. The kind of woman you’d introduce your mother too. Very friendly. Extremely charming. And behind closed doors,” he let his voice dip to a whisper, “the sexiest, freakiest fucking girl you’ll ever see.”
There’s a quick moment of disconnected silence. “How the fuck do you know all this?”
Charlie laughed, “She’s a porn star. I’m a member of her site and she puts up all kinds of stuff up there besides sex videos. Blogs, vlogs, what-have-you.”
I felt a sort of odd at this point. Charlie was a twenty-five-year-old man digitally following the life of some chick who fucks on camera for money. Truly, I didn’t understand it. But I think what really made me feel odd was every other man in the room must’ve been doing the same.
For when Emily came on-stage, an overabundant applause swept across the room. The alcohol was running through every one of these lustful bastards. You could smell their testosterone sweating all around.
To my surprise, from the curtain in front of me, one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on appeared. I couldn’t believe it, but Charlie was right. I don’t think there’s a thing this woman could do to make herself less gorgeous.
Though her body was pristinely petite while remaining curvey in womanly features, it was her face that made my head turn. There are no words to describe its perfect construction. Beyond beauty model, beyond Hollywood actress, this Emily had a face I think any man could fall in love with. It was cute and sexy and beautiful all at once. It wore a smile so contagious, I was instantly hypnotized.
But most of all, it wore these two eyes that just beamed into your soul. They seemed so full of nurture. A kind of tenderness that makes men allow vulnerability to overtake them. Whether it be emotional or sexual, it didn’t matter. Emily wore the face of a goddess you didn’t question.
When she started dancing on the strip pole, it felt absurd she should know so many attractive moves. You wouldn’t think of this work if you walked past her on the street. You’d think she held some kind of respectful career in a respectable office for the sake of respecting herself and those around her. You wouldn’t think she’d let this lot of bastards get their dicks happy as she revealed all her hidden desires.
Though I couldn’t get that notion out of my head, there just couldn’t be any questioning. I would’ve done anything to have this beauty for just twenty minutes and I was far too aware of it. The more this compulsive desire hammered into my conscious, the more I felt myself getting a hard-on as she danced. I swear, I felt entirely hypnotized.
And no woman has made me feel that way since Christine.
I downed the bourbon and ordered another. After spending about twenty minutes drinking and staring and sexually daydreaming, I really needed some fresh air. Though the city of Los Angeles doesn’t offer much of that, I couldn’t be suffocated in that room of lust for too long. It was too much for my already vulnerable mindset to handle.
Being that Charlie was my ride for the night, I wasn’t all too sure what to do when I stepped outside. As I had planned, I breathed in the smog-filled air with much assurance. It felt good to at least have a change in environment.
I stood there a while holding off the thought of going back in when a round businessman stepped out of a side door. He pulled out a cigarette, smiled at my awkward stance, and held out his pack of smokes, “Want one?”
I hadn’t intaken nicotine since I was twenty. I gave up the habit because Christine hated it. It’s funny, since then, I hadn’t really put much thought into taking it up again. That particular moment seemed like an alright time. “Sure.”
He wattled his way over and lit me up. It had been so long, my lungs were incapable of the sensation and I ended up coughing one of them up. This made the businessman laugh.
“So, you enjoying the show?” he asked.
“Would you consider me gay if I wasn’t?”
He laughed again, “No. I’d consider making improvements on the next one.”
“You work for the club?”
“I work for Emily. Actually, vice versa. I’m her agent.”
“You’re telling me porn stars have agents?”
“Of course they do. The whole business is like a raunchy Hollywood.”
This took me by a surprise that catapulted into an intrigue. For some reason, I began thinking of myself as a porn star. Maybe it was just the alcohol swimming in my blood or maybe it was the envy fueling my decision-making. Whatever it was, it was out of my element to ask, “Do you get gigs for male talent?”
He looked at me with this peculiar hesitation. It was one of those looks that had “get outta here” written all over it. I immediately got this sense of shame. For some reason, I got this idea that no one would want me in that fashion ever again.
“How bigs your dick?”
“If you want to get into the bumsiness, professionally speaking, you need at least eight inches. No joke.”
Come to think of it, I had never measured myself. I mean, it just wasn’t a piece of knowledge I never needed to know.
“I’ve never measured it.”
“You want to be a porn star and you’ve never bothered to measure your cock?”
I threw the cigarette only half finished. I was getting dizzy and almost feeling like I needed to puke. But I held it back. I went outside for air and instead of finding relief, I get this fatass putting down my self-esteem.
No, I’ve never measured my cock. I just want to have sex with beautiful women on camera and get paid to do it. I’m sure you get tons of men trying to do this sort of thing, but I’m different. Just let on the loose again after three years of being chained. And let me tell you, I’m so full of horny energy, I could just about fuck the world right now if possible.
The alcohol was really making me want to win over this situation. I felt this aggressiveness rush over me similar to the way it did when I argued with Christine. There was a disagreement placed .before me and I just couldn’t shake off the idea of losing. No fucking way. Even if I was wrong, there had to be some little way where I was right.
“Are you telling me when you seek out a male talent, you’re only looking for a big dick?” I drunkenly began. “The only reason I ask is because I’ve been told by many, many beautiful ladies that I have a talent worth more than self-pleasure. A passion that goes beyond the limits of getting myself off. You seem like a man who knows his way around the industry. Like a man looking for talent men with a sense of passion. I just figured I’d give it a shot by asking. But if you’re so worried about dick size, it’s cool with me. I heard that amateur stuff’s getting pretty popular.”
That part of the many, many women was a total lie. In fact, most of what I said was entirely bullshit. Recalling it now, I don’t even know why I let all those words slip out of me. I was feeling a passion, no doubt. But it wasn’t for sex. It was to prove that motherfucker wrong.
After spending the previous three years of my life in a slowly evaporating pit of marital propaganda, what rose within my spirit was an urge to prove everyone wrong. To prove that I could trust my own perception even if it had denied me so harshly before. To prove to myself that the world was wrong.
“You have any videos of you fucking?” the fatass asked. It was during the week prior to this conversation that I had found a video on my computer of me and Christine on our honeymoon. We were going through this period where we were extremely horny for one another and made love any chance we got. With the help of alcohol, this extreme lust seemed to always turn into some of the most aggressive intercourse I ever had.
It was that kind of sex you never wanted to end. The kind that pushes you past your limits only to build up the climax as much as physically possible.
I had downloaded the video of Christine and I having this kind of sex to my phone with the intention of blackmailing her. I never ended up doing so because I had drank myself to the point of forgetting every night since.
Still, I felt no reason I shouldn’t use the material as a means of proving this man wrong. And from the look on his face, it seemed I did.
“You look younger here,” he muttered.
“Hey, we all gotta age, man. That doesn’t mean we lost that spark of lust.”
“Why don’t you come upstairs with me.”
We were in this dimly lit room that was furnished for absolute comfort. Large beanbag-like armchairs, couches that extended the length of the wall, and a fluffy cheetah printed rug that lied across the entire floor. The room was filled with a distinct crowd. There was an abundance of half-naked (some entirely naked) women and about a dozen men dressed in luxurious casuals. Everyone was drinking, smiling, and having a relaxed good time.
The businessman – who finally introduced himself as Tony – walked me over to a man dressed a blazer, an ironed button-down shirt, a scarf, and a vintage cap. There was this very serious look in his eyes. As though he was observing the room with intensity and complete concentration on finding the art behind it.
“Fabio, I’d like to introduce you to Johnny,” Tony said, breaking Fabio’s concentration. “He’s interested in the business.”
Fabio took on looked at me and lightly waved his hand.
“Tony, I don’t understand why you keep pulling these scumbags off the street and telling me they’re talent,” Fabio asserted.
“This guy’s different. You should hear the way he speaks of sex. Lots of passion. And this video!”
As Tony is about to pull out the video, Fabio showed who had the upper hand, “Yes, him and every other horny nimrod down there.”
This is when Tony’s drunken aggression seemed to take over him. “You’re such a contradicting bastard. You tell me to go out and find more male performers and every time I bring you one, you just assume he’s not worth a damn.”
“Look at him, Tony. He’s built like a twig and has the face of a depressed husband. I’ll tell you this much, he isn’t turning me on. No offense, Johnny.”
“My God, Fabio,” Tony continued. “When are you gonna realize that what we’re doing here is anything but art?”
“Everything’s art when you look at it through the right lens,” Fabio didn’t think to say as he walked away.
Tony turned to me with a belligerence I had only seen while looking in a mirror. It was obvious that we both suffered from that same drunken idea that we had to be right. No matter what the circumstances are.
“Fabio’s the big director right now,” he told me. “Everyone’s asking him to shoot. But he’s one of those hipster sons of bitches that thinks his vision is the only one suitable…”
Tony seemed to enter a certain frame of thought. One that was deep in contemplation. Seeking out a scheme of sorts, no doubt. But not entirely sure of the direction.
“Hey,” he turned to me again. “You think you can do what you did in that video right now?”
“I mean, I don’t see why not,” I lied.
“You really want this job?”
I was going to need another drink to convince myself I did, but luckily, they were all around.
“Let’s prove Fabio wrong then. You wanna prove Fabio wrong?”
“Fuck that Fabio son of a bitch.”
Tony grabbed me with much excitement. And with that, Emily suddenly appeared not too far in the distance. She was sweating and had an armful of money as though she were cradling it like an infant.
Still, she remained all the same in that nurturing expression. And I was almost immediately hypnotized again.
As she skipped over to us with a smile so compulsively eager, my body was entirely numbed. Warm vibrations swept all around me almost like when I had a crush on a girl in high school. Truly, I was entranced in a reality beyond the depths of sober perception.
She gave Tony a huge hug, “Oh, baby, tonight was the biggest. I’m saying, these men must own businesses or something because they weren’t afraid to throw all them Franklins my way.”
This is when I believe I fell in love. For not only was the perfect construction of her face radiating to me in such a close vicinity, but she had that classic southern accent. The bubbly kind that made her feminine attributes heighten.
“Listen, Emily,” Tony pronounced. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“You and your favors,” Emily joked.
“I need you to fuck my good friend Johnny here.”
She gave me this quizzical face then turned to Tony, “Honey, don’t I fuck enough men for you?”
“Trust me, Johnny here could be the next big thing.”
“I’m serious, he’s got a passion for this work. A passion that…”
“…goes beyond self-pleasure,” I finished.
She looked at me curiously which immediately led me to assume there was some attraction. Oh, the wonders of the drunken imagination.
“And for what reason do I have to fuck him?”
“Fabio thinks he ain’t worth a damn.”
“Fabio thinks all your ideas ain’t worth a damn.”
“Precisely, I’m about to prove that son of a bitch wrong.”
Emily looked at me again, this time with less indecision. As though an idea had hit her at that moment. I think she might’ve been a little drunk herself.
“You know what? I’ll do it on one condition,” she announced.
“Anything for you, my darling.”
“We do it right here, in this room, and film it for my site. Not Fabio’s site. Mine!”
“We don’t have a camera.”
“Everyone here has a camera in their pocket. In fact, maybe we should make it look like shit cause that amateur stuff’s getting pretty popular.”
Holy shit. How the hell did I end up here?
I came to this club with my best friend for the sake of getting my mind off Christine. His enthusiasm for this woman seemed so lustfully false until I laid my eyes on her. Then, I think as any humble man just might, I fell in love with her for the briefest of moments. A quick rush of infatuation.
Now, to what will soon be Charlie’s jealousy, I was about to have sex with her. For no other reason than I had to let my drunken mouth babble into thinking I had what it takes to be a porn star. For no other reason than I had to be right in a moment of wrong.
Even though my inebriation was controlling my judgment, I knew even then I was in over my head. I’ve spent the last three years restricting myself for one woman who eventually lost interest in fucking me. And now, I put myself in a position where I had to release all the sexual tension building up into a beautiful stranger around too many unfamiliar eyes.
This broke my comfort zone greatly. However, I was also so tired of my very existence, I truly felt like there was nothing to lose. I mean, worse comes to worse, they laugh at me, put down my already low self-esteem, and this becomes another comical memory I tell my friends.
If best comes to best, maybe – just maybe – I’ll have the opportunity to find a driving passion.
TO BE CONTINUED
Illustration by A.D.D.