That I’m a porn star.
In all fairness, I understand why:
I wrote sex advice for an instructional porn company, which I’ve been VERY vocal about by explaining to people, “I work in porn.”
However, what “working in porn” was like for ME consisted of me nerding out on my ASUS laptop in the corner of a room full of all men ALSO on computers in complete silence while writing sex tips and attaching pictures of a blonde-haired, gigantatitties white girl, under the guise that it was HER advising all these men.
I also blogged about my sex and dating life in Hollywood prior to GET to that point…
So people positing that I may very well have ended up FILMING pornographic videos of MYSELF thereafter isn’t too farfetched.
But I can say I never get tired of hearing, “OMG I heard you do porn now…” and having flashbacks to how UNporny my life and job actually were at the time.
The girl guys THOUGHT was teaching them “The Tantalizing Tongue Twister”. But the ACTUAL girl talking to them:
Image Credit: Jessica Lastimosa
David S. Rose
I was walking down the street one day about ten years ago when an acquaintance nearly bumps into me, does a double take, and exclaims, “You’re alive!”
I looked open-mouthed at her, and said “umm…yes, why wouldn’t I be?”
She replied “But I thought you were dead!”
Me, with a very puzzled look, “Why would you think that?!”
“Because of the Memorial Garden at Public School 6!”
“Whaa? What are you talking about?”
“You know! That garden next to the school: the David S. Rose Memorial Garden!”
I told her I had no clue as to what she was talking about, but I immediately walked over to the school, where right next to the front door I saw a neatly manicured flower garden, with a lovely bronze plaque saying “In Honor of David S. Rose”!
It turns out that my mother had donated a flower garden to the school in gratitude for my experiences there…and neither she, nor the school, nor anyone else had thought to mention it to me, and because of the plaque a fair number of people assumed I had passed away at an untimely age.
In my religious high school, we weren’t supposed to know about sex, movies and pop culture. We all did, but everyone pretended to be innocent and sheltered to protect their reputations. I couldn’t stand the facades, so I just said whatever I wanted to say.
As a result, the three bitchiest girls two grades above me decided I was a slut and started spreading rumors about me. Now while I think it’s great to be sexually active if you’re responsible and practice safe sex, being known as someone who was sexually active was social suicide in my school.
A few months before, they’d seen my friend talking to her cousin, a guy, when she bumped into him in the park.
So those bored souls started talking about how she had a boyfriend and had lost her virginity and blah blah…
Once that rumor ran its course, it was time for some new drama. I was the perfect candidate, I didn’t have a problem saying the word “sex” or talking about the movies I watched, the horror!
Soon my entire school knew that I had about 100 boyfriends and I was the sluttiest girl in the school.
The funniest part is that I’m gay, and I’ve never had a boyfriend.