This week a friend of mine from high school, let’s call her Wendy, popped into my head. I noticed I hadn’t seen her posts on Facebook in a bit and wondered about that because my publicist’s intuition told me she didn’t take a break from social media but decided to take a break from ME. It’s happened before, and lo and behold I was correct.
I’ve been unfriended, blocked and unfollowed on social media for various reasons: 1. I gotta big mouth and a weird sense of humor that not everybody gets, 2. my ex-paramours can’t handle seeing me going about my life without them, 3. because I work in the adult industry and for some reason posts and photos about porn stars offend them and 4. because my followers enjoy following my friends and not all of them are the most balanced or classy people in the world (but as long as they are polite I personally have no problem with them). But in this case, Wendy unfollowed me because of one social media follower, her 24-year-old son, let’s call him Jimi.
I was there when Wendy was pregnant with Jimi and living in New York City’s Chinatown; I was there when she gave birth to him three months premature due to toxemia. And when she shortly after packed healthy baby Jimi down south, I visited mother and childbearing gifts. Her marriage to Jimi’s father was ending, and she had a new man in her life (which followed a series of other so-called “soulmates”), and when she asked me if I could babysit so she could see her new man, I’ll admit, I said no because what the heck. Did I come all the way from New York so I could babysit? No, I don’t think so.
Jimi grew up to be a handsome but shy young man with an interest in the arts, and when he moved to New York City to go to school, I looked out for him in a Dutch aunt sort of way. I took him out to lunch; I bought him a phone when he lost his and gave him money from time to time. Jimi moved back down south and began texting and DMing me about one of my client’s transsexual adult stars, Mia Isabella. Jimi always knew what my vocation was. We never really talked about it as it wasn’t relevant to our relationship, but like any young buck, he followed my clients and me on social media and fell into lust with Mia. He would ask me questions here and there about her, fanboy questions, he would ask me for photos (publicity ones) he could download and keep, and each time we would have these short conversations Jimi would always say, “Please don’t tell my Mom. She hates porn and she hates me watching porn.” And being that Jimi was well over 18 and it was harmless I respected his wishes. And besides, what was I going to do? Text her, “Hey your son sure likes the ladies with a little extra?”
And then Jimi became more curious about the industry, specifically performing in movies. In DM and PMs Jimi told me that he and his friends made some amateur porn and he enjoyed it very much, and was curious about taking it to a more professional level and wanted to know how he could start. I told him the reality of what it is to be a real adult entertainer. I explained there were no real adult industry opportunities where he lived, and if there is anyone who has offered him work in doing scenes, chances are they were shady. I asked him to please not plunge into anything without checking with me. Although he is older than some of my clients, I felt he was more of a follower than a leader, a bit sheltered and thus ripe for being taken advantage of. “This is permanent and life-changing,” I remember writing to him, “Once you do it, there’s absolutely no going back to the way things were for you before.” I told him what it’s like to be a performer on set, what would be expected of him performance-wise and the average pay for beginners and men in general. I suggested he work on his body, hit the gym, explore his sexuality safely, decide what kind of character he would want to be and then get professional photos taken. I again underlined there was no relevant work where he lived and to go online and research agents and adult film companies. I even sent him flyers from Blacked when they were going to do open calls in Los Angeles. And after a few months of sporadic communication on the subject, I stopped hearing from him as much and didn’t think anything of it. At that age, your interests change like the weather, and I assumed he did about this.
Now it’s not the first time I’ve advised a friend’s son or daughter. Some years ago, another high school friend, one I knew much more casually, contacted me online asking if I could talk to her daughter about going into the industry and the best way to go about it. This mother was a lot more open and sex-positive— her email address WatchMommaSquirt said it all. This mom, let’s call her Abby, wanted her daughter, let’s call her Emily, to do it right if she was going to do it at all. “It’s something I’ve always wanted to do myself because I love sex so much, but I didn’t think I was pretty enough,” Abby told me. And then sent me some photos of her daughter Emily, which were all selfies and not very good ones. They were all face shots with what a barely legal young lady would think were sexy faces but in actuality looked like duck face with protruding lips and such. So sure, I spoke with Emily on the phone.
Emily told me that she, at the age of 19, was still a virgin but a very open-minded and sex-positive one. I told her that the adult industry was a great place to explore one’s sexuality and losing your virginity on set could be a really great publicity stunt (it’s been done before), but of course I went into the whole spiel about really needing to know what she’s getting into, how it will change her life forever and never think that friends, boyfriends, and coworkers won’t find out. That was a mistake many of my clients have made. I mentioned my client, the Duke University student-turned adult star, Belle Knox. “Yes, I love her, that’s why I’m contacting you,” said Emily. “I thought I could start with being a professional nude model. I want to be a Playboy Playmate first.” That set off warning bells in my head right away; nude modeling is a huge jump to doing hardcore porn. I asked her if she actually watched porn on the reg, and she said, “No not really.” Ding, ding, ding!
I told Emily before anything she needs to practice modeling, and the art of modeling. I explained about practicing poses in front of a mirror, finding a photography friend who could take professional photos to widen his/her portfolio. I explained selfies are no judge of true talent and going by what I saw she wasn’t ready yet. And when she was prepared to brace herself for rejection, criticism, more rejection and more criticism , I explained, “People are going to tell you to get a nose job and get a boob job,” I said looking at her amateur shots. “You don’t have to do that, but I know you will hear it.” I also advised her not to go by the positive feedback on social media. “People call people who are hideous beautiful because they are your friends or family or because they are a bunch of horny men.” I told Emily that nude modeling is not a full-time job not anymore and all those women she sees in “Playboy” do other things to make a living; things that are probably related to nude modeling, but other things none the less. That led to me explaining to her how much in reality she would make in general. That was an eye-opener for her. I could hear it in her voice. “That’s all? Really? No residuals?”
I asked her how often she masturbated, if she uses toys, if she orgasmed easily and if she squirted. I went deep, because the truth is very few people will, and in my opinion they should. I’ve been approached by so many beautiful young women who have told me they are ready to shoot, and when I got one or two an actual job on set, they were terrified, and production either stopped or they barely made it happen. And these people were strangers to me. How could I let the children of the people I grew up with go in cold? I can’t, no matter what I’ve done, no matter what I’ve experienced, no matter how old I am,. You can’t take the semi-religious Yeshiva girl out of my heart. And believe me, I’ve tried. If I even raise my voice to one of my clients, I will feel bad an hour later and apologize. Unless they are being total assholes, of course. I’m not a saint.
Emily and I talked for an hour and then requested me as a friend on Facebook. I liked all of her photos, and when merited I did throw a compliment here and there. I wished her a Happy Birthday, and she did the same for me. She never spoke about nude modeling or porn again, and I haven’t heard from her mother Abby about it either, and too bad for the latter because she’s a hot Irish chick with flaming red hair and a good body, and she’s proud to squirt. I think she’s the one who should try to be a porn star in the MILF genre.
So many parents think I may be a devil resting on their kid’s shoulder. We in the adult entertainment business aren’t like Jehovah Witnesses dressed in latex instead of suits holding copies of “Hustler” instead of “The Watchtower” going door-to-door looking for recruits. No, we are more like the Jews, like Rabbis, and if you want to convert you have to knock on our door and do it not once, but three times before we let you in and know you’re serious about it. We don’t need to recruit; there are thousands upon thousands of young people waiting to turn 18 so they can be the next Jenna Jameson. But still, the fear is real. More than a few of David’s friends told us they were not bringing their son to our wedding because “he’s easily influenced” or “easily excitable.” I told one concerned mother that I was getting married, not planning an orgy. And not only did we have a priest and a rabbi, but my elderly parents would be there, and my clients and adult star friends weren’t there to seduce young and nubile college students. They were there because they love me. What I really wanted to say was, I’ve seen your kids, they aren’t that good looking.” In an ironic twist, the person I should have warned everybody about was David’s father, who at the age of 81, came on to pretty much every single female in the reception. Big or small, Timothy Healy palmed the ass of them all.
So, I contacted Jimi on Instagram this week, and he told me his mother Wendy went through his phone and found our conversations. “I’m sorry Lainie. I told her that I was the one asking you all of the questions and that you were just being nice. By the way, you’re right I would have to go to LA if I want to get started,” he wrote and then he went on to say that Wendy was shocked and upset that he was watching transgender female porn. “She thinks porn is bad for me. I know she treats me like I’m still a kid.” I can’t say I wasn’t offended at that part particularly. Wendy never struck me as a homophobe. She was educated and had a diverse group of friends in New York. We grew up together, and she was a dork, the sort of person you see on a show like “Glee.” She broke into dance in the middle of crossing a street. She worshipped Prince and David Bowie and wore a ratty army jacket all through her freshman year in high school. Wendy was also not at all shy with her own body; she went through more men by the age of 21 than most middle-aged women have. But of course, she claimed she was in love with every man she spread her legs for, as some women use that label to justify being one dick-loving bitch.
Why didn’t Wendy talk to me first? We’ve known each other for over 30 years, had been through some shit together. And when she was homeless, I invited her to stay with my parents for however long she needed. But that was life before porn, and when she was a lot younger, around Jimi’s age. “It’s okay,” I said, “No worries, don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault. But I think it’s time you moved out of your Mom’s house and grew up a little. You’re almost a quarter of a century years old.” I didn’t feel any remorse for talking to Jimi about porn and porn stars; I would do it again. Asking questions is what people should be doing. That’s how you learn about everything. And unless your son or daughter is into barn animals or kiddie porn, there’s no reason on earth you should porn shame anybody. And maybe these parents should remember what rang their bells back in the day and take experience and that knowledge and have an awkward but necessary chat. I can hear Wendy saying, “I stopped being your Facebook friend, but I’m still your real friend.” And when that time comes, I will welcome her back, because us porn people, we believe in second, third and fourth chances, even if the rest of you don’t.