When Your Ex Starts Doing Porn

You know what’s weird?

When you’re clicking through your daily porn feed and see a picture, thinking to yourself, “Huh, that guy looks like my ex-boyfriend D—,” and on closer inspection, realize that it is, in fact, your ex-boyfriend tied to that table and getting poked, prodded and fucked.

You know what’s even weirder?

When your ex has chosen your real life, unusually-spelled first name as his porn pseudonym. If you Google my first name you aren’t going to find that many people. An artist here, a eastern European airplane engine manufacturer there, a nonprofit doing good things over yonder. You find me, and now if you click a page or two deeper, you find my ex tied up and hanging from the rafters.

Supposedly, D— and I were each other’s first boyfriends. We met on a website for gay Christians. We lived about 11 hours apart by car. I was in college, he working in a shop owned by his aunt and uncle. We hit it off. I drove out to see him, he came and visited once, it all went well. I may have even tried a little bit of kinky play with him at the time – a little candle wax, if anything – but my memory is fuzzy. By all accounts we were a good match. About 6-8 months into it, he broke up. And to this day, I don’t exactly know why.

I got some half-hearted reason why it wasn’t working for him. We talked on and off after that, until he ultimately disappeared altogether. When I moved cross-country I had to drive through his town, so I dropped in on his office to try and get some truth out of him, a little bit of closure. It was fruitless, but it was closure. The next time I heard from him was about 10 months later, when he called to say he tested HIV+ and everyone else he’d been with said they didn’t and so that just left me to tell and ask, thus implying I’d been the source. A test later that day proved I clearly wasn’t.

Over the years, I pieced stuff together and in fact, I’m still piecing bits of the truth together. Today, I have absolutely no idea what, if anything, he ever told me was the truth. I may have been his first boyfriend but not his first playmate (I discovered recently on his blog he’d had a kinky encounter 2-3 years before we met). After I dropped in on his office, most of what he said was derailed by friends who called me to see if I knew where he was, because he’d stopped talking to them months prior. Updates to social networking profiles, pictures on forums, posts here and there, boyfriends’ blogs … the reality is I don’t think I have any idea who I was dating. But at the same time, I don’t think he knew either. It’s one thing to be finding yourself, another to weave a web of lies and half-truths. Maybe he dumped me because he ran out of stories to tell, or maybe it was just because I was fat, or maybe it’s because he felt he couldn’t admit what he was into because of our gay Christian backgrounds.

So here we are. Both kinky. Both into largely the same stuff. Me writing erotica and deep thoughts about my kinky self, him on the road to a porn career. I don’t wish him any ill will, no more than I would a stranger since that’s all he really ever was. Whether anything he ever was or said was true, he seems to be finding himself now and enjoying life, so good on ya, D—. Best of luck.

But as far as using my name? What the fuck is that about? There is no way in hell that was happenstance, you don’t choose my name out of a hat. Is it him trying stick it to me in some way? Is he trying to get my attention, assuming I’m watching search results? Am I still so always on his mind? Gimme a break.  It wouldn’t be hard to find out I’m a kinkster, one glance at my social profiles would be clear, so maybe he knows too. But why use my name? That’s just … weird. A touch insulting, maybe, a bit off-putting, a little crossing the line. It doesn’t directly affect me, it might just make personal brand management a little bit tougher. It’s mostly just … weird.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *