The phone rings and you hear the news. Your near-month of work and promotion has paid off and now you’re headed to the big leagues. There were no resumes or job applications; no, this call came from an anonymous Internet stranger who was somehow able to find your phone number.
His number was blocked. His voice was strained and gruff, likely from a diet subsisting exclusively of cigarette smoke and stray pubes. He sounded disgusting, but he said he’d liked your amateur work and raved about your artistic eye and the craft you’d put into each and every dorm-room cum fiesta that you’d filmed. The offer was on the table; he wanted you to direct. He said he needed you, mostly because his last cameraman/director had, just today, overdosed on coke. It was a no brainer. You told it was your dream job, accepted, and said to him you’d be on the next plane out and ready to get your hands dirty.
The first day on set is like sixth grade all over again—namely you’re all jitters and confusion while perpetually trying to conceal an erection. Overwhelmed, people are asking you production questions you had never thought about in your time as a novice. Complexity, multiple camera angles, the bleachers and mats that needed to be set up for scene with the high-school gangbang tryouts—it’s all more than you’d ever considered. You’re excited, but can’t help but reminisce on a simpler time when all you needed was a dorm shower, a Smartphone, and some “actors” with no shame.
Nevertheless, you persist. A fortnight in and you’re produced nearly forty features and are thoroughly desensitized to everything. Granted, you’re still a little green around the ears, but that likely just leftover friendly fire from this morning’s filming of “How the Grinch Stole Fistmas”.
In just two weeks you’ve consumed more porn than you had in the entire previous year. Long, not-flaccid days of shooting are exponentially lengthier than the forty-five-second daily increments to which you had grown accustomed. Hence, you’ve noticed you’re now taking your work home with you. Gone are the days when you could just relax, take in some Internet porn, and happily pump your meat stick. Now you’ve become bogged down in the technical details and constantly frustrated by your colleagues’ sloppiness and their uncreative take on every Hispanic Pool Boy Convention for MILFs.
This feels like a Twilight Zone episode. Like where you wish for an elephant-sized penis, but instead the genie just turns you into the Elephant Man. Your dream job has taken away the joy, routine, and complacency of coming home and easily flipping on some smut so you can manually pop off a dollop of that hot, man-yogurt and chill out.
Frustrated, you resolve to change your ways. You want something new, bold, and experimental so you’ll have something to watch that you aren’t already desensitized to. You can see it now—you’ll be lauded as the Terrance Malick or David Lynch of porn! No more sorority pussy-eating contests. No more dialogue featuring quips like “snaking that broad’s dumper pipe”. No more filming on location at the Big Sausage Pizzeria. No, from here on out you’re only attempting things that haven’t been done or even conceptualized before.
Alas, your ambition subsides into greater sexual frustration, and that sexual frustration slowly evolves into insanity. You’re filming white, black, and German whales get “harpooned”, but you’re always still chasing. With every boundary, moral, or hole you’ve watched people violate you’re only further desensitized. You’re drowning down the rabbit hole and are coming to terms with the fact that you might never again get to enjoy a pure, simple, old-fashioned fap.
Now, I don’t mean to derail your dreams with this tragic tale of misperception and woe. I’m a simple man with simple tastes, like chicken nuggets, regular jerk-off sessions, and barf-centric comedy. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m happy to leave porn to the professionals—I mean, unless of course, I’m in the mood and searching “amateur”.
Justin Gawel is an adult baby from Michigan whose articles appear on BroBible most Thursdays. Look for more of his writing, his BroBible.com archive, and his updates at www.justingawel.com or follow him @justingawel on Twitter.
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