Someone recently shared my blog with the caption that I ‘speak the truth.’ While it is very touching that she would say such kind words, it got me thinking. Do I really speak the truth, my truth? Sometimes, sure. But it’s rarely the whole story. I censor and edit because I know exactly who is going to read it, and like it or not I care what people think of me. This was difficult to write, and because of that, I know publishing it is the right thing for me.
So here’s some truth, and it’s probably going to get pretty uncomfortable for all of us. I’ve been indulging in some not-so-lovely behaviour for a while, and I would like to not. Maybe a public mea culpa will allow me to stop.
I made mention of the fact that someone I used to date is now making adult films with the person he left me for (if you’re reading, I know you don’t like me writing about this, but this is more about my issues than your extracurriculars, believe me). Now, for some, this fact might be worthy of some pearl-clutching. In my odd life, however, I’ve found myself escorting adult film stars to dinners and sex clubs for work promotions, I’ve been a pretty vocal supporter of the movement to decriminalize prostitution, and I generally believe in the ‘do what you want with your parts’ way of living. I’ve discovered, though, that all my sex-positive and liberal ways go out the door when it hits this close to home.
Truth be told, the porn is really just the newest development, giving me something fresh to focus on. As someone who works in the industry, she has a very public social media presence — and this is where the real trouble comes. I discovered said presence and all of its graphic, intimate details of their sex life about two hours after things ended (messily, but I have come to accept how big a role my willful ignorance played in this scenario). It was very good (if painful) closure at the time, or so I thought. Here’s what I’ve been leading up to for the past 300 words: I still look at her updates, every damn day.
Some of you might be thinking you would do the same, curiosity being a natural human response. We all know what curiosity did to the cat, and while it may not be killing me, it isn’t doing good things. I read the tweets, the Facebook posts, the blogs, and yes, I watch the videos (because apparently I am masochistic) … and I become unbelievably unkind. Unkind might be too nice a word. I become downright awful. I think mean thoughts, I say mean things (with my friends, because they support me), and I don’t like this gross side it brings out. In another life, I would probably end up at some of the events she frequents/runs (and in a ‘this city is too small’ coincidence, it could still happen since there is some social overlap with her and some people in my life). Instead, I’m all judgey and spiteful and projecting all of this jealousy/resentment/self-doubt onto a person I’ve never met and who has never done a single thing to harm me.
Intellectually, I know she and her profession and her social media musings have nothing to do with me. It literally is none of my damn business. It makes me toxic, yet I keep returning. Some well-meaning friends have suggested I just stop. It’s been going on for so long. They’re right. I’m still holding back; there are still things left unsaid, but for now (and maybe forever, at least on this topic), this is enough. I am sorry, and I am enough.