Devon Hunter

Okay, I have to admit something: I’ve been a horrible bitch lately. I have a “good” excuse… well, as good as I can come up with: Swinging Richards. It’s one of the only all-nude gay strip clubs in the country, and the guys there are intimidating to say the least. Match that with my personality conflict with the self-loathing gay manager and you get a pretty stressful situation in my head.

The last time I was there the manager called me fat (which is one of my demons), and said all sorts of disparaging comments to me about being gay (even though he has a boyfriend). Yeah. Um. Okay.

Anyway, the pressure there is high, and in order to get ready I’ve started taking these metabolizers to help me shred off the visceral fat the girdles me on my bellybutton and around to my lower back. These pills are making me crazy. I hate them. I feel anxious, watery, jittery, and angry. I get nauseated. It says they don’t have stimulants in them, but I don’t see how that’s possible. Still, I feel obliged to take them, since they cost $150 and I have the incentive of not being called fat again (if they work).

I have a lot of conflicts about Swinging Richards. For a long time most of the dancers have been straight or paysexual, trying to pass for bisexual (but most coming up short, with buysexual). I’ve talked enough about my political objections to gay men giving money to straight guys. If I’m choosing to go back, then I have to swallow all the bitter pills that come with it…

I’m at a crossroad. Back in June of 2008 I sent some cellphone pics to Sean Cody, more as a joke than anything else. But they emailed me back and asked for more. I thought to myself, “Yeah, right.” But I sent them a batch of better pics. They emailed and asked for some professional pics. Suddenly I thought to myself, “Oh. Shit. I didn’t expect this much interest.” I freaked out a little. I fell out of touch for months, but when I got some new portraits taken a few weeks ago I figured I should follow up. I emailed the new pics. This time they didn’t email me…

Sean Cody called me.

Um. Wow. Nothing has been offered or discussed. They just wanted to let me know that they got the images. Production has to make a decision and call me back. So… If I am not accepted then I will just continue on as I was, because doing porn wasn’t something I’d actually thought much about (and have no idea how to navigate). But if they do ask me to work with them… um. Wow.

At the right is one of their models. “Harry,” I believe. You can click “Harry” to see a larger image of him. I have some thinking to do… This was just a fun fantasy, I didn’t think I’d actually have to consider what I would do if the opportunity made itself available. I know what the possible consequences of doing porn would be. I’m not stupid. And none of that scares me off. I never wanted to run for public office anyway…

I’m in the midst of a crisis: I just realized that one of the singular events that not only helped me survive is also the single experience that inhibits me the most from growing. When a weight that helped build strength becomes a heavy burden, it is time to put it down and rest. That is easier said than done.

When I was about 10 years old I was still tiny. I was the same size all the way from 3rd grade until about 7th. I just didn’t have a growth spurt until 8th grade, which lasted me until about 11th. I didn’t change much from 12th grade through college and after graduation. Only very recently have I been able to gain muscle mass. In other words, I’ve always been small, especially compared to others my age. What is the point of all this, you ask?

My dad was fairly indiscriminate about using corporal punishment. It was random, sudden, violent, and terrifying. Generally he was extreme. After one incident, whereby I was bent forward in front of the jam of a door frame, I was struck so hard from behind that I fell forward and hit the back of my head against the edge of the frame. I was a tad disoriented, but instead of crying I got up and looked my dad in the face and said, “I will never be fat, and I will never have a mustache.” I walked away, his face stunned, feeling very powerful for standing up to him.

That act of defiance made me feel better able to deal with bullies throughout the rest of my life. Unfortunately, it also planted a seed that eventually sprouted into full-blown anorexia. It didn’t help that being a trained dancer comes with its additional weight-focused baggage, or that I had to look at myself in mirrors constantly for almost a decade. At any rate, whether I like it about myself or not, I have become, for lack of a better word, addicted to pursuing the almost unattainable standards of conventional beauty: Aspiring to it for myself, chasing after it in others, bowing before it despite the destructive personalities often attached to it…

So then, here it is: Most, if not nearly all, of my relationships have been with “hot” guys who are horrible both to me and for me. I was conversing with a friend last night. (No, I’m not abusing the term - he is a friend.) In the context of the conversation I had to look at a very ugly part of myself: I am willing to overlook all sorts of red flags, simply to have access to physical beauty and be accepted by those who have it. This has caused me no end of grief, my last relationship going so horribly awry that I’ve been single for two years as I try to regain my financial and emotional stability.

What does this say about me? I do not like this part of myself at all. It feeds a destructive cycle, whereby I give myself and others too much or too little value simply because of appearance. Am I not mature enought in mind, generous enough in spirit, and kind enough in heart to recognize how horrible that must make other people (and myself) feel?

I’m finally beginning to achieve my fitness goals, and rather than being content or pleased I feel confused and shallow. On the one hand my friend said to me that he is saddened by this attribute in me, that I focus so much on someone’s looks that I ignore his personality (or lack thereof). He didn’t mean for this to happen, but that only added to my embarrassment and revulsion at my own superficiality. On the other hand, an online acquaintance who is also an adult entertainer told me, “Let your fitness goals assist your spirit. Treat the looks as a happy side effect of nourishing the god in you.” I have to learn this, it’s not something I know how to do.

Stature has been so important to me. I had none and was the focus of life-threatening bullying. The people who had it seemed omnipotent. They were “beautiful,” god-like. I wanted that trength - it made the world safer, and made the bullies attractive, despite their meanness. My size made me invisible to the gay men who were “beautiful.” I was targeted by straights but invisible to gays. Not a good feeling.

Now I’m neither bullied nor invisible, but I feel no better. To be respected and desired because of the heavy objects I lift, rather than for the thoughts I think or smiles I share, has become a very empty reward. All that work and effort to achieve what exactly?

I put on a thong the first time just to see if I was as repulsive as I thought. In retrospect that was a catch-22: Failure would simply reinforce a negative self-imge, success would feed a destructive self-value system.

How many times have I hurt myself or others, consciously or unconsciously, because of this? How much of a hypocrite am I that I say I don’t like people being judged for how they look when that is exactly what has helped form my entire identity and is the means by which I make money? I do not regret or despise what I do for a living, because I love performing and I know that I do bring people who appreciate me some form of happiness; however, I have to also begin to understand how I can form a healthier relationship with appearances.

Everyone is precious (including me, dammit!). Everyone is a treasure to somebody. The time has come to collect more diamonds (which are beautifully faceted on the outside, but also luminous and brilliantly scintillating on the inside), rather than so many coins (which may or may not be shiny, but are flat and two-faced - one side of which is always hidden). Or does that analogy in and of itself still anchor me too much to surfaces?

Okay, as you can (hopefully) tell from the tones of the entries I’ve been posting, one of the most important themes of this blog is that adult entertainers are in fact human beings. With that carefully crafted hypothesis in place, it is important to recognize (whether you’re a patron, manager, or entertainer) that people are whole beings. There can be no separation between the body/mind/heart/soul. They are all one.

Having a sense of spirituality (not necessarily prescribing to the doctrines of any particular organized religion) is an invaluable anchor. It helps you define your values, and it is a reference point by which you judge for yourself whether or not you are living up to your own standards, whatever they might be. I struggle at times with reacting to the judgement of others: I know myself pretty well, and my feelings get hurt when assumptions are lobbed at me (generally by people who are in no position to cast stones).

With all that said, adult entertainers are people. We have families and friends. We have pets and lovers. We may be on a different path than you, or at a different point along the same path, but we were born with all the same intrinsic value as anyone else. We often bear the brunt of other people’s puritanical sex hangups, but those same people are often our best clients. I personally have given lap dances to state senators, lawyers, doctors, teachers, preachers (one of whom leads of congregation of over 10,000 people in Florida), and married men. Go figure.

At any rate, since adult entertainers are body/mind/heart/souls too, we need all the same types of sustinance as anyone else. There will be times when you are saturated with your work. You will need to take breaks, no matter what career you are in. Take them. Get away. Go somewhere or do something that is cleansing for yourself.

As I mentioned in another blog, I go drive the Blue Ridge Parkway from Boone, NC to Asheville, NC at least once each season each year. That’s four trips each year. I drive with the top down on my car, and I soak up all the beauty and wonder of the Mother in Her naked glory as she evolves through the seasons. I cannot function without these occasional trips.

Find a connection to the universe. Let Life strengthen you. Aligning yourself to a belief system that empowers you is a very important part of being human. Contrary to what jealous haters and right wingnuts may think, adult entertainers who hold onto themselves and thrive (rather than simply live) are just as healthy and happy as any banker or secretary (perhaps more so in many instances).

I wish you Peace. Namaste. Ashé ashé.

Bisexual people have to be some of the most marginalized in our culture. They’re too queer for heterosexuals to understand or empathize with, and they’re too straight for queers to trust or fully embrace. The former tend to lump any degree of bisexuality together with “gay,” and the latter tend to stigmatize them as cowards or indiscriminate sluts. However, bisexuality is a true sexuality - it is not just some dude’s way of getting head whenever it’s convenient while his gay friend is playing video games with him at midnight.

I’ve dated a couple of bisexual guys. Yes, it’s frustrating to know you’re not able to be everything that completes that person’s desires, and yes there are often complications if the relationship is founded upon an antiquated form of monogamy. However, bisexual people should not be treated as if monogamy is impossible for them. That’s absurd. Anyone makes the choice to cheat or not. Another option, if everyone agrees, is that a triangular dynamic might be better.

I have to confess that bisexual men are alluring to me. That’s not to say I feed into the straight boy fetish - that’s not true at all. As with Homer Simpson, I like my gay men fuh-lay-ming! What attracts me to bisexual men is their ability to appreciate the sexual beauty of so many more people than I am capable of. I know a beautiful or sexy woman when I see one, but that’s all there is: recognition. There’s no desire. Unless, of course, the desire to take her shopping and dress her in expensive haute couture counts…

Perhaps this will seem strange to say, but I accidentally discovered that I have a porn hero. I’m not sure yet what that means, but it’s the only way I can think to describe my response to Cody Cummings (see right, click to enlarge). Not only is he incredibly dedicated and disciplined in regard to his fitness regimen, but he appears to be totally at ease with being attractive to and attracted to both men and women. He has a particular presence that is fascinating, beyond the strictly sexual. Yes, he is beautiul. Yes, he has found a way to capitalize successfully on his appearance. But beyond that, when I looked at the snippets of his videos, what I came up with in my head is that this man is absolutely comfortable in his skin. That is incredibly attractive, beyond all the other glamour tied into his marketing strategy.

So, I guess the point of this entry isn’t that I wish I were bisexual (even though I maybe do), but that I remembered after seeing Cody Cummings’ site that one of my fantasies for a long time has been to have a healthy balanced relationship wherein my best girlfriend and I share a man who loves us both equally. Something about a triad is more stable in my mind. Alas, the dream is probably always easier/better than the reality.

At any rate, it’s not often an adult entertainer tells the public about his/her own fantasies. Usually we’re the ones who play upon the desires of others. I thought it might be nice to put a little piece of my personal self out there: I think it’d be fun to be a gorgeous bisexual porn star. Let me dream, ok? Return the favor just this once?