L.A. & the Porn Star

The years of dancing at SeaWorld San Diego took its toll on my body. We often had as many as eight shows a day, rain or shine. And with my flat feet, I ended up developing shin splints and plantar fasciitis. It was painful, but I wasn’t completely broken. I just medicated myself more when I went to dance auditions. But I wanted to do more than just dance, I also wanted to be on television too. So I decided to depart the familiar and safe surroundings of San Diego and made my theatrical pilgrimage to the north, to Tinsel Town aka Hollywood.

I had been to Los Angeles many times before, but only for short visits to see friends and the occasional show. I landed a job as a doorman at the prestigious J.W. Marriott in Century City. Working here was great. Several of the staff also had aspirations in film and television and because of that, we often covered shifts for each other when someone had an audition. This was a flagship hotel as my boss, Jeff, called it. It was the frequent meeting spot for many well known celebrities. The property butted up against the backlot of the historic 20th Century Fox studios and next to the Fox Tower used in the first Die Hard movie. The best part for me was the close proximity to my Holloway House apartment in West Hollywood, aka WeHo. I wouldn’t have to spend hours commuting to and from work. It was also hottie heaven here. 

I did have a few breaks which gave me more than “15 minutes of fame” as quoted by Andy Warhol. I appeared as a background dancer on a show called “Out all Night” starring Patty Labelle and hung out with R&B trio T.L.C. Though my biggest claim to fame was on a show I’m sure everyone knows or at least has heard of, “America’s Most Wanted.” That’s right. Your sweet, morally innocent, and fun-loving blogger here appeared on that show. I portrayed an escaped convict and drug addict/dealer (Preston Jones). I actually consider myself lucky that I wasn’t cast as the child killer (Leon Morris) my character was paired up with in this criminal reenactment. So before anyone labels me as a sellout, keep in mind these were the 90s and there wasn’t the racial awareness as there is today. I am very aware these types of roles sadly reinforce negative stereotypes. That said, I was sure as Hell happy to land a national gig, drug-dealer or not, to get my foot in the Screen Actors Guild door. Truthfully, even though aware now of the social stigma of playing such a character, I still probably would have taken the job. Besides, If it wasn’t me, then it would have been someone else and I wouldn’t be able to share this unique story. 

Anyway, one night I went out to a bar and noticed this handsome dark-haired, olive-skinned Adonis looking in my direction. I didn’t think a guy who looked like this could ever be interested in me. So out of habit, I turned my head the other way to see who this stud was cruising. My heart began to race and my loins throbbed when I realized this hot piece of beef cake was actually checking ME out. He came over and introduced himself to me. His name was Travis. Suddenly things around us became a blur. It was a carousel moment. You know when things seem to spin around except for that one focal point of bliss. All I remember was seeing this angelic face, with a devilish smile.

Well after a couple of drinks and the standard social niceties, we decided to go back to my place to discuss the mating habits of the Argentine Lake duck. Okay, since really neither of us knew anything about the Argentine Lake duck, we decided to act out our own mating habits and believe me, there was nothing fowl (intentional spelling) about this man. When I awoke the next morning I was expecting that dreamboat to have sailed away into the night never to be seen again. To my surprise, Travis was still there laying next to me. As we began to untangle our physically spent limbs, he reached over and planted me with a post-sex-morning-after-kiss. At that moment in time, all was right in the world. I was so excited I called my mother and told her that I thought I finally met the man of my dreams.  

We became practically inseparable. When we weren’t together, Travis traveled back to Torrance for his job as a personal trainer, which explained that fine ass frame of his. I hated having him leave. When he was around, there was always something exciting going on. Riding the roller coasters at Magic Mountain, rollerblading in Venice Beach, or walking hand in hand along the moonlit shores of Malibu, it was magical. Travis truly touched me, and in more ways than just physically.

Two months into the relationship, Travis told me he got a job at the local gym down the street from my apartment called the Athletic Club. This was perfect since he was practically living at my place when he was in town. So one afternoon, I decided to surprise Travis at work and take him out for lunch to celebrate. Little did I realize, the surprise would be mine. The attendants at the gym said they had never heard of him. Hmm, I thought maybe I misheard the information even though there was only one Athletic Club gym in the area.  

I shrugged it off and didn’t worry too much because I knew that Travis would be coming by my place later for dinner, plus I was serving his favorite dessert, CHOCOLATE, but he never showed up. I even tried calling the phone number he gave me but that too no longer worked. Now, I was getting concerned. That same night, I had a visit from my neighbor Bob who lived down the hall from me. He said that he saw my new beau on the cover of a skin magazine and he was also the centerfold. I didn’t really know what to say, I was speechless. My heart sank and I felt like I was punched in the gut. 

The following day Travis finally showed up and I asked him what was going on. He apologized for not coming over for dinner saying that something came up. When I asked about the job at the Athletic Club, he flashed that smile and said, he didn’t take the job because it wasn’t a good fit. I respected that and all was forgiven. As for the magazine photos, he never elaborated on how long ago they were taken. The more we talked, the more I was actually warming up to the idea of having a centerfold as a boyfriend. I wasn’t crazy about it, I kept telling myself all he was doing was posing for photos…NUDE. I expressed my concerns about his involvement in porn films and he said he would never do that to me. I later discovered after we broke up that this too was a lie. I think the film was called Space Aliens from Uranus? 

The following day, while being smothered with kisses, Travis asked to borrow some money so he could put a deposit down on an apartment. Anyone with a clear head would have immediately seen the warning signs, but I foolishly gave him the money anyway. I looked at it as an investment into my/our future happiness. I was happy; at least that’s what I kept telling myself and my mother. The one time my mother met Travis she told me this guy will break your heart. I found her observation to be pretty harsh. Now, my mother has had her share of relationships to draw from and I normally valued and respected her opinion, but this time I wasn’t so sure. Here’s a little (her)story about my mother. She’s been married twice to men, and has had five civil unions to a few women. I jokingly call her a modern day Elesbian Taylor. She and her wife are happy and that’s all that matters. My mother was right, Travis did indeed break my heart. In my mind I kept making up excuses for his behavior. I was “dick-stracted” from the obvious and let that body-ody-ody (thank you #theestallion) of his cloud my judgment and he knew it. I got played. After months of mysterious absences and excuses, I was fed up and decided to end the relationship. I finally wised-up to Travis’ deception and lies. It was time to let go of this dream; this happily-ever-after fairy-tale. My naivety and innocence made for an abundance of growth in this time in my life. Frustrated and feeling mentally fatigued from it all, I decided to take a trip to Amsterdam. Little did I realize the adventures that awaited me there, but that’s a story for another day!