Dirty Little Secret

I got caught when the DirecTV bill came. Usually the bill goes directly to the accountant. And I could spend lots of useless time here pondering why it didn't go to the accountant last month, but I'd just be procrastinating, not wanting to really share with you what I got busted for. Suffice it to say, here's how the conversation went down with Lori, my live-in Lady Love.

"Two hundred and twenty-two dollars?"

"How's that, honey?" I asked.

"Our DirecTV bill this month."

"That's awful high," I said, as skillfully as a bad actress.

"And since you've been working so much lately, writing in your office behind closed doors," Lori said, "I was even that much more surprised!"

I shrugged and turned around quickly, trying to hide my, no doubt, beet-red face.

"A hundred and seventy bucks of that bill, Carol, is from pay-per-view adult titles.

"Huh?"

What most people would call porn," Lori said.

"And most people would be right," I wanted to say but didn't.

Yes, the jig was up. Me likey porn. Me likey a lot. Hell, the Lady Friend knows that. We've been together for almost 13 years. But we were both under the impression that I was taking a a breather from that devil. Yes, I had been trying to get a leash on my smutty urges, but the porn always winds up biting through the leash and running off with joyful abandon.

And I know it doesn't fit the stereotype of most women, certainly not most gay women. Why, a gay woman would probably take the feminist viewpoint on porn-see it as degrading women, objectifying women. So why not this gay feminist?

Here's why:

1. Porn is convenient. Look, I love my partner, Lori. And we still have a good, healthy sex life. No lesbian bed death here! But I'm a writer who works from home. And a writer is nothing without her distractions, especially when spending endless hours in front of the Big Daddy Boss Man computer. Here's how it typically works. In my head I say, I promise! I'm definitely going to figure out the inciting incident of act 2 of this screenplay. But first, I have to Google the lyrics to a Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! song, so I can sing along to it correctly in the car with our 3-year-old son. Or, Yes! I desperately need to come up with a really good joke for the character, but first I wanna see that picture of Suri Cruise in the audience at the American Idol finals. But the problem is, the stirring in my pants trumps all the other distractions. No contest. And no further work can get done if Ms. Horny doesn't get her way. So porn stakes her claim as top of the food chain quite effortlessly.

2. Porn is unpredictable. I'm not particular. I like all types of porn: man-woman porn, woman-woman porn, man-man porn. It's all so dirty and debased to me. Who knows what my libido will be in the mood for at 10:34 on a Tuesday morning? Eat My Black Meat 4 , maybe? (A real title and franchise, BTW.) Or Wolver-in , starring a real up-and-comer named Huge Jackoff? Well, that's the beauty of it. I don't know, DirecTV porn! Surprise me!

3. Porn gives me a healthy dose of self-loathing afterward. What is a vice without it making you hate yourself for succumbing? And what feeling is more welcome than that when one needs to get back to work?

So I apologized to Lori. I had said I would give it a go -- saying bye-bye to the dirty no-no stuff-but I had been a bad girl. A very bad, bad girl. Especially in this economy! Pay-per-view is like the Mercedes-Benz of porn -- $10.99 for a movie or $4.99 a pop when you order six at the same time. Or so I've heard.

So tomorrow morning it's back to the old grindstone. (Note to self: Grindstone -- good porn title for a Flintstones-themed takeoff.) And I will be mindful of my recent indiscretion and our collective pocketbook when I enter my office and sit down to write. And when I'm stuck on page 4 and that yen rears its ugly head from the edges of my lacy thong, I will call a moving van to get the TV out of my office. (But not before Googling "Huge Jackoff" and seeing what other work he's done.)