Low Life
I don't remember where I was when 9/11 or the blackout occurred, but I do remember where I was the first time I saw someone I knew in a porno. The boss had left early from work, and I had a fearless instant reflex that could minimize several computer windows in case a straggling customer crept in during the final hour. I always thought my first time recognizing a porn participant would range from hilarious to creepy but it was neither when I saw my first love taking it in every position from someone Icalled The Overachiever-more on him in a moment.
In any event, I was hardly coherent enough to run a small business. So I closed up early forgetting to set the alarm, and shut off the computers and lights.
Watching Internet porn at work felt sleazy until the advent of irresistible alt-porn. I wasn't into that whack-ass Suicide Girls site; any numbnut can see through their fake community of like-minded alternative chicks "expressing themselves." My site of choice was their competitor, one that showcases space pirates. Fact- obsessively stylish and trendy women are fucking annoying, but they're still hot (especially when compared to the goth trash at SG), and I couldn't shake the fetish. To fulfill my hipster fantasies without that side serving of bullshit, I shelled out $10 a month for a web membership. That's the price of one drink in a trendy bars, and it takes a hell of a lot more than that to get any action.
Despite the Web site's abundance of shitty topless pictures of art-school dropouts in front of Brooklyn graffiti taken by their loser boyfriends, I always looked forward to the good old fashioned, anti-feminist hardcore videos that were updated frequently. With my hands on the Alt + F4 keys, I saw those unmistakable eyes-staring at me, taking up the full frame. Next the video zoomed out showing a huge cock crammed down her throat.
This wasn't a drunken hookup; it was a video with rewind, slow motion, and zoom features.
I always knew that the sheer volume of porn I watched made it inevitable I would see someone I knew as a participant. But this isn't one of those countless stories where there are a few degrees of separations between you and them, like the girl across the hall and down a few rooms in your buddy's apartment building who flashed her tits at Mardi Gras (or worse yet spring break) and ended up on a Girls Gone Wild late-night infomercial with stars over her nipples. And it's certainly a lot rougher, then say, seeing that cute but naive girl from high school who always had the closest locker to you (due to phonetically similar last names) with a two-page photo spread in Swank of her fucking her pussy with a glass dildo. During my first porn participant recognition, it took 10 minutes to realize that I was watching not one but two people I knew. Seeing the first girl I was ever in love withwas one thing, but seeing The Overachieverfuck her was too much.
The Overachiever wasthat one "friend" who was always better than you at everything but still kept you around to make themselves look even better by helping out the less fortunate. During these friendships, the lesser member can't dissolve the relationship because it will make them look jealous and besides, it only makes sense to have some association with greatness when you're doomed to a life that will include watching Internet porn at work as a highlight. Once at home I dwelled on how The Overachiever had beaten me yet again. I was used to him one-upping me, but this time he really lived up to his nickname by banging my ex. I wanted to kick his ass, but he had always fucked me up when I'd tried in the past, and I couldn't reach him through the computer anyway. Then I remembered that I had forgotten to properly shut down the store and rushed back to the F stop and headed downtown. I began to realize that getting myself frustrated over something I couldn't control wasn't going to help, and I tried applauding myself for having enough insight to realize I had to go back to the store and close up the right way. As my key was about to unlock the front door, I noticed my boss was already there. I debated whether I should leave and avoid the confrontation or try to explain that I wasn't as irresponsible as it looked, when I noticed he was at my computer with one hand stroking. n