Mary and I the dehumanization and brutality of the pornography industry part #10

Mary would play games with my emotions. I had no idea at the time this is her way of controlling and manipulating others or the relationship. I learned much later that behaviour is learned and repeated. She has been abused, controlled and manipulated so Mary abuses, controls and manipulates others.

Mary had not called me in a week. She had become furious at me over a saying, “You don’t know everything.”as we discussed the pineal gland, Chakras, and telekinesis. She also said, “I have important church VIP coming into town. I have to show them around.” I suspected prostitution but I wanted to believe in her so much. I know she really wanted to quit prostitution and pornography. Cursing and screaming epithets, I knew these were really directed at herself as much as me. I drove through the desert, home alone. Again.

I was beside myself with worry at the same time angry for allowing myself to be treated so badly.

The bright January California sunshine, cheerful in all it’s celebrated fame beats down on L.A, on Hollywood, on me, the sweat, beading on my brow. Marching up Cahuenga Ave, I take Hollywood in stride, after all I’ve spent much of my life on these streets, clubs, homes, apartments and alleys. Yet a sadness  I never felt prior to knowing Mary, settles in my heart. I begin to sob as a tour bus full of pasty mid-west gawkers, Gucci outfitted Chinese nuevo riche, and tight -jean Euros rounds the corner of Hollywood Blvd. The Hollywood Hills home’s windows stare back at me, reflecting the horror stories Mary so painstakingly confided in me. The sadness blankets me, it is suffocating. I have to talk myself out of living her pain thinking, “I have my own past in Hollywood, in L.A. Why does her past life affect me so? I had nothing to do with her decisions. I’ve lost friends and seen almost the same thing happen to others as a teen.”
Blowing my nose in my sleeve just like a snot nosed kid, I compose myself, trudging the remaining 100 yards or so to my destination, a small chic boutique. Not having seen her for a decade I walk clean past her, oblivious. Crysta, left foot in front of the right, crossed at the ankles, standing in the doorway, grabbing my shoulder says, “You’re a mess.” Yeah, well you don’t look so hot either.” I reply.  “I heard you are dating Mary that porn star.” She says with raised eybrows. I look at her. “Ohhhh You love her.” Crysta says matter of factly. I have not seen Crysta in 10 years but she knew immediately. Just one damn glance. “Yeah.” I say looking her in the eye, holding her gaze and quickly looking away, at the damn Hollywood Hills. Crysta and I go way back. 22 years exactly. We have a secrete, I can’t tell you neither can Crysta. Pornography, strip clubs, prostitution, and the assorted evils that accompany this miserable slice of life’s pie has been much more a part of me than I care to admit. Until http://gerilewis.wordpress.com/2012/02/08/mary-and-i-the-dehumanization-and-brutality-of-the-pornography-industry-part-9/

Mary and I the dehumanization and brutality of the pornography industry part #9

Mary, (not her alter ego the infamous pornography entertainer) would approve of this blog, I’m certain. To expose the brutality and inhumane treatment she is suffering, to deter others from this horrible fate,  to scream until she could scream no more….. to release the unimaginable horror she has endured. Yet she can’t, so I will.

You see, Mary would often send me anti-rape and abuse links to websites and videos. Often her Facebook and twitter posts would contain sexual/domestic abuse and anti-rape content.  At first I was puzzled and could not understand the message. Yet as we began dating, as we became so very intimate, Mary revealed the rapes, beatings, kidnappings, and being drugged. Her loneliness, sadness and pain grabbed me by the heart. I lived it too. As a youth I was beaten severely by my mother, living in a feminist, lesbian household  My father left my mother as soon as I was old enough to walk. She hated men. Mother saw my father when she looked my way and any excuse for a beating became no excuse at all. The telephone cords hurt the most.

I was a runaway on the streets of  L.A.

Hollywood

Living  with Punk Rockers, misfits and other social outcasts, squatting in abandoned homes, apartments and various makeshift dwellings, I was accosted/propositioned often.  The thoughts ran through my teenage mind, other kids I knew did it… I never  arrived at that final destination.

I began to understand, her muted cry for help, justice and liberty. The dichotomy, this internal dialog within herself, destroying her mind and soul, as she struggles with the wrenching reality of living life as a mere object, more  akin to a trick pony than a woman. Tormented beyond sanity, abusing herself, being abused, abusing others and unable to find internal happiness, Mary replaced dignity and self-esteem with mere material items. She herself having no more self-worth than the very things she was ultimately unable to even afford.

to be continued…http://gerilewis.wordpress.com/2012/02/25/mary-and-i-the-dehumanization-and-brutality-of-the-pornography-industry-part-10/

The continuing story of Mary and I, the dehumanization and brutality of the pornography industry part #8

Mary calling promptly after 10:00pm, the hour she signed off from her internet pornographic shows, exclaimed how she detested the internet customers. remarking matter of factly, “I had to stop and run out to 7-11 to buy batteries for my vibrators.”  We would talk for hours and hours Often the sun would be rising when we would say good-byes. The topics always so diverse, ranging from aliens to God to food to our children. Mary enjoyed my army stories and she really revelled in the hazing stories.  Saying, “Tell the story when they beat you with bars of soap in socks. Oh oh, tell me the story when they tied you up, locked you in the locker and threw it down a flight of stairs.” Mary would laugh with an over exuberant glee. I did not understand why until much much later in our relationship exactly why she enjoyed these stories so much.What I did know, during  our first in-depth conversation, our relationship was a supernatural event.  Divine spiritual manifestation.We discussed Jesus Christ.  How else could this be explained? The art piece with her images, the fact I knew she was not who she portrayed herself to be. That her public image was a fraud. That she so readily confided in me.  Ccoincidence? not a chance

I can’t say I had never meet her, (as I had that brief encounter  15 years ago) but I certainly did not know her. Not at all.  Yet I knew I loved her from our first conversation. She is so sad, so alone, so hurt. .

Just as I am.

Saying, “I love you.” I was risking alienating her. I knew she had heard this from fans, perverts, abusers, manipulators and God knows who else. But I had to say this. It bubbled out of my mouth, like spring water. Clear, honest and true. Filtered through the  granite bedrock-wreckage of my life  . I didn’t want anything from her but to heal her, to bring her joy ,peace and love. The things I pined for also. The very ingredients missing from my soul. I could empathize with her agony, humiliation, shame, and loneliness. The loneliness. The unbearable void in the very center of the human heart.  Mary’s voice was faint, a virtual whisper and I could hear her shallow breathing. I knew she had been drinking and she had ingested Valium. I was panicked. ”I…love…you…too,” she finally said beginning to cry. I in turn began to sob uncontrollably. Glancing at my wrist watch I noticed it was 6:30am.