My name is Logan Pierce. I am not nearly as simple as I may seem.
You see, I am a good-natured and quiet boy from a small suburban town located on the outskirts of Philadelphia. I come from a healthy family. I was raised Catholic and followed each necessary step to reach religious salvation.
I graduated from high school on time and immediately enrolled at a respected university.
My brother married when he was my age, so, naturally, I should be considering the possibility of marriage, right?
Part of me believes I should be settling down and planning to start a family right now, but I'm not.
Instead, I denounced religion shortly after receiving my confirmation, dropped out of college after my third year, and moved away to Los Angeles to pursue my sexually deviant aspirations.
Yes, I am a Male Performer, otherwise known as a cocksmith, a swordsman, a meat puppet, a male talent, or a working stiff.
I broke into the industry during the winter of 2012, only two days after arriving in Los Angeles.
Ever since, my life has crest into one hell of a wave.
I had a girlfriend when I first started f*cking professionally. She was a civilian; that is, she was not associated with the industry in any way, shape, or form. We had been dating for two years before I made the move out West.
She was well aware of my character, Logan Pierce. It was our dirty little secret, and for a while, we both seemed content with things as they were.
Her and I were in love, and that is the most honest thing I could ever say. Nothing in my life will ever matter as much as she did to me while we were together. She will forever remain to me as the one who got away.
I believe I lost a piece of myself when I left her in Pennsylvania.
I flew her out to Los Angeles for spring break in 2012. This was when I was still living at the Oakwoods. I was a child then; I was under the safety net of being a student. I didn't know what it meant to be an adult, or to be independent, or to be on the run.
I almost had her half-convinced to move to California and attempt a stable relationship with me. It makes me kind of sick to look back and see myself proposing such a pathetic notion.
I was asking her to sever ties with her family and move 2500 miles across the country to join me in sunny California and live in some overpriced, underwhelming, cookie-cutter apartment in the valley, while I f*cked strangers on camera for money.
When we had sex for the first time during her trip, I broke down crying. I had a nervous breakdown right in front of her. I felt like I was on set, as if the acts we were doing were no longer sacred. I was going through the motions, but I felt nothing.
I thought of being under the bright lights and being on display, and I just panicked. It was in that moment I realized how big of a mistake it would be if I stole this poor girl away from her family and destroyed her life by turning her into me.
Shortly after she returned home, we broke up. It was a mutual understanding.
We moved on, as people tend to do. She started seeing someone else back at home and I continued living in Los Angeles, feeding the machine.
It was now sometime in early April 2012. I think I was driving home from set when I received the phone call. You know the one. It's the second-most dreaded phone call a performer can receive: the call from Mom and Dad after they've discovered your Internet alter-ego.
I picked up the phone and my mother said, “We know who you are.” Then, she very calmly asked me in a matter-of-fact tone of voice if I had been “participating in dirty movies.” I answered her honestly.
I knew this day was inevitable, and although I had been hiding my career from my parents, more or less, I promised myself if and when they finally confronted me (or, if, by some miracle, I developed the balls to confront them), I would be completely transparent.
Naturally, parents tend to be a bit... disappointed when they learn their child is an emerging stud. It's probably the last job any set of parents would want for their child, but I think mine at least appreciated my honesty and understood my decisions were not made out of malice or any bottled-up resentment.
My parents have always been supportive of me.
They never pushed me to pursue any activity or join any clubs because somebody else had. They didn't have an agenda for me; they just wanted me to feel things out for myself.
When I was 12 and wanted to play drums, they bought me my first drum set and let me play in my bedroom – then later relegated me to the garage.
When I was 14 and wanted to be an actor, they encouraged me to join the drama group, which is where I spent the entirety of high school.
When I was 16 and wanted to be a filmmaker, they let my friends and I run amok throughout their house and shoot action sequences in the basement, or tense dramas at the kitchen table. They always understood I only did the things that brought me joy in life.
Since the initial phone call, we've spoken about my life in front of the camera on multiple occasions and basically come to an understanding that as long as I am content and independent, they will, accept -- err, entertain -- the notion.
I like to believe they are proud of me, so long as I am proud of myself. I find comfort in that.
So, my parents found out and that was that.
Now, my own question arose: How did my parents find out? They aren't the most tech-savvy, nor are they frequenting many explicit sites (as far as I know), so how in the world did my sweet and humble mother discover little ole' Logan Pierce?
It seemed my now-ex-girlfriend's parents, who knew Logan before he became Logan, believed it to be their responsibility to inform my parents of my sins. They printed out pictures of my box-covers and my modeling headshots and formed some sort of half-ass dossier.
Then they barged into my parent's home and tossed the documents on the dining room table, sending naked photos flying everywhere. They pleaded with my parents, "Save your son."
My mom was incredulous, yet civil. She took the "evidence" with a grain of salt, and then politely escorted my ex-girlfriend's parents out the door. She then called the source to discover the truth.
I can't say I harbor any bad feelings toward my ex-girlfriend's parents. It took me a little while, but I finally realized they weren't intent on ruining my fun; they were terrified for the safety of their daughter. For them, it was fight or flight.
But, like I said, I am not mad at my ex-girlfriend's parents. I mean, sure, when I first heard what happened, I may have said some unsavory things on their behalf, but the fact is, the truth needed to come out one way or another.
I'll admit, I was afraid to tell my parents because, occasionally, I do feel as if I have abandoned them in some way. I don't think I would've admitted my truth to them anytime soon if it weren't for this catalyst.
Regardless of how unorthodox the approach may have been; I am glad my parents were finally informed.
Someone had to do it, and in retrospect, I am happy it was my ex's parents.
So, for what it's worth, thank you.
