It’s not very often I have time to lounge around the house. Recently, however, my wife was out of town and I was privileged to enjoy an entire weekend to myself. I slept in late, ate ice cream for breakfast, and chugged down every can of beer I could find.
After soothing myself with a trio of John Hughes movies on Saturday afternoon, I found myself watching a fascinating Netflix documentary: Hot Girls Wanted. The film focused on the thriving amateur porn industry and featured young women that have the girl next door appeal.I was mesmerized. After all, I am the epitome of a typical red-blooded, fire-eating, testosterone-fueled, bullet-proof American male. I had no choice but to watch it.
The film revealed that most girls in the industry willingly answered help wanted ads for webcam modeling. Unexpectedly, the film did not show strung-out drug addicts or illegal aliens forced into sex slavery. Instead, the so-called models seemed to come from normal backgrounds and wanted to be porn stars for fast money.They were bored – with no thought about tomorrow.
Appalled yet curious, I immediately browsed my local Craigslist page in search of webcam modeling ads. To my surprise, there were dozens of ads – all promising quick cash. I needed another beer.
One ad instantly caught my eye. It clearly stated that all genders, ages, and body styles were welcome to apply. With my unbridled bravery in full-effect, I filled out the online application. The process required me to snap and upload a selfie while holding my ID.
Oh lord, I thought, I’m over 50! This is a riot!
Meanwhile, I downed another brewskie.
For my own amusement, I decided to snap another selfie. Lying shirtless in bed, I easily brought sexy back with my masculine physique and erotic smile. Full of liquid courage, I uploaded the racy photo and attached it to my application.
It wasn’t until after I clicked submit that I realized I was sprawled about on my wife’s favorite cat-themed pillow.
The next day, while enjoying a fresh draft, I received the long-awaited email announcing the status of my application:
You’re Hired! Welcome to the World of Live-Cam Modeling!
You can now login here to stream and start making money today.
We have seen overweight, not-so-great-looking (sorry, just being honest!) ladies that are in their 50s be successful.
We have seen 35-year-old Hispanics be successful.
We have seen 40-year-old couples be successful.
We have seen every single body type, age, gender, race – you name it – make it and be successful.
Clearly, they were serious. I was hired. And to my delight, they guaranteed my success!
I received an official welcome packet with an easy-to-understand technical guide with step-by-step instructions on how to configure my computer, Internet speed, and webcam. I received a detailed checklist outlining the do’s and don’ts of webcam modeling. I received countless emails with top-notch advice, encouraging my success.
Smile and be positive!
Stop making excuses. You can do this!
As I pondered the prospect, I hurried over to 7-11 to buy another case of barley pop. I was going to need it. Yeah, I thought, I can do this! I cracked open another cold one. Later that evening, I called my wife. I couldn’t wait to tell her all about my new career move.
“Baby! I was hired as a live webcam model! Yeah, seriously! They think I’m hot! I’m destined to make big money!”
While explaining the expectations of my new role, my wife rudely interrupted.
“Dave, how much beer have you chugged?”
I ignored her interrogation.
“Do you understand that they expect you to perform live amateur porn? Do you realize that no woman in their right mind would pay to see you naked? You’d have to pay them, silly!”
In an instant, my new-found confidence was shattered. But she persisted.
“If you’re truly serious, the only way you could make any real money is if you cater to gay men. And I don’t think that’s quite your style.”
Yet, I seriously pondered the notion. Gay webcam porn. Hmmmm. I was consumed with the thought of easily earning an endless supply of bucks – plus tips. I knew that gay men have exquisite taste – and I was convinced that I’d fit the bill perfectly.
“You’ll have to show your face, Dave. And believe me, someone we know will see you. Besides, we would have to go visit the adult book store to buy the proper X-rated attire and stock up on an assortment of sex toys.”
While she continued to interrupt my pondering, I cracked open the last gutterade.
“Fine,” I said abruptly. “We’ll talk about this when you get home.”
The next morning, my two-day boredom-be-gone buzz finally wore off. Besides, it was Monday and all the beer was gone. Eventually, I came to my senses.
I admit I was relieved that I never started my first day on the job as a Live-Cam Model. More likely than not, I probably would have regretted that I streamed my birthday suite online. Instead of becoming a live-cam superstar, I could have easily become the live-cam laughing stock of amateur porn.
If I ever find myself unsupervised again, I refuse to mix Netflix documentaries with alcohol.
Believe me, the effects can be toxic.
Photo: © Dave Pacailler All Rights Reserved