Today, porn star Adam Ramzi becomes the newest columnist on The Sword.
Adam will regularly be contributing to the site with stories from his own experience. As Adam says, “When I first began attending my L.A.-based grad school program in clinical psychology, with a specialization in LGBT-affirmative psychotherapy, I knew I wanted to explore gay sex and the dynamics among sexually active gay men. Now I live in San Francisco, intern as a marriage and family therapist, and occasionally do porn and go-go dancing on the side. I’ve experienced many new things, and I’ve learned that I’m far from perfect. But my place as a social animal, a horndog, an exhibitionist, and a thinker (when I’m not distracted, in a city full of distractions) has given me a lot to share. Hopefully this column will give readers a unique glimpse into my world.”
I filmed my twelfth scene in this lovely industry, my last one in the Raging Stallion studio in San Francisco, in April of 2014, only a month after moving here. Raging/Falcon production moved soon after that to Las Vegas a practical yet controversial decision that put my porn parents in a suburban landscape full of identical housing, ample space, and amenities, surrounded by trees, shops, necessities, but far away from Bay Area. For half of what they pay now in rent, they will get twice the space, new equipment and appliances, and a far more comfortable existence.
Hearing Bruno Bond talk about it was scary and comforting at the same time. My initial reaction is to think a few negative things: Vegas sucks; suburban Vegas is probably worse; city life is king; etc. And yet, he and husband Steve Cruz seem very happy with each other, and life sounds pretty exciting they are stars formerly in front of the camera who are now directors, and they get to fly all the hot boys they want to their enormous new studio.
Still, after a year of being flown to S.F. to have a day of shooting with these folks, they were leaving with smiles on their faces but I had just gotten here, and was still struggling to find my own community.
But I digress. My latest scene was with a friend whom I’ve known for almost four years, and this added a new element to the experience of making porn in that the comfort level was of a very certain type. We’ve had sex before, we like each other, and the rapport and chemistry could be reignited very simply. Aside from the occasional boner problems, it was a pretty smooth shoot.
That night, however, I was hired to go-go dance at the Powerhouse for a weekly party thrown by Grace Towers, San Francisco’s most popular bearded lady du jour (if you haven’t heard of her by now, shame on you). The party is called Bulge a sex positive underwear party, where there is inevitably a contest for the best bulge/underwear combo.
Now, granted, a few things were against me that night. I would eventually come to love dancing at this night, and any night at the Powerhouse thereafter for that matter. But shooting porn, no matter how smooth, is a physically grueling and exhausting endeavor, every time, and I really didn’t have much time to rest before the gig.This night felt, almost entirely, like a fight to stay alive, and I got in my head in a way that disappointed even me. The tips were mediocre, the place was only about half full, and the attention was distant rather than engaging. I thought a lot to myself about the commitment I’d made by entering this city quite in this way. What had I gotten myself mixed up in? I was new to a city, meeting people I’d never met before, and shaking my 32-year-old ass on a go-go box in a leather jockstrap and a backwards baseball cap and bike gloves. You know, for grabbing poles and such. What could this get me in this city, really?
Adam Ramzi: porn actor and go-go boy, soon to be barback at a Castro bar. The psych internship I’d moved here for almost seemed to be just a side thing. But, truly, my life was becoming all full of “side things.” I began to think, while moving my hips under that red spotlight, that this was a recipe for loneliness, and it started to make me sad.
I began thinking about a recent dramatic exchange with an ex that may have meant the end of our life together, and it made me realize something. I missed my ex for several reasons, but never considered that one of them would be because I missed feeling new to someone whose opinion of me was not tinted by knowing what my dick, ass, or o-face look like. I remember meeting porn stars when I was younger, and now I know what their faces meant when they hesitantly told me it was nice to meet me. They knew I was interested mostly because I knew what their SEX looked like and I liked it, and I had very little interest (probably) in who they actually were.
Then something happened. My favorite moment of the night came when a sweet, older man came up to me while I was dancing and told me he had a sneaker fetish and was intrigued, because he’d never seen my Praxis shoes before. I told him the story of how I’d never heard of them, but found them at a huge thrift institution in Los Angeles, called St Vincent de Paul.
“May I?” he asked.
Not sure what he meant at first, I reminded myself, yet again, that things are different in this town. “By all means,” I said. He knelt down, lifted my foot, and started licking the shoe, and putting the soles all over his face and forehead. Happy as can be. He tipped $10, and it was the best tip of the night.
“See, now you can say you’ve had Praxis sneakers on your face!” I said to him with a smile. He backed away with his hands on his heart, as if to say “Thank you,” and his smile couldn’t be sweeter or more genuine.
I noticed as he disappeared into the crowd that I was feeling the music a little more. I was dancing harder. I was smiling. This town is constantly full of surprises, and it was still so NEW. I was still so new. And once I remembered that it’s okay to start over, however different people’s perception may be of me here, the stress and the blues slowly melted away. The tips got better.
And I’m still here in SF, with no real plan as to how long I will stay. I’m keeping it this way a while, I think.