I have one rule in life regarding sex and my job.
(Actually I have more than one, but they are minor rules, eg. limiting heavy sex sessions to the weekend to prevent exhaustion on set the next day; being more sexually graphic than my male colleagues so they know I won’t take any shit from them; and never getting caught wanking in the toilets).
The main rule I abide by though, is this: never fuck actors. Simple.
But why not fuck actors? Surely given the opportunity, one would jump at the chance to shag someone talented/famous/handsome, right? Not me: they are nothing but trouble.
Over the years whilst I’ve been on set, I have been approached by various actors trying to get in my knickers. From
I have absolutely no interest in shagging someone as superficial as an actor; regardless of how talented they might be on screen, they will undoubtedly also be shallow, narcissistic and full of self-loathing – not qualities I admire. I know this, not just because I have met so many actors over the years, but also because for a brief period I trained as one myself, so I can speak from (introspective) experience.
To get up on a stage or film set and be able to switch off the world, whilst also project realistic emotion and thought, requires skill and deftness in being artificial; an ability to convince others of sincerity is, after all, what makes an actor’s performance believable. But it is all superficial and every actor I have met carries this falsity in the interactions they have off-screen as well as on.
It’s not surprising they relate like this; aside from exposing themselves - quite literally - in their performances, they are also surrounded by unreal adoration from people who think they are special and different to the rest of us, making the actor lose touch with reality in the process. I am always mystified why people seem to find those that are famous, interesting: people lap up the magazines and newspapers that have cover stories about some celebrity and which latest lover/diet/tragedy is occupying their life. It just bores me.
It seems that these days, people are celebrated for just being famous, rather than for having a particular skill. I can understand being acknowledged because of what you do for a living: it fits that Nelson Mandela is known across the world – and rightly so. But being famous for being an actor, I do not understand; talented though they may be, invariably they are all arseholes – and often more so than the rest of us.
I can’t count the number of times that an actor has had a strop on set - demanding that everything be done their way, or else they’ll leave - but it is many. Even the best – most skilled – actors pull rank like this; it’s very tiresome and dull.
If I hear that an actor has been handed a cup of tea and not even given eye contact to the person bringing it to them, let alone said ‘thank you’, it makes me angry: when people can’t even project (fake) common courtesy to those around them, it turns me off. Respect and decency are not optional and should be mandatory if you’re bringing home a million-pound pay-packet and have a chauffer-driven car; others are barely covering their rent, working 18 hours a day and scared they’ll crash their car on the way home because they are so tired.
So when one of these shallow people chat me up, I don’t swoon at their feet; I don’t feel complimented that they might be interested in me; and I’m not impressed by who they are, even if they are drop-dead gorgeous. Instead I am aware of the abuse of their position: they can make an advance on any female on set with no consequence to them; the risk to the female crew-member however, is the loss of their job when the actor tires of them, such is the power of their status. I have seen this happen and don’t plan on losing my job any time soon.
With the knowledge that getting involved with an actor could cost me my career, I am able to put things into perspective: at work I may be desperately horny and attracted to an actor’s handsome physique, but with one small slip up – a moment of weakness resulting in their cock inside me – I can wave goodbye to my future. Not worth the risk I think.
Though it can be a little frustrating when I can’t find time to fiddle at work, it has to be said.