I’d been avoiding Facebook after I tried to join as Ms Naughty last year and it wouldn’t let me. It kept demanding a real name. And then I read about all the privacy issues and how you can’t ever delete your account. So I wasn’t keen.
But then an old friend encouraged me and I thought… OK, I’ll just do it a little bit.
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And now I’ve lost hours searching for old uni friends and people I used to know. On Facebook I’m myself, real name, photo, everything. And it’s kind of weird. Now I have to maintain an online profile of the real me, not the porn me, but that’s kind of cool. I’ve found all these people I used to know, been reminded of real-life connections and developed an urge to have a reunion.
And now I’ve got this nervous tension. I can’t list my official occupation on Facebook. I can’t say what I really do for a living. I’m happy to tell people face-to-face but I’m not going to out myself in such an obvious way on the net.
And no way am I going to indulge in the various plugins Facebook has to offer. For a start, the bastards want to know what colour your pubes are, and secondly… it’s a big fucking waste of time. While I’m glad to have joined in, I really don’t want to get caught up in the sort of site where it’s important to do the Dr Phil quiz or find out “what 80s song are you?”
I KNOW what 80s song I am, thank you very much. It’s Beat It. (No, wait. It’s Moonlight Shadow. No, it’s Ship of Fools… no… hang on… It’s anything by Sting…)
I will say this. Facebook looks better than MySpace. Not by much, but a little bit. And it does feel a little bit useful, although I suspect that usefulness will fade once I’ve had a chat to all my old friends.
I guess that if you’re desperate to know the real me, you can find out easily enough. But for now I’ll do my best to remain Ms Naughty. I sound so much more fabulous and mysterious that way.