I work in porn

Just out of school and determined to live anywhere besides my parents' new bunk bed guest room, I took the first job that came to me in San Francisco. It's just freelance and all I do is look at nudie pictures and color correct them but still I can say I work in porn. For eight hours every day, I sit in front of 27 inch monitors with gay porn magnified 28 million times before me. Honestly, I felt uneasy at first – like I would be punished for doing something very wrong every time someone walked by. I had an instinctive panicked reaction to want to immediately close any window called B.ig B.ang or Cow.boy J.acks. But as I looked around in twilight-zone confusion everyone else was looking at gay porn on the job.

Unfortunately after just 3 weeks, today is my last day. And not because of some sort of work related accident. I was offered an internship at an ad agency. It's just an internship and the pay sucks but it's one step closer to what I really want to do. And I don't have the, um – height – for the one step closer the porn job would get me.

I'll honestly miss it a little. The stocky middle-aged, self-proclaimed "queen" that only speaks broken Spanish to me, giggles uncontrollably, and says, "I so bad" whenever he refers to something that seems dirty...yet I never quite understand.

The very shy customer service rep with shaped eyebrows who I'm positive turns into someone fabulous like Simone or Vanessa on Friday nights.

And the sassy production guy who talks to himself all day in his corner and sounds exactly like Coco Peru.

Goodbye porn job. I only hope advertising will be as entertaining as you.