I grew up in that tough-guy Brooklyn way where you wanted respect and your girlfriend was supposed to be a virgin. It's that typical Jewish and Italian way of thinking. Your girl should be a virgin, but a slut with you behind closed doors. If someone in my neighborhood dated a girl who fucked a bunch of guys, she was considered a whore and a slut. And you couldn't be proud to bring her around. I don't agree with that way of thinking, but I couldn't help but have it on my mind.
I never set out to fall in love with a porn star. It just happened. My only fear in meeting Tera was wondering if I would measure up below the belt. I thought, "Oh my God. She had sex with professional guys who get paid to fuck who have really big dicks." Now, I know my dick is big. Girls have told me so. Lots of girls. But I did have to wonder if it was big compared to what she was used to. That was the one thing I was afraid of. I wasn't afraid that I was falling in love with a porn star. But I did wonder, "What if I'm in love with her but then I can't deal with what she does?" I thought I could handle it, but I couldn't help but fear that I might end up feeling like, "Why did I have to fall in love with you?"
The night before I was supposed to fly to California to meet Tera for the first time, I randomly ran into Jenna Jameson backstage at Korn's show at Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City. I knew who Jenna was, of course. And I had been introduced to her before. I have to say, I wasn't impressed. She used to be really cute. But here she was with no makeup on, bad skin, visible hair extensions, and she was wearing stretchy pants that had a hole in the butt.
So I'm talking to her and I politely tell her that I'm a fan, even though I really wasn't, and she tells me that she likes Biohazard. I believe her because she's friends with lots of rockers.
We're chitchatting and everything's cool. She had this weird guy with her who was wearing this Cat in the Hat hat and sporting scraggly dreads and tiny purple sunglasses. He looked like a douche-bag and followed her around like a puppy. She kept shooing him away as she sat on the lap of David Draiman from the band Disturbed. I was totally creeped out by the guy. I asked Jenna who he was. And she goes, "Oh, that's just Jay. Don't mind him." Later, I find out Jay is her husband. I thought, "I hope I never hear the words 'Oh, that's just Evan. Don't mind him' out of the mouth of someone I'm with."
She asks me, "Don't you date some girls in the business?"
"Nope. I don't, actually. But funny you mention it because I've been talking on the phone with Tera Patrick for months and I think we're falling in love. I'm flying out tonight to see her." I don't normally share like that, but I was all goofy and in love. I never talked about a girl like I did with Tera. That's not like me. But Tera was different.
Jenna sighs. "Ugh. Tera Patrick." It sounded as if she was sick of hearing her name. And then Jenna goes, "Ewwww," and tries to change the subject immediately.
I'm like, "Wait. What? Tera is gorgeous."
Jenna takes another dramatic deep breath and replies, "She's kind of big."
"Huh?" She is so skinny, I'm thinking.
"Yeah. She's kind of big, loose, and jiggly."
Now, if I have a female phobia, it's "big, loose, and jiggly." Jenna Jameson's catty little comment struck a nerve through my fucking heart. She could've said "cracked out, diseased, and ugly," and it wouldn't have bothered me as much. Something deep inside me was shaken, not stirred. Here I was convinced that I was flying out to meet this girl who was once hot, but who's now "big, loose, and jiggly." I know I shouldn't have cared, but it's my one pet peeve. Here's where I'm coming from. If I'm standing at the bar with two girls and one girl is an 8 with a face like an angel but overweight and the other girl is a 5 with a hot little body, I'm taking the 5 with the hot body home because you can dim the lights. I can fuck a girl who's ugly; just turn her around and dim the lights. I can fuck average chicks. But the one thing I can't fuck is "big, loose, and jiggly."
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I briefly considered not going to L.A. But then I looked over at Jenna and realized the source. Jenna wasn't looking that hot and Tera's star was on the rise. It was obvious she was just being a bitch. And besides, every picture I saw of Tera was stunning and I was falling in love with her and she with me.
I got on the plane, but I couldn't get the fear of the unknown out of my head. I somehow convinced myself that Tera was really just some ditzy porn chick and that even though we'd had all these great conversations, everything out of her mouth must have been a lie. Part of it was self-loathing. Here's this girl who can go out with any A-list celebrity or billionaire she wants and she likes me? Something must be wrong with her. To make myself feel better I made backup plans. To this day, Tera gives me shit about this. I had three separate backup plans with friends, and even one ex-girlfriend, who I'd go see if Jenna was right.
Sherman Oaks Castle Park 3/1/2002
CHAPTER 14
The First Date
We finally made a date for September 4, 2002. The night before he was to fly across country, we stayed up on the phone for hours. He would fly into Long Beach Airport, arriving at seven o'clock in the morning and I'd be there to pick him up. I was really nervous about meeting him. But most of all, I couldn't stop thinking, "Is he going to like me?" And as great as our conversations had been on the phone, I was also a little worried about some of the things I'd heard about him from my friends. The words "pig," "womanizer," and "cock puppet" kept coming up. "Cock puppet" I liked. But what worried me was whether he really was a womanizing pig. In my heart, I knew from our hours on the phone that he was a good guy, but my head was trying to talk me out of it.
When I pulled over to pick him up, he was wearing his grand-father's fedora, shorts, and a sweatshirt. He looked very classy. He put down his small suitcase and took the toothpick out of his mouth, smiled, and said, "Well, it's really nice to meet you, Tera Patrick." I thought, "Yep, that's my husband. That is the smile I'm going to see when we're both ninety and gray."
I completely melted and felt weak all over. He put his hands on me, and when he touched my skin I felt this warm, intense feeling just building up inside of me--there was so much sexual tension. I had never in my entire life felt this way about anybody. His big hazel eyes were so alive, and I just wanted to stare into them forever.
Me and Evan on our first date
He got in the car and he said, "Hi, Linda." I loved that he called me Linda. He saw me for who I really was. He'd flip between calling me Linda and Tera. Either was fine with me, really. And it was Linda he was meeting. I picked him up in nothing but a simple pair of Miss Sixty jeans and a white tank top, with my hair brushed straight and little makeup on and diamond studs in my ears. I wanted him to see the real me--pure and natural and not all porno-ed out. I wanted him to love me.
I can't remember our first kiss. But I remember our first sniff. He got in the car, leaned in really close, and smelled my neck and my hair. He gave me goose bumps. He touched my neck very gently and I got nervous. He said, "Wow. You are so beautiful." He just kept touching my hair and saying sweet things to me and I just kept thinking, "This is real."
We raced back home to my apartment in Sherman Oaks and couldn't wait to have sex. We walked in, he dropped his bags on the floor, and he took me by the hand and twirled me around to get a good look at me. And then he kissed me. This would be the first time of a zillion times he would take me by the hand and spin me around. It became our special little thing. After that tender moment, we couldn't help but rip each other's clothes off. I finally got to see that big cock of his that I got a glimpse of on Oz and was happy to see that it was even bigger than I thought--nine inches and with good girth. We were trying to impress each other and outdo the other. We had a competitive vibe going, like "I'm a porn star." "Well, I'm a rock star." He thought he was the sexual dynamo, and I knew I was the sex bomb. We literally tried to outfuck each other, doing all of these crazy things to impress the other. "Yeah, you like that? Well, take this!" Or, "You like doggy-style? I'll do doggy-style on my head!" It was fun and excit
ing.
We even tried to one up each other when it came to stocking up on sex toys. We went to Home Depot and were going up and down the aisles trying to freak the other out. We got 100 feet of this thick, heavy rope to tie each other up. We got duct tape. He bought these rubber gloves that go up to the elbow as a joke and I was like, "What are you going to do with those?!" We bought phone wire and I was like, "OK, I come home and you will be hiding in the closet with a ski mask on and you'll come out and get me and tie me up with phone wire!"
When we got home and got at it we were making so much noise. I was screaming, the headboard was banging on the wall, and the furniture was getting thrown all over the place. I'm normally really quiet. I never had guys over. No one in my building knew what I did for a living. I kept it very safe and quiet at my place. But when Evan got there, all that went out the window. We were so loud that the neighbors started complaining and my landlord Dave--he reminded us of Mr. Roper from Three's Company--came to my door.
"There's a lot of noise in here, and that's unusual," Dave said.
Evan walked out naked with a towel on his dick and goes, "Is it?"
Dave didn't know what to think. He left but he must have come back a dozen more times over the four days we spent holed up in my apartment having sex. On day two, he said he heard me screaming and thought Evan was killing me. In fact, I like to get choked during sex, so he was hearing screaming and gasping for air, but it was all good. Dave knocked on our door for the zillionth time and said to Evan, "Are you hurting her?" Evan was so fed up with all the interruptions by then that he cracked back to Dave, "Maybe I am, but she likes it!"
And that's when the cops got called for the first time.
Two cops showed up: a jarhead-looking Robocop and a Mexican cop who actually seemed kind of cool. They said that several neighbors reported what they thought might be a domestic dispute. Evan pulled the Mexican cop aside and said, "Hey, here's the deal. We've been talking on the phone for three months and this is our first time together." He loved telling our story to anyone. And he goes, "Have you heard of Tera Patrick?" The cop got all wide-eyed and said, "Yes!" And Evan said, "Well, that's her in there." I came out and said hi and assured them that we were fine and they left.
It was the most incredible time. It was very emotional, too. I cried. I felt things I had never felt before. And I knew that he was going to marry me. I know this sounds crazy, but I prayed for Evan. I really did. I would lie in bed awake at night and cry and think, "What man is going to want to marry me? A porn star? The biggest porn star in the business? Who is going to take me home to their mother? "Hi, Mom. This is Linda, uh, Tera, uh, the star of Sex Island. But she's really nice, Mom, really." It scared me. It terrified me, actually. I wondered who was going to love me for me.
At the end of Evan's first stay with me, I remember lying down side-by-side with him, just holding each other. I looked up at him and he looked down at me, and he said, "You know when you're the most beautiful? When you're not trying to be."
EVAN SEINFELD
I arrived at Long Beach Airport, just thirty miles south of Los Angeles, and I was waiting for Tera. I saw this smoking hot chick in a silver 360 Modena Ferrari go zipping past. And I got excited. The phone rings and it's Tera. I pick up and ask her, "Was that you in the silver Ferrari?"
She told me, "No, I'm in an Infiniti QX4."
I thought, "Damn. I wanted to drive that Ferrari." And I started feeling anxious all over again. She could still be a cow. But my anxiety only lasted a minute. The Infiniti appeared, pulled up to the curb, and I looked at her through the windshield and my heart melted. Jenna Jameson didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. And I was a fool for even worrying about it.
In my fantasies, if I were to draw up the perfect woman, I couldn't even have imagined a woman as perfect as Tera. She had the exotic look I loved. Her skin was gorgeous. Her hair was so beautiful and soft. Even sitting down in the driver's seat, I could tell she was tall and statuesque, but still petite and tight on her frame. Supermodels want to look like this girl. I saw my wildest dreams incarnated in Tera Patrick. She had it all--a beautiful mind, body, and soul.
I got in the car and I was just mesmerized by her. She looked like a movie star. It felt like heaven. It took me to a place I've never been. I just sat across from her and took it all in. It was sensory overload. I smelled her. She didn't smell like perfume. She didn't have that bad perfume smell that all the girls before her had. She just smelled gorgeous. She smelled like some shampoo that's so expensive I'd never heard of it, clean and natural and incredibly sexy. I was completely erect just from smelling her. It was really love at first sniff.
And I couldn't keep my hands to myself. We were groping and touching and kissing as she drove. We'd been talking for three months on the phone. I was done talking. I was ready to start the humping. She was nervous, and it turned me on that she was nervous. But I couldn't help but think, "What's wrong with her? No chick could be this good looking and available. Maybe she has Tourette's syndrome or terrible gas. Maybe she has a tail. Maybe her pussy looked like a bulldog eating porridge." I didn't even know what that meant, but I feared it. What did I do to have the most beautiful girl in the world interested in me and turned on by me? I was so in love with her already. It felt too good to be true.
When we opened the door I was struck at how "Americana" she had her place decorated. It was almost Martha Stewart-esque. She had all of these vintage American items from the '50s like old Her-shey's chocolate syrup signs on the wall. I didn't care. It was her, and all I wanted to do was rip her clothes off. I tore them off her like a savage animal. We started fucking all over the house. We broke furniture. We broke mirrors. It looked like a crime scene. We were going at each other, back and forth. Tera was very aggressive with me and she wanted me to be aggressive with her. She wanted me to fuck her as hard as I could and not stop. We broke the headboard off the bed. I threw my back out and I didn't want to tell her. I didn't want her to think of me as "Old Man Seinfeld" with his Jewish ailments. It was crazy.
I'm the overaggressive "sex addict" to start with and I'd never felt intimidated by a girl--ever. But here I am with this girl who fucked professional fuckers, so I felt like I had to outfuck the pros. I was like, "Yeah? You like that shit? Who's your daddy?" We had sex for four days and nights. I had spent my whole sexual life trying to recapture the feeling I had when I was thirteen and lost my virginity. And with Tera, I'd finally done it; only it was so much better this time.
Tera and I went at it so loud and long that the cops came. That's how you know you're having great sex: when the cops come. She was screaming. I was grunting and groaning. Her landlord Dave was a bully. He just kept knocking on our door complaining about the noise. We must have had twenty-five interruptions in those four days between Dave and the cops. Dave would find any reason to bother us. One time he complained that the car was parked an inch over the line, but mostly he kept coming back because it sounded like I was killing Tera inside.
When the cops showed up the first time, I explained our story to them and how this was our first time having sex after just talking on the phone for months. Tera came out in her robe, smiles at the cops, and said, "Hiiiiii!" I looked at one cop and go, "You get it now?" He looked at his partner and said, "There's nothing to see here."
Tera and I went back at it. We did everything. We were being silly, taking these photos of each other. We were having a lot of fun. I was trying to take a P.O.V. picture of myself peeing on her. Some people don't understand what peeing is all about. Peeing on each other isn't about the pee. It's about domination and submission. It's when she lays down on the floor of the shower and gives herself fully and says, "Go ahead do whatever you want. I'm yours." We are a perfect match because I am so overdominant and she is super-submissive All of her friends' worst fears came true: I made her my cock puppet. But she loved it.
It was so different for me. We were so connected. It was different from anything I'd ever don
e and I've fucked hundreds of girls. I was never a fan of the missionary position, but Tera loves it and I grew to love it. I think I wasn't a fan before because I didn't care about the girls I fucked so I didn't want to look them in the face. But I love missionary with Tera because I love looking at her. It was really emotional. We were falling deeper in love.
I was a little confused, though. I didn't know what to call her. I had been calling her Linda on the phone, but I also called her Tera. I met her as Tera, but now here I was someone special to her so I thought that maybe I should call her Linda and be the only one who does. I was confused. I kept going back and forth. I think she wanted me to call her Linda.
When she brought me to the airport at the end of our four days, I said to her, "I hope this doesn't sound crazy and I hope this isn't too soon and I hope I don't fuck this up, but I think I'm in love with you."
CHAPTER 15
Trust
TERA: The following weekend, I flew out to Brooklyn to visit Evan. He took me on a motorcycle ride around Manhattan on his gorgeous West Coast Chopper built by Jesse James. We pulled up to the club Lotus and ran into Dante Ross, who was Erik's producer, though I didn't know it at the time. Evan introduced me to Dante as "my girlfriend, Tera." Dante looked me up and down and clearly recognized my name and who I was. He must have called Erik right away because the next thing I knew Erik started blowing up my phone and leaving dozens of messages--thirty to be exact. "You fucking whore. I know you're with another guy. What's going on? Call me back." I never called him back.
Evan had run out for an errand and I was alone in his loft in the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn, freaking out over Erik's barrage of messages. There was no way I was going to call him back or pick up the phone. Since Erik didn't respect me, I didn't give him the respect to tell him I had moved on. I didn't think I owed him anything. Erik had been on tour when I met Evan and he wasn't calling me that much, and I wasn't calling him. I never officially broke it off with him because I didn't want a confrontation. It was just easier to move on quietly and let what we had fizzle into oblivion.
Sinner Takes All: A Memoir of Love & Porn Page 11