Conner Habib
  • Paccarik Orue
  • CONNER HABIB Does porn.

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Listen, I want to tell you a story, and it's about porn.

I was dating this guy who was handsome and made me laugh and had dishwater blond hair. He lived in San Francisco and New York. The first time we ever talked was at the gym—he was staring at me (at my calves, he told me later), and I caught him looking. Then he approached me and asked me out on a date. I said no, but then the thing was, I kept thinking about him. His face and his voice. So a few weeks later, I found him and said yes.

Yes what? he said.

Yes, a date, let's go.

Since I don't want to keep saying "this guy," let's call him Alex. He's a private person. Not the sort of man who would want his name all over the internet. I hope you like the name I gave you, Alex.

Anyway, we went to this bourgeois tea and food place. There was a statue of Buddha, and the menu was all platitudes. The teas had names like "Goddess of Wisdom." I just had water. Alex ordered "Ocean of Mercy." It was supposed to be very peaceful.

In that place of manufactured calmness, on our first date, Alex asked me my favorite question: So what do you do?


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