My life with porn

Our journalist dishes on her life in London’s billion Pound porn industry (and it’s not what you’re thinking).

I am on my millionth Bumble date since I’ve moved to London. My hands are sweating as I sit in the trendiest bar in Soho. He is nice enough besides the fact that he is harping on about organic toothpaste and washing powder (I’m not sure how I feel about either). We’re discussing his job. He is a physiotherapist who owns twenty three practices in London. My forehead is sweating … I know what’s coming next. “So Ellen, what do you do for a living?” It’s a question that never does me any good. “I work in advertising” I say. This is the easiest way out. If they’re smart, they don’t pry further. “Oh my sister works in advertising, what company do you work for?”

Truthfully the company I work for is small, and though not exactly winning advertising awards, we’re well known enough to make millions of pounds annual turnover. In the office space, I call the shots. I manage a team of eight grown men and my life consists of stress-sweating, coffee, late nights, flights, champagne and sex, sex sex.

I stare into my peppermint tea (I really wanted a G&T but ordered tea because HE ordered tea- I am not this woman!). The sweats are bad and I have word vomit. “It’s a super small agency, you won’t know it. We specialise in mobile, so it’s a niche market”. The questions keep coming. ‘What KIND of advertising? Is it like brands?’ This is where it becomes make or break. ‘I work in porn’. I say it quietly and very quickly hoping he won’t hear it and we can move on to discussing something else. There is silence. The conversation awkwardly turns back to organic cleaning products and I know that shortly it will be time to call it a night.

On the dirty tube ride home, I think about my life. It’s as if I’m coming to you live from Nelly Furtado’s, “Promiscuous girl” music video. In truth, I’m not literally in porn. I was brought to London on a sponsorship (the UK government handed out 37 of my sponsorship type in 2016) to work in the porn industry. After all, porn needs great marketing campaigns too, right?

How did I get this job you might ask? People want to hear some weird sick twisted story but I’m afraid I don’t have much to say. My honours degree saw me with an average of 92%.  I wrote a thesis on the branding science behind the popularity of amphetamines within South African universities. Once a serious academic my life is now filled with vaginas, penises and orgasm faces. “Do you get turned on in your job?” Why are men so obsessed with this question? The answer is no. My office is not a massive orgy.  I have successfully managed to compartmentalize my work in the sex industry separately from my actual life. At no point do the two merge.

So what do we actually do?  We own pornographic content and people subscribe to our services on their mobiles. Horny Housewives, Cheating Ex Network and Dungeon Babes, you name the fetish – we have it. In Thailand alone we have 11 000 subscribers by 7 am.  This industry is bigger than anything you can comprehend. ‘Do you sit around watching porn all day?’ Some days yes, mostly no. The porn industry is a tough market place. It’s psychological and the nitty grittiness requires me to know formulas specific to mobile advertising. Who would have thought there are entire equations for this industry? I need to know profit margins off the back of my hand. It takes three months for porn to turn a profit. No one is a millionaire over night. It’s an industry of high stakes based on algorithms, graphs and predictions, kind of like the stock market.

I attend parties all over Europe. Conferences are hosted in almost every European country every month. Some are for general mobile gatherings – some are just for porn. I recently met Porn Hub affiliates in Germany. This is real life. People laugh and I get it… It’s madness. What is the best part of my job? Being a young, powerful woman in an industry dominated by men. I can use sex to my advantage without doing the deed.

I won’t lie to you, it helps being 5ft and the sole female among my biggest male clients. My boss is always chuffed with himself.  He will tell the client “This is Ellen, we bought her from Africa”. The client will look serious and nod in awe. What they don’t know is that I grew up in a prestigious part of Johannesburg and attended a fancy private school. I always keep that to myself. We travel Europe trawling for new business and go to fabulous restaurants, drink expensive champagne and enjoy VIP night clubs. This is the industry. What happens in Vegas, Barcelona, Prague or Berlin… stays there. Somehow, nothing ever gets out. It’s like one massive secret society. We’re in a weird silent pact with an understanding that there is no other industry like this. The men think they are invincible and untouchable. But they do not realise, the women are already there.

The nights are like clockwork. At 10 pm, the CEO’S of the major corporations lose their wedding rings and forget their children exist. They flirt, they spend. The bar tab is €10 000 and what can you expect when we danced all night in VIP boxes? Most nights I feel oodles of satisfaction throwing away the business cards from the married CEO’s. Did I close the million pound deal? Yes. Am I proud of myself for studying hard and working to gain the knowledge I need to succeed this industry? Also yes. While your mind runs wild, I should let you know that my business deals are closed through contracts and heavy financial negotiating, nothing below board if that is what you thought.

As the train chugs to my stop I think back on my array of failed Bumble dates and of physio guy (and the banker guy and property mogul before him) and I know I won’t hear from him again. It’s in that moment that I feel a sudden liberation. Do I need a dude crapping on about organic toothpaste? Do I need a dude who turns his nose up at a woman who is sure of herself and her life choices? Worse, do I need a man who judges at a woman who makes her own money and is not afraid to grow her own empire (I am also the CEO of my own company). Do I need a dude who is worried about what his family will think? No fucking way.

Watch out dudes- we’re taking over. The future is female, thanks for coming. Excuse the pun.

*For more from Ellen, read her daily blog at berriesandbotox.wordpress.com