Porn Fans Aren’t What They Used To Be. And James Deen Just Wants To Talk About Pandas.

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Jan. 24 2013 2:40 PM

Porn Fans Aren’t What They Used To Be

Reporting from the Adult Entertainment Expo, where the gun-owning, flip-phone-carrying demo reigns and James Deen just wants to talk about pandas.

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Outside the awards show, at the spot where the freewheeling casino hallway ends and the locked-down velvet rope begins, two lines of gawkers form a drunk-guy funnel for arriving stars. I’ve found myself squished into a pack of five young fans who are upending Bud Lights, cat-calling Ron Jeremy, and taking turns strutting down the porn gauntlet. I request an interview. “We’re gonna be on TV!” one replies. “I’m just gonna say tits, ass, and fuck a lot,” says another. A third handles the crotch of his stars-and-stripes-festooned jorts, doing his best James Deen. “Do you want to take a picture of this?” he asks me.

I do not. I gravitate to the most coherent member of the group, a 25-year-old with a dazed grin and close-cropped hair who wears neither a tank top nor sunglasses at night. He offers his name, then takes it back—preferring to be identified by the porn name he has just invented.

Sleazy-D never pays for porn. He doesn’t even shell out for porn conventions—he and his buddies snuck in instead of dishing out for the official lanyard. Then he just kind of did whatever—chatted up his porn idol Evan Stone (“he gets to fuck the hottest chicks”), high-fived some porn star, looked at boobs. I asked Sleazy-D what a porn actress would need to do for him to actually pay for it.


“I would pay to have her climb into my bed,” he says.


“Well, that’s rude.”

Escorting, then?

Sleazy-D laughs in approval and offers me a high-five. Then he cranes his neck back toward the gauntlet to train his eyes on a leggy blonde in a microscopic red dress making her way into the awards. Sleazy-D reconsiders his position. “She’s hot,” he says. “I don’t know who she is, but if she had a webcam? I would pay a marginal amount for her.”

Then she was gone, disappeared behind the awards show doors, and Sleazy-D forgot about her as quickly as he had noticed her. Yielding to the allure of something immediate and free, he turned to me and said, “So, what are you doing later?”