Leave Chris Crocker Alone!

I have spent many nights submerged in the fabulous gay culture of West Hollywood. Celebrity gossip abounds in that town. Chris Crocker, of YouTube fame, could be seen walking up and down Santa Monica Boulevard almost nightly with his porn star posse. It was most likely because he wasn't old enough to get into the clubs, but regardless, the talk of the town was that he was a drug dealer, hooker­­--you name it, he allegedly did it.

I had the unexpected privilege of chatting with Chris one night at a coffee shop on the corner of Santa Monica and Robertson. I was there by myself. ­­The friend I had come with was lost with a trick he had met down the street at Rage. I immediately noticed Chris when he walked through the door­­--bleached blond hair, pale white makeup, outlandish threads, and a horribly sad look on his face. I sat down beside him after ordering my Blended Caramel Mocha and pretended not to notice who he was. I heard him mutter to himself, "Oh my God." Being the southern gentleman that my mother raised me to be, I immediately asked him what was wrong. He said he hated this place. I don't blame him. We're both from the South­­--a completely different world compared to where we were then conversing.

A couple weeks later I was at a party with one of Chris's friends, a porn star by the pseudonym Cameron Michaels. We had a pretty interesting conversation about Chris. Apparently, he had become bitter since he achieved his fame and signed deals for upcoming advertisement gigs and a reality show. Everyone pretended to hate him, even though they were probably just jealous that they never had a chance in the limelight.

Anyway, I can't get that image of his face out of my mind. Underneath all the makeup and hairspray, I could tell that he was this scared little country boy with no clue how to make it in such a cut­throat town. And that's exactly who he is--another Britney Spears, River Phoenix, or Janis Joplin. I have a new respect for those kinds of people who are thrown into the fiery pits of stardom. It really takes a toll on a person's soul, and personally, I will never pass judgment on anyone like that again. Because, you know what? We're all the same­­; just some of us are luckier than others.