Tera Patrick - Sinner Takes All

On days he would shoot, he’d buy me an expensive gift like Christian Louboutin shoes or Agent Provocateur lingerie, or send me shopping. I might have mistaken those tokens as love then, but I don’t buy it now. At the time, I was accepting of it because I knew he loved me and cared about me and would come home to me. He’d come back from a shoot with flowers and act all lovey-dovey, and it was fine for a while. I thought I was OK, but as time went on, I realized material things like Gucci bags and a closet full of clothes and a nice car and a beautiful house (like that Talking Heads’ song “Once in a Lifetime”) wasn’t what I wanted. Like the song, I questioned, “How did I get here?”

I wanted to marry a rock star, live happily ever after, get out of porn, and get into mainstream. But Evan loves being in porn. That’s his dream now. My love wasn’t enough to keep us together. His take was this: “I’m having a great time. I’m having my cake and I get to eat it, too.” But all I could think toward the end was “What about my cake?” I was willing to let him get into porn to make him happy, but I was sacrificing my own happiness, though I didn’t know it at the time. He wouldn’t make that one sacrifice for me.

The beginning of the end for us was at the 2009 AVN Awards in January in Las Vegas when I was inducted into the AVN Hall of Fame to commemorate my ten years in the business—five years on my own and five years with Evan. After getting off that stage at AVN, I said, “I’m done.” I had accomplished what I set out to do. What else can I do in adult film? I did it all. I conquered a man’s world. I was the only woman other than Jenna Jameson who had started her own company and moved on to hire girls and make beautiful movies. I had worked very hard for a very long time and had accomplished what I set out to do. It was time for phase two of my life, but I didn’t know it just yet.

From January 2009 until my thirty-third birthday on July 25, 2009, which was when we were in the middle-to-late stages of writing this book, I began to really reevaluate my life, my goals, my true needs, and think about what my future held. I thought a lot about Evan—the good and the bad. This wasn’t a rash decision. I searched my heart and soul for those seven months, but on my birthday, my decision was etched in stone.

At my party at the Tao nightclub in Las Vegas, there was a pivotal moment when I looked up at Evan, and when he looked back, his eyes did not say, “This is my wife and I adore her and I’m so proud of her and I’m happy to be here with her on her birthday.” His eyes said, “Yeah, whatever.” I felt like a trophy wife. I felt like this shiny polished AVN award that he was picking up when it was convenient, putting in the spotlight, fanning and waving, and putting it back on the shelf when he was done. Then he would go to party with Cuba Gooding Jr. or Brett Ratner, which is exactly what he did that night. Evan spent more time with Cuba at my birthday party then he did with me, his fucking wife, at my own birthday party. I felt taken for granted and I felt used. I didn’t want to be there. I was in a crowded club where all my fans looked at me with more love, devotion, and admiration than my own husband did.

Evan got what he wanted. He got the trophy wife. He got the big house and the nice cars. He got into porn. He got his connections. He got into the hottest clubs in Vegas, Miami, Los Angeles, and around the world. He regained the fame he once lost from no longer being on Oz or in a hot band. But I didn’t get my dream: a man to love me, be with me, change with me, and evolve with me. The look of true love in his eyes was gone.

And I remember feeling that emptiness in Tao. All of a sudden I sat down and the music was pulsating and everyone was crowding around me—that was the life-changing moment for me. That switch in my head went off; I got that feeling in my stomach I used to get telling me something is not right here. I felt awful. I didn’t feel like a wife or a person. Early on it wasn’t about parading me around town; it was about our love, him and I, and that changed. That was really painful. It’s painful to be writing these words. I never thought this would happen. I never thought we’d be in this place.

During those seven months between AVN and my birthday, I felt like I was living in a cloud. My thinking slowly evolved during that time. I was technically living the dream, but what was once fulfilling became unfulfilling. That birthday was reflective for me. Birthdays are always like that for me. Evan always made my special day into his special day—a big party at a flashy club that was very showy with lots of presents, celebrity guests, and people I didn’t know. I once liked that, but I no longer do. My next birthday will be at my house with my family and a few close friends who truly care and love me, not “Tera Patrick, the porn star,” and who won’t be looking over my shoulder to see if a more interesting celebrity or connection is walking in.

I gave him an ultimatum. I did. I don’t care if that sounds bad; it’s what I had to do. I said to Evan, “I’m your wife and that is the strongest bond two people should have, and that should come first. I’ve moved on from porn. And I want you to stop. You promised me you’d only do porn for a few years. Your few years are up. It’s your porn career or me.”

(I haven’t shot a movie since 2006, when we put a ton of footage in the can. If you see a DVD dated 2007, 2008, or 2009, it was shot around 2006. The only porn I’ve done recently was a sex scene I did with Evan for his website in 2009, which was just my way of showing my undying love and support for him. )

“Listen,” I told him, early one morning in our Sherman Oaks house, “I love you. We’ve achieved so much. Look at what we’ve done. I will always love you. But I just want to put the marriage first. You know I’m not doing porn anymore. I’ve written this book as closure to that chapter of my life, and I’ve been inducted into the Hall of Fame, cementing ten years in this business, which is a good point to stop. I’m doing my Vegas burlesque show. I’m getting offers for reality shows. Life has gone on for me. I’m on to phase two of my life and career now. I’m done with phase one. I’m not turning my back on it. I’ll keep terapatrick.comand I want us to keep our baby, Teravision, alive. But you’re my husband. You are a rock star. I want you to pursue your music career instead of a porn career. You pursue music and mainstream acting, and I’ll pursue my new ventures.”

And he said, in typical Evan fashion, “Don’t give an ultimatum. No one will ever give me an ultimatum. I’m not going to quit. Why would I want to quit?”

I was surprised at his response. I truly thought the power of love would make him see the light. I would’ve done anything to keep him, but eventually I had to do what was right for me.

His goal was to become a porn star, and he got it. I realized I didn’t come first to him anymore, and that broke my heart. It was the hardest thing I’ve had to face. I took my Hello Kitty suitcase and my dogs Chopper and Mr. Big Time, packed them in the pink smart car Evan had given me on Valentine’s Day, and headed off. As I drove off, I started thinking, “OMG, my whole life sits in a safe in my Sherman Oaks home—all of my finances, my business papers, my security—and it is with him. I need my own safe. My own financial independence.”

“Where are you going?!” he screamed, running out the door and waving me down. And I said, “I’m going to be with my mother in Vegas.” He didn’t believe that I could drive those 280 miles to Las Vegas by myself because I had never done it before, but I did it. It felt like a Thelma and Louise moment (just without the tragic ending). I cranked up Madonna’s “Jump” and Linkin Park’s “In the End” and drove and cried the whole way to Vegas, never looking back. And that is when I felt truly empowered and free. For once I was not afraid to be alone. I knew I could do this. Hell, it was Evan who had helped me get strong. I made up my mind and stuck to it and soon filed for divorce. As fate would have it, I filed for divorce on September 4, 2009, which was the seventh anniversary of our first official date. Though it was my choice, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t devastated. I so wanted him to tell me he would quit and put me first. I so wanted him to tell me he loved me and would do anything for me. But he didn’t and that will forever hurt.