Sexuality Happens

(I started writing this way back in August, and then decided to put the events out of my head. Here it is, almost 2 months later, for your reading pleasure and amusement)

The other day, Chris invited me along on a photoshoot of hers. He wanted another person, and it was a vampire photo shoot, so it sounded like a really awesome time, especially since Chris and I then planned on going out on the town afterwards, and I really wanted to hang out with her.

OH MY GOD. More awkward experience of my life, EVER. Really, EVER. And I am an incredibly awkward person. I mean, I was the inspiration for the awkward turtle, awkward moose and awkward snail.  And here we are - it just doesn’t get more awkward than this.

So we’re looking for the address this photographer gave us.  Chris found him on ModelMayhem and had talked to a previous model he’d worked with, to make sure he was legit. We’re driving and suddenly the street his place is supposed to be on ends.  Hmm. We turn around. And drive back.  The street ends this way. No houses. Hmmm. Well, we decided to go look at the complex nearby — maybe he has a rented studio.

Except it turns out not to be a complex. It’s actually a long-term care hospital. And it has the right address.  He forgot to mention that he lived in a hospital. And apparently did his shoots in his hospital room.  Chris is in her corset, so she sends me into the reception area to figure out that we’re in the right place (I’m not in a corset, but also not in a hospital going outfit).  We are. And a gentleman in a wheelchair offers to show me his room. I get Chris to park, and we carry in our bags filled with heels, lingerie, etc through the halls of the hospital, as residents in wheelchairs and hospital beds glare at us in fluorescent lit hallways. Awkward? Oh yes.

We get to the room, and knock on his door.  Upon a “come in,” we enter.  To find an undressed men (and yes, he had man boobs to rival my own. Ain’t nothing wrong with man boobs…but not quite the way to start a professional photo shoot). And he also had no legs. And a giant catheter bag hanging off the side of the bed…right where he directed us to drop our stuff.

Now, as someone with disabilities, I have no issues with this. I think it’s awesome he’s found a way to practice his art. However, you MIGHT mention to your models that you will be shooting IN A HOSPITAL.  Just saying.  

So Chris and I are super uneasy at this point.  Weird vibes.  And then…oh….and then a hospital worker comes in. “We’ve been having complaints from some of the residents about women in various stages of dress coming in and out of your room at all hours.  Also, you cannot run a business out of here.”  Chris and I look at each other. Corset. Short skirts. Low cut top.  Yup. Various stages of dress.  Here for a photoshoot, a business venture.  Yup.  *gulp*  He starts arguing with the woman as we tip toe into the hallway.

At this point, I’m furiously texting everyone I know. “OMGWTFBBQ?!?!?!” 

“Um, Em?” I look at Chris. “That woman at the end of the hallway in the wheelchair is glaring at us.”  I turn my head. Indeed, she is.  I take a deep breath, say some unintelligable panicky words, and go back to texting.

“Um…she’s coming closer.” Slowly, I swivel my head. She’s about one full turn of the wheels closer.  I look back at Chris with wide eyes. And then back at the woman.  Another full turn closer.

“I. CANNOT. HANDLE. THIS. RIGHT. NOW.” I say slowly and deliberately. “We’re leaving.  Let’s just go get our stuff and leave.” We agree, and head back in.  We walk in, explain to both of them that we’re just going to grab our stuff and head out…until BOTH of them say “oh no, please don’t go. We’re done talking. Please stay.”

We should have gone.  We did not. We stayed. He had us move this suitcase over flowing with women’s clothing and props to the side of the sheet he had set up for a photo shoot.  I went to the bathroom and was putting on my red lipstick as I listened to him talking to Chris. “Yeah, that was this model’s stuff from a day or two ago.  She was up in Denver to stay with her boyfriend, so she thought she’d just leave her stuff here and come get it later.” OH. MY. GOD.  I was staring at myself in the mirror thinking that he must have murdered her and was trying to figure out how to explain her stuff being left over.  I was trying to figure out how to get the two of us out of there alive. But couldn’t.

We started the shoot. I was the vampire, she was the sweet innocent one. Except by sweet and innocent, I mean he asked her to take off her underwear and flash the camera a little. It was so odd.

During our first outfit change, he spoke up to me:

Creepy Guy: “I’m just going to go out on a limb here, but I’m gonna guess you’re bi, right?”

Me: “You’re half right. I’m a lesbian.” (I wasn’t about to explain my queer identity to him).

Creepy Guy: “Oh.” Turned to Chris. “Are you a lesbian too?”

Chris: “Nope.  100% straight.”

Creepy Guy: “Oh.”

And from then on, I did not exist.  The shoot became a shoot of Chris’s vagina and vulva. Granted, we didn’t know it at the time…he had her pose nude for some body scapes…and then had us pose together, clothed and nude.  But when he sent us the proofs, MORE THAN 200 of the 500 proofs were of Chris’s nude vulva/vagina, and another 50 focused on her clothed crotch. I kid you not - I was cropped out of at least 50% of the pictures, so that he could focus on the area between her legs.  As we scanned through them later, the sound track was (I was the voice over):

“Vagina. Vagina. And here, we have some more vagina. Ooooh. Look! It’s Chris’s vagina. In case you missed it, here we have an example of vagina. Vagina. More vagina. And if you’ll scroll down, you may in fact find, you guess it, MORE VAGINA!” Poor Chris was crying she was laughing so hard…and joked about not being able to be naked for a week because she was so over seeing herself naked.

We pretty much packed up our shoot and ran out of there, headed to Chipotle, and just sat there, stunned, as we ate.  There was just nothing to say. I was literally speechless. I mean. What do you say after that?

He STILL hasn’t send up (after almost 8 weeks!) the final version of the pictures, despite repeated requests.  I mean, if nothing else, I’d like to get a good image or two out of that. Did I mention he told us he wanted to do a “dead 80’s crack whore” shoot in the Springs with us…at a creepy hotel…with a REAL gun? Yeah.  We were both like “suuuuure….” and booked it out the door.

So yes. I hope you were as entertained by this as I was made speechless by it at the time.  Welcome to a day in the life of Essin’ Em :)

-Essin’ Em