I can’t write long because I need to jump in the shower and start getting ready. It’s going to be a long day…
The Mathematician is coming over for a few hours when he gets off work this afternoon.
He took me out to dinner on Tuesday night. We went to Dos Caminos on 14th Street. Dos Caminos makes excellent guacamole. Their margaritas are fantastic as well, as I remember, though it’s been a while since I had one.
He’s easy to make happy, this one. He wants to be with me all the time. He sends me text messages and email notes throughout the day. I wouldn’t let a client do that. Actually, if a client did that, I might have to call the police, because a client wouldn’t do that. Not unless there was something wrong with him (I do have an issue with a weirdo client to tell you about, but I’ll get to that later). The Surgeon doesn’t usually pay that much attention to me, unless he’s in a strange mood or he’s concerned that I might be making a break for it. Concerned that I was, you know, getting squirrely.
Here’s the thing: the Mathematician’s still paying me.
What to do, what to do? I haven’t stressed out about it much since I wrote the Decision Flow Chart blog post, but it’s still an issue, no getting around it.
Money keeps it safe. But every instinct that I have tells me that this man wants to have a relationship with me. I could be mistaken, but I doubt it. The Mathematician is a pretty transparent person, as healthy, sane guys usually are.
Money keeps it safe.
Maybe I’ll try something this afternoon. I bought him a Christmas card. This afternoon, I’ll ask him for his advice regarding a little problem I’m having at my teaching-center job. See how he responds to it. It is not my habit to burden clients with my personal problems–that’s inappropriate on a number of levels.
Moving on…here’s another question I have for you, Gentle Reader: why are photographers such sleazebags? Is there such a thing as a photographer in NYC who doesn’t try to date his models? Do I need to start looking specifically for gay photographers, or what? Women photographers?
I had a photoshoot this week. Picked the guy at random after I found his work on the internet and decided that I liked it. He was talented; some of the images came out very well. But he was sleazy. Sleazy! I didn’t confront him on it because there’s no point–he’s clueless–but in my head I was thinking, Guy, I’m paying you $200/hour. That’s the going rate for a good physician or a lawyer. For an architect. Is it too much to expect that you conduct yourself with a similar degree of decorum and professionalism?
There was a funny moment when he asked me if I wanted him to “send some work” my way. I could tell that he was confused.
“I’m strictly fetish,” I told him.
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Strictly fetish. No sex. At least, not in the traditional sense of the word.”
He stared at me, incomprehending. “No sex?”
“So what do you do?“
“Just about anything else.”
“What else is there?”
I started laughing. The sex lives of my fellow Americans, I swear.
I have a story about a creepy client, but I’ll tell you about that later. Maybe you can give me a little advice about it.