The Hot Photographer Refuses To Date Me, So I Hired Him For Nudes Instead
To some people taking nudes classifies as “work” making it a professional relationship — but going on a date would obviously cross the line. Funny, how it’s always the clearest of lines that get blurry first.
After my break-up drama, I swore off dating apps and was determined to steer clear of romantic entanglements. That was the plan, at least, until an evening work function tossed me into the path of an obscenely hot photographer.
I also didn’t expect to see him 3 times over the coming week. I’m going to blame the universe for my lack of resistance.
And yet, all my brain cells (the ones who didn’t have champagne on an empty stomach) told me not to engage. Don’t look at him, don’t even smile at the camera for that matter. WALK AWAY. THIS IS A WORK EVENT!!
Why are all the off-limit things always so alluring?
Towards the end of the night, a passing “Hi” quickly escalated into flirting and banter. We got along too well, even in my tipsy, humble opinion. All of my colleagues know about my boyfriend. None of them know about the open relationship. It doesn’t help that my poker face is about as subtle as a neon sign. Over an hour after his shift had ended, we called it a night and I excused myself to find the ladies’ room. When I came back he was gone. Probably for the best.
By the time I got home, I saw a Linkedin request pop up on my phone. It was him. I decided to ignore it.
It was a two-night event. When I arrived the next night, he spotted me immediately. He barely had a moment to wink in my direction and I was already blushing. There we go again with the poker face. Love it.
I turned, heading straight for the bar to grab a non-alcoholic drink (I do learn from mistakes..) He trailed behind me, catching up just as I ordered.
He brought up the missing Linkedin request, so I played it cool for once: “Funny, you didn’t give me the impression you wanted to be a business connection..”
— “I don’t. But you were gone when I came back” (ahh so that’s the excuse..)
Reminding him how this game was played, I shot back: “If you want my number you’re gonna have to ask for it.”
And so he did, and that was all the face-to-face interaction we had that day. Instead, we receded to texting all night long with the occasional hidden glance from across the room.
The next day we continued texting on and off. Him trying to draw a clear line that would establish us in a professional “client/photographer” relationship.. whilst sending me a pic of his wet abs, having just come out of the shower. Ooookaaay.
Friday that week, I coincidentally ran into him for the third time. This time it was a private event. I suggested going for a nightcap, curious to see where things would lead. He politely declined, saying he worked too hard on his career to mess things up with his freelance clients.
So why ask for my number then? Why send hot pics? Was this all just about attention for him?
Instead of the nightcap, we continued to text for 2 hours. I made an suggestive joke about how hard his job must be taking nudes of models all day long. He laughed it off, clarifying that his “models” are usually product shots.
I’ve been wanting to have professional, tasteful nudes taken for ages. So as one thing led to another we started talking about a project like that.
Why would anyone consciously manoeuvre themselves into such a ridiculously idiotic position?
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was testing his reserve a little. He seemed so idealistic about the professional line he drew, maybe I wanted to know just how much he meant it.
Breaking the rules is exhilarating, but having someone break his own rules for you? That’s an entirely other level.
No surprise there: He was super keen. It was (almost) a regular job, he is a photographer after all. No boundaries crossed — just yet.
(Fine, I didn’t exactly hire him. I just let him believe that it was his idea to meet at his studio the next day.)
As I was about to take my shirt off, reality started to sink in. My heart was racing in my chest. Is this the most courageous or the most stupid thing I’ve ever done? I can still walk away, get in the tube and go home.
The whole afternoon was a dance of intimacy, laced with playful banter. It was sexy. Open and honest. It was probably my biggest dare yet. And breaking through my own hesitation — my timid nudeness — shone through in the photos as fierce femininity.
There was a moment when I just stood in front of him. Completely naked except for my black heels. A solid 10 cm between us. His camera dangling in his hand. Our eyes locked in a standoff, every second adding to the intrigue. We stood frozen, grinning like fools who couldn’t remember how we got caught up in this inexplicable gravitational pull. The tip of his index finger ever so slightly brushing up against my thigh. Breaking the silence, he whispered that if things were different, he would throw me up against the wall, kiss my neck and take me right there on the hardwood floor. Even as I was feeling the pulsation of the thrill tingling through my body, I knew we’d never kiss. Gotta hand it to him, he did persevere against all temptation.
By the end of the session he asked a rather unexpected question: was I only intrigued by him because I couldn’t get what I wanted?
Maybe. It wasn’t the only reason. We had chemistry long before anything else happened. But it did play a part in the allure.
So why did I manoeuvre myself into such a ridiculously idiotic position?
His question got me to reflect on the last 72 hours. Two things struck me. For one, the fact that I kept pursuing him when I would’ve walked away from any other man long ago. I might have subconsciously tried to prove to myself that I was worthy of the attention of a man I was attracted to. Given the last one had dropped me like a hot potato. The sting of rejection still burning my ego.
And two, it wasn’t just his reserve I was testing. I was also testing mine. I appreciate that these things don’t just happen (and haven’t ever happened for me before either.) There was a desire for self-discovery involved in the decision-making. My whole life I’ve only ever been the good girlfriend. I’ve been single for all but 5 minutes since I was 18.
I was desperately curious to get a glimpse of who I might be if I had taken a different turn. And that day, however reckless it was, had offered me a window into a life unlived. A life in which he called me his muse and I surrendered my essence to the currents of the creative flow.
But as much as I enjoy breaking the rules every now and again, I’m not interested in destroying my future or my career. So when all of my alarm bells went off (and they did go off) I convinced myself that I had everything under control. All I really needed was for his level of self-sustenance to match mine. I decided, 72 hours was enough to trust him to be as discreet and prudent with my career as he claimed to be with his.
They say, if you play with fire, you eventually get burned. But they never mention how delusional it can be when you get away with it.
It took him 2 months to build enough trust to finally admit why he didn’t want to date. He was heartbroken over a woman who had ended things with him. When we met, they were still fiddling with some back and forth. A cute fling might have been a nice distraction, but with his desire to start a family, it’s ultimately not what he‘s looking for.
Instead, we’re now in the early days of what might just turn out to be a beautiful friendship — I regret nothing.
