the photographer

it is sunday in september, and i am online looking at pictures, searching for inspiration. i forget that i am also logged in still in a san diego chat room. why i am here is not all that fascinating. i miss san diego, and i wonder what kind of people are chatting this afternoon.

a messenger window pops open and startles me.

"hey, woman...you find your mystery?"

and that is how it starts with roben. i check his profile and find a picture of a dashing man, unlike the boys who usually message me. he is gorgeous, and i wonder if he is a model.

our first chatversation is very fluid. we cover the span of topics of work, play, dreams, marital status. he does what i wish i could do for a living. he directs me to his website. his images are just amazing. and i gush about them to him. and i cannot help but tell him how beautiful he is.

we do this chat thing a few nights a week. when he is on, i am at peace. when he isnt on, i am restless until he comes on. i fall in love with him based on his wit, his intelligence, and his need to evade and duck questions and topics. his secrets are sexy to me, and i want to know them all. oh, and his picture isnt bad either.

i make my vow of celibacy, partly because of him. i vainly think that he will want to consummate this online relationship when i make a pilgrimage to san diego after an acceptable time of getting to know each other. i want to wait for him, to be with him, to make love to him.

of course, this isnt meant to be. the too much work...not enough payoff...equals boring comment is the death of me. right now, he has me banished in purgatory, and it is cold and lonely here.

he is in the military, but his career will end in april. he will have been there for 20 years. he tells me he will visit all the amsterdam coffee houses when he is finished with the navy.

ive searched my mind what it is about this man that captivates me. and the findings are simple.

one, he is an amazing photographer. his images make me stop and think about his talent; how he gets these snapshots of stories that i am interested in. i ask him once if his talent is God-given or if it is natural. he tells me that it is hard work and that he works too hard sometimes. he is accomplished and recognized, awards and all. and the thing is, he is driven to be better. there is nothing sexier than that.

second, he is witty. he makes me laugh, and he takes me on roads less travelled. he is never sexual, nor am i. but there is a sexiness about him, which makes me feel sexy.

third, he is gorgeous. not just in the face, but his talent, his wit, his mystery combine to make this beautiful man more gorgeous. i see all that in my minds eye, and for now, i am satisfied.

fourth, he is my inspiration. i check his webpage for ideas. i google him, and find other sites that have his photos and pore through those images as well. but my favorites remain those on his personal website.

finally, he is roben. he is a statement. i want to know everything about him, but there are top things on my mind that need to be satisfied right now.

i know he is just a figment of my imagination, and he is a twister that ive been chasing for the last three months. he doesnt exist until i turn on my computer. i have him on a pedestal, and if and when we meet, he will probably fall because my expectations wont be met.

but i dont care. he affects me inexplicably, and i need that right now. i have no grandiose plans of meeting him. those went out the window a long time ago.

however, if he offered me a drink, i would take it. i would get drunk on his presence, his words, his smile. i would drown in his kisses, his sweat, his licks. i would meet him, keep my heart out of it, and do everything he wants to do.

then i would leave. i wouldnt want more. see, i dont get obsessed with people, just the idea of them. i recognize this about me, and i know that everything for me is an exercise in mental fucking. and this is one photographer that i want to fuck...mentally or otherwise.