A Portrait of the Artist as a Crazy Man

Submitted by Laura:

Jake was a photographer I had crossed paths with a few times while working at an ad agency.  He was good at what he did, and showed me his portfolio, which was impressive.  From the topic of photography, we moved on to discussing each other, and professional involvement led to personal interest.

We would call each other back and forth for a few weeks, and he asked me out on a date.

At dinner, I couldn't help but notice that he had lugged a large amount of photography equipment with him.  I asked him if he had just come from a shoot.

"No," he informed me, "I was hoping to take your picture.  After dinner."

It was a little off-putting, but I told him that as long as it remained clean, I wouldn't mind, as long as he'd provide me with copies of any photos that he took.  He agreed, and the rest of dinner went mostly well.

We took a walk at sundown in a park by the Hudson River.  He set up his equipment and went to work.  He told me to "act natural," but also gave me a few tips here and there: "Tilt your head up," "Smile," "Look this way," etc.

It was pretty fun for a little bit, but soon I became tired.  We had been at it for almost an hour, and the sun was well set by then.  I asked him if we could do something else, or if he wanted to head out, seeing as wherever we went, he'd have to carry all of his equipment.

I'm not sure what went wrong, but he must have completely misunderstood something that I said.  All of a sudden, he came up close to me and began talking really fast and really low:

"I'd love to take pictures of you with your clothes off.  I mean, not right here, but if could go back to your place and you could just take off your clothes, I'd give you any photos I took and I'd pay you however you wanted to be paid, although I excel at physical payments, if you catch my drift.  If you catch my drift.  Do you catch my drift?  All it would be would be five minutes, that's all."

I stepped away and told him, "I don't think so."

He looked down and said, "It would only be five minutes.  Just five minutes.  Just five minutes," as if how much time it would take was the only thing I objected to.

I stepped away again and said, "Listen, I had a nice time.  Let's just... I'll maybe see you around?"

I walked off, and after me, he called, "Just five minutes!  Just five minutes!  Fuck!"

Five minutes later, I was on the subway and as far as possible from him.


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And what happened after?