As I’ve mentioned before, I previously was in a long-term relationship. This relationship ended pretty badly, but we actually had to live together for about 5 months after its demise.
Now, for anyone who has seen the movie “The Break-Up,” you might think there would be room for some comedy. You are sorely mistaken. This was a very long five months. For me, it was basically filled with alcohol and bad decisions.
Fortunately for you all, bad decisions make great stories!
I was at my company Christmas luncheon and decided to partake in quite a few glasses of wine. The luncheon came to an end and I stayed out for a bit longer, but then made my way home. As I walked up to our apartment building, I noticed the lights were on and, in my drunken state, REALLY did not want to face my ex. I decided to go to a nearby bar to kill some time.
Did I mention I had already drank a fair share of wine?
I bellied up to the bar and began my journey to Black Out City. Okay, really that evening I did not black out, but I definitely came pretty close. I begin talking to another bar patron. He was most definitely foreign, but I cannot remember now which country he was originally from. Thankfully, I read people pretty well, and this man was very nice and had an interesting life story. I mean, he even left with me after I got kicked out of the bar! (Apparently I was “flirting” with the bartender’s boyfriend. And apparently my sassy responses to her bitchiness were not welcome. Did she NOT see that I was also talking to Ricardo???)
For whatever reason, he decided to take me to his place of business. Which was some sort of printing company? Again, the details are all pretty hazy. Either way, anyone reading this knows it was not normal.
All I know is that I got into a strange man’s car, and he took me to a deserted warehouse area, which was ample opportunity to torture and kill me.
Instead, we did a photo shoot. Don’t get any ideas, I was fully clothed. But I do recall jumping up from under desks, rolling around on chairs and hiding behind other inanimate objects. For those who know me well, I am definitely not a model in ANY sense of the word.
I sometimes reflect on that night and think A) I’m so friggin’ stupid and B) I wonder if those pictures turned out well?
Moral of the Story:
Don’t get into a strange person’s car regardless of how bad you want to avoid seeing your live-in ex-boyfriend. And definitely don’t have him take different action shots of you jumping from desk to desk. That is, unless you receive said pictures and use them to bolster your burgeoning modeling career.
For any agents reading this who are looking for “curvy,” alcoholic, midget types…call me!