When I was a child in the seventies I saw a movie with my father that involved some sort of hijacking or commandeering of a sea ship. I cannot for the life of me recall the movie or who was in it, but I have the vague recollection of a beautiful woman with dark eyes and long dark hair who was part of, or leader of the group of pirates or hijackers or whatever they were. I was enthralled and entranced by the woman, the woman with dark eyes and long dark hair. She intrigued and captivated me for some odd reason, despite her nefarious nature, and I was surprised, no, stunned when in a battle to retake the ship a grenade was thrown into the room, blowing her to kingdom come. Through the smoke and debris the only thing that remained to identify her was the ring she had been seen wearing throughout the film, lying on the floor with nothing else but blood around it. Later on when playing with my friends and recreating stories we’d seen or made up on the spot, I often chose one of the girls to play the “Brunette”, the only way I knew to describe the woman whose name I could not recall. Now I don’t know if the early impression that character had on me has anything to do with the story I am about to tell you, but I’ll leave that analyzation up to you.
All through my teens I had always had a thing for Latin women and women of semi-dark complexion. Olive skin, dark eyes, dark hair, and dark mystique…mix it all together and the results make up the style of girl that made me weak in the knees and took my breath away. Whether they were Puerto Rican, Mexican, Venezuelan, or anything similar, they always found much favor in my eyes and interests.
When I was 21 I went to college for professional photography, and found that while I loved many of the photographic art forms, shooting women in fashion and especially glamour photography was what I enjoyed most. I needed models often to pose for me, for my college projects, for the fun of it and the money I sometimes made at it, so I was often on the lookout for beautiful women with the interest in modeling and the confidence to do it well. I approached many women I saw, both in my school, in stores, and even on the street, and without fear or hesitation asked them if they’d done any modeling, and if so or of not would they be interested in posing for me in exchange for copies for their own portfolios. You would be amazed by how many women said yes and gave me their numbers. Out of every 4 women I spoke to, one was a model already and wanted to add to her portfolio, one wanted to be a model and needed to build a portfolio, one didn’t want to be a model but wanted to see how she'd look, and one had no interest whatsoever. So, 3 out of every 4 girls resulted in a long list of phone numbers of potential models whenever I had a project or an idea. Trouble was, between their schedules and mine, I literally didn’t have enough time or ability to model most of them, and there were many I missed who I had great ideas for, but not the means to get it done before I graduated. It was amazing to me how bold I was to go up to any gorgeous woman, even those alongside their friends or husbands, and gain their interest in adding to my portfolio. It was also quite surprising how many of them felt completely comfortable with me, even to take me in their apartments and let me choose clothes from their closets for them to shoot with, and even undress and try them on right in front of me. Yeah…I was 21, 22, and then 23, young, thin, and fun, and apparently non-threatening and anything but creepy. Some of those girls I became friends with, some I later dated, and some I stay in touch with to this day. And I had the guts to approach any of them, any women, no matter how beautiful or mysterious. Except for her; yes, her--that girl.
I was 21 when I saw her for the first time. I think she was 19 at the time, that Brazilian beauty. She had creamy olive skin, long dark hair, dark eyes, and an intriguing nature that brightened the halls she walked down. That girl, she was it. She had an exotic appearance, what I called a fierce beauty, in a Mila Kunis, Adriana Lima, or Stacey Dash sort of way. She was all that, and she captured my gaze every time I saw her. I wanted to photograph her so badly, I wanted to meet her and get to know her and work with her creatively and artistically--and be friends with her, and hopefully more; yes, much more. But despite how I ended the prior paragraph, I didn’t have the guts to approach her, to attempt to as much as say hello to her. She was just so damned captivating and enthralling to me I feared being dismissed by her, being overlooked by her, being spurned by her. She could pose for any of the school’s student photographers, some who were better than I; why would she waste her time in front of my camera? God what I coward I’d suddenly become!
One day I was eating lunch at a table outside the school café when I looked about 4 tables down and sighed. There she was, the olive skinned girl with long dark hair, sitting with some of her girlfriends, two of whom I vaguely knew from early in the school term when I had taken some impromptu shots of them posing for me during the end of the quarter college picnic. They were in fashion design or something similar but I didn’t have any way of knowing what course she was taking, that girl. I thought about how much I wanted to meet her, to talk to her and gain her interest in posing for me and perhaps more, though I knew I did not have the courage to make such a suggestion to her.
Suddenly she was walking toward me; all of a sudden she sat down and introduced herself. While I had had the nerve to approach any beauty in the college except for her, she already knew who I was; she’d already seen the photos I’d taken of various friends and she had wanted me to photograph her as well! Who knew it would have been that easy???
I think I’ll call her Nadja. It wasn’t her name, but that’s what I’ll call her. Nadja was always busy with school projects and assignments and so was I. We talked many times through the rest of our respective school terms, chatted in the halls, on the phone every so often, at a party at her apartment, other friends’ parties, etc., but aside from occasional photos I took of her at various occasions, we somehow, sadly, never managed to get together in the studio; the ideas and projects we talked about doing together never found enough time to reach fulfillment.
There was another girl I knew in college who I was friends with. Her name, let’s say, was Ana. Ana was another Brazilian beauty, and had a pair of the most lovely and striking eyes I had seen, a fact that many of my friends, even today looking back, agreed with. Ana, BTW, was Nadja’s cousin; something I hadn’t realized over the months I’d known her before finally meeting Nadja. My friend Phil (not his real name), a fellow photography student, had a thing for Ana’s captivating eyes and for the rest of her as well, but like me with Nadja, was always too shy to try to meet her. For the longest time he had mentioned how incredible that girl was, the girl with the mesmerizing eyes; he was as obsessed with her beauty as I was for Nadja’s. One day I asked Phil to be my lighting assistant in the studio, something we did for each other often, and told him about the model who would be meeting me there while he and I set up the lights and equipment. Her name, I told him, was "Joanne Aereola", a name I was amused to find he did not take note of. Several times I told him, even as Joanne was apparently late getting there, that he was going to be surprised when he met my model. My buddy Phil—ya gotta love ‘im—he never caught on. Then my model arrived and walked in and Phil’s eyes and mouth dropped open in surprise and delight as he realized how I’d set him up. It was after all, as you’ve surely guessed, none other than Ana.
That night in the studio was great fun, and rewarding, and one of the head shots of Ana became the one shot that sat at the top of my portfolio for years to come. But did Phil make a move to spend quality time with Ana after that, or even bring her into the studio afterwards for his own portfolio? No, he was apparently still too quiet and reserved to go in that direction, even though she had been uber friendly and accepting of his contributions and conversation that night in the studio. What a knucklehead he was. Like me.
And so, more than twenty years go by...
A couple of years back I friended Ana on Facebook and we talk from time to time on my other profile. I also found Nadja and sent her a request, but she ignored it. I remember a night back in the 90’s after we all graduated when I ran into Ana and her mother and Ana asked me if I had kept in touch with Nadja, and passed a witty comment to her mom about me having had a thing for Nadja—something that had been obvious by my attention to her back in college. Now on Facebook she hadn’t responded and appeared content to avoid my friend request. Maybe she thought I was stalking her after all those years? I removed my request and resigned myself to the acceptance that she did not share the need to reconnect. But sometime after I deleted my friend request, she sent me her own request, which I accepted. Had she changed her mind due to my refound friendship with her cousin? I couldn’t tell you but I think it’s probable. What a life she lives now. Not quite 19 anymore but ever still very beautiful. Husband, children, a close family, vacations around the world, speaking in front of people at events and openings, posing with mayors, a successful career running an art school that inspires and nurtures creativity in children; how can I not be impressed? This gal from college has it all.
Jealous much, inSpireShine? No, but I’d be lying if I hadn’t looked back at her as the one that got away. She made all the right moves in her life, but I had been too nervous to make the right move back when I may have had a chance. Just like Phil after me with Ana. Okay…so I’m jealous. So sue me. To be honest, we talked at first but she was such a busy person we barely conversed other than some photo and status comments, and then didn’t interact for a long time.
She does not have me on her page anymore but honestly, that is okay by me. When I feared asking her out back in college I had thought she was too far out of my league to wish for. I was just glad before she deleted me, that she had never asked me what I was doing with my life now. Back when I was too nervous to approach her in college, she sought me out instead and walked right up to me. Back when Phil was too nervous to approach Ana, I paved the way and led her right to him. Opportunity made its way to me, but I made excuses. Possibility found its way to Phil, but he overlooked it.
Take care not to make the same mistakes, and don’t limit yourself to what leagues you can aspire to.
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