we just happen to have a photographer that works for us who just happens to have my last name. we are in no way related. he is a good fifty years older than me, wears contrasting tropical prints, sends "treats," and is particularly fond of Stand At The Back Of the Room So You Can Get A Photo Of The Back Of Everyone's Head shots. we have little in common excepting a last name.
on the damn phone the other day, a co-worker with whom i was trying to arrange a photo shoot inquired: "but will your husband be there?"
for a moment i panicked. we've known each for three years and she thinks i'm married? she's thought all this time that i got hitched to the iodot? she's been silently judging me the past thirteen months for moving to chicago alone?
then i realized. no. she thinks i'm a girl who would marry an elderly man who wears contrasting tropical prints.