The other day I stopped by my local photo shop , USB key in hand, happy at the prospect of printing a very cute picture of my husband’s granddaughters. I was well aware of the fact that on that key, there were many other photos that I wouldn’t really want to share with too many people. Although then again, I really have shared them more than anyone could consider appropriate, but that can be a different story. This idea gave me a snide feeling. Like wearing no panties. This was my Dirty Little Secret du jour. I enjoy giving myself a cheap thrill every now and then. Scaring the shit out of myself really. At the same time, it was a very calculated risk. On my computer at home, when I use this storage device, everything is neatly arranged in folders and you have to open one to see what is hidden inside. I left the adorable children photo out, so I was not really too sweaty-palmed about the whole deal, just a little bit invigorated by the thought of the second-generation photographer guy I have known for nearly twenty years now being so close but yet so far from seeing some fairly shocking images. This is of course depends on your definition of shocking.
Until he saw them. They were just reeling by in front of my bewildered eyes, like the deer in your headlights.. And his. Quite a bit less bewildered. I felt a bit faint but I pulled it off with a friendly elbow in his ribs and a “Vive la photo numérique!” He reassured me that he sees these kind of photos everyday…it was difficult in the pornographic mess to find my very sweet step-grandchildren but finally their angelic faces appeared, the photo was printed for merely .50 centimes and I continued my sometimes dangerous life.
Although all of this may be relatively entertaining in itself, it is not the root of my story. It’s just pretense. My story is more about those images, about how a women from a middle-class, church-going family…a married women as well, how she (I) have built up such an interesting specimen of human sexuality. There are various examples of my own sexuality, there are some of miscellaneous computer lovers but not many. I don’t usually save revealing photos of other people, unless there is something really extraordinarily beautiful about them. I am not keen on the idea of getting anyone into trouble. You never know what can happen. I usually figure it’s best to delete, delete, delete. Lastly but most importantly, there are about 50 photos of my husband with a Ukrainian (bitch) he was in love with for what seemed like an eternity to me but was more like six months in real life. I think that will be the topic of my next story. Maybe it will be refreshing to get that off my chest and although it’s quite a banal story-line, it’s a pretty interesting story.