How I Met Another
It had been another late night at “work” when I stumbled in the door. There she was in a 5 Million Dollar bathrobe sitting at the kitchen table with a well used glass and a half empty bottle of our best Scotch in front of her. She didn’t even need to say anything…just the look on her face sent a dagger to my gut. I took off my coat without a word and kicked off my shoes then reached into the cabinet for my own glass and joined her. This was going to suck big time but it had been a long time coming.
I poured myself a tall one and perched nervously on the edge of my chair. I tried charm first. Putting on a goofy grin, “How was your day honey?”
No response. Instead she reached over to the bookshelf and tossed a handful of negatives on the table. “I found these on the bedroom floor” she hissed. I took a hurried swallow of spirits, this was the moment I had been dreading and there was no turning back now.
“Hey what do you know?” I croaked weakly. “Wonder how those got there…”
“Yeah, I wonder.” The statement lay there like a cold wet blanket. I looked away and rubbed my jaw.
“So,” she said icily, “since I haven’t used these in years it looks like someone has some explaining to do.”
She was beautiful when she was angry, heck she was gorgeous in any mood. Lately though it seemed as if we’d been drifting apart and even those good looks were no longer enough. Oh we’d made a long hard run of it, two years or so of uninhibited bliss as we traveled together on a joyous journey of mutual discovery. But this summer had been different and suddenly it seemed as if everything was about to change. Better to lay it all out and come clean with the truth.
“Canon, you know I love you darling. We’ve been so good together.”
God knows that much was true, but what the hell was I thinking now? I had been dating her younger sister Rebel for a few months but found her too inexperienced. Her sister 5DmkII was a big heavy girl but I fell for her sophisticated charms the moment I met her. And that first year had been something hadn’t it? We’d done it everywhere: in my car, in her west side apartment, on vacation in Paris, during the day, during the night, everywhere and anywhere, it didn’t matter because we were in love. She was a rich girl who had all the fancy L Glass and there wasn’t a lighting situation she couldn’t handle. She had incredible stamina, like no one I’d met before. I’d never forget the evening at the hotrod show, 651 actuations!!! I’d wished the Guinness people had been there that night because it must have been some kind of record. Yes, we had made so many beautiful pictures together. But now life was moving on.
She leaned forward and said in a small voice, “I just want to know…is she…is she…BETTER than me?” Her face was drawn and a single tear ran down from her viewfinder. Oh no, I’d hurt her F stops and made her cry. This was going as badly as I had imagined.
“No, no it’s nothing like that,” I lied. “It’s just different that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with you Canon, it’s me. It’s all my fault.”
At least that last part was true, it WAS my fault. I’m the one who had insisted that we spend the weekend at Randy’s beach house early that summer and that’s when we both met her. Holga was a cute little number and so easy to be around. One evening we’d all had a bit too much to drink and one thing lead to another. I found myself in the sack with both Canon and little Holga who Randy had thoughtfully outfitted with an EOS adapter. Canon had certainly enjoyed herself plenty that night although she did complain briefly about the slow manual focus. And later she’d made a snide remark about anatomy saying that Holga seemed a bit too “plastic” to her.
But what could I say, that was the night my heart went out to another. I loved Holga’s light weight, her dreamy off color manners and quirky ways. So many times she had disappointed me but during those days when the stars did choose to align, her flare for life came through and it was pure magic. And then there were the rest of her friends: the artsy Russian girls, Diana the Huntress, the crazy Spinner, that wacky Sprocket Chick, the Action twins, all of them were wild swingers. Oh what a welcome blast of fresh air they all were. These were cameras that knew how to party, none of this prim and proper perfection and none of them were high maintenance. Sure, getting consistent results with them was hard, but I’d met bigger adversity in my life and I had always managed to muddle through, even flourish. This time would be no different.
“Canon, I don’t want this to be over, after all we still have our Lensbabies together. But I just have to see other cameras right now, it’s something I have to do in my life.” I downed the rest of my glass in a single gulp and waited for her to respond.
Her lips didn’t move but they didn’t need to, her eyes said it all. Then she spoke.
“Alright mister, since your mind is made up. You can have visitation rights for the Lensbabies every other weekend. Just don’t expect me to be at your beck and call anytime you want me.”
Inwardly I heaved a sigh of relief that this monster would be off my neck and the little Lomos could be all mine at last. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of our lives.
“Canon, darling, we’ll always have Paris.”
That’s when she decked me.