First-person perspective

*I didn’t set out to write this so much as I sat down to write something, and things just sort of started flowing for me. So I thought, as much as possible, I’d leave this entry as a stream-of-consciousness format to show you what goes through a model’s head when he or she shows up for a gig. Enjoy!*

Okay, it’s 6:20 and I’m now just getting off the Metro. And now I gotta hike up that hugeass escalator. I do not like running late. At all. Even though I know I’ll still manage to be about 20 minutes early. I hate the very thought of being late for a new gig. I am soooooooo nervous. This is probably the most popular drawing group in DC. And I got the nod, me… an unknown quantity for them, to model for them. You take a big risk when you hire a new model. I’ve never blown it before, but I sure as shit hope I don’t blow it tonight. Hmm… that girl’s got a pad of drawing paper. And it looks like she’s walking in the same direction as I am. Hope she’s not expecting to draw someone with a chiseled chest and washboard abs.

All right, that big church-like building is probably the church. Yup, this is where I’m supposed to be. Great, I’m actually 30 minutes early! Wonder how many people are gonna be here tonight? I’m the only one here. Oh, maybe I’m not. I’ll ask that guy. Wonderful! I found the right entrance.

I’m pacing. I’m twiddling my thumbs. I’m trying not to act in the least bit nervous. Okay, there’s a few more people waiting. And they’re probably in their early 20s. Ugh. I feel soooooo old and out of shape now.

CREAK!

“Oh, hi, are you P? Great! I’m Jason, tonight’s model! Up the stairs to the top? Thanks!”

Clack, clack, clack. Welp, stairs don’t go up any more. Guess this is the place. Wow, it’s someone’s apartment. Pretty cool! The guy who confirmed that this was indeed the location cheerfully walks in with me and points out the drawing room. Oh my. This room is

Much
Much
Smaller

than the pictures I saw on their website. I think my living room’s about as big.

“Oh, no, I don’t need an easel or anything. I’m actually gonna be the guy up there,” I say to the guy as I point to the podium. Awesome! He didn’t barf in his mouth or anything!

I walk back out into the living room and try to look as distinguished as one can get for someone who’s about to be naked in about 15 minutes. Hmm, is that the woman who booked me? (Yes, I’m Jason. It’s so great to meet you! Hope I didn’t needle you with the jillion questions I emailed you over the week). Whew, she’s friendly! Not that I expected otherwise, but I’ve worked with one or two taciturn people before, and when you factor in the whole not wearing clothes thing, it can get intimidating.

She’s giving me the run of the place and shows me where I can get changed. (Yay, she said I was “prepared”!) I’m sweating bullets. Man, it’s hot out. I should have never worn a suit. Honestly, what was I thinking? It’s all coming off anyways.

10 minutes until kickoff. Time to get ready (oh good, the bathroom’s free!). Jesus, I never realized until today how long it takes to get a suit off. I am never wearing a suit if I know I have to model, ever again! Grr, why do I sweat so much? And it’s always along the eyebrows. I swear I’m gonna shave those fuckers off. We’ll see who sweats like a beer bottle now. But if I do that, it’s gonna look weird, so I probably gotta shave my head and douse myself in frankincense oil like some ancient Egyptian dude. All right, time to slide on the robe. Oops, gotta brush the hair! How do I look? Overweight and sweaty. And nervous.

Deep breath. Okay, let’s give ‘em what they came to see!

It’s only what, 30 feet from the bathroom to the podium? It’s so crowded that it feels like the male equivalent of the walk of shame. EVERYONE knows the bathrobe's coming off. Maybe that’s why I wore a suit, at least subconsciously. It’s like a suit of armor compared to the bathrobe, or bare flesh for that matter. Thank God they’re not looking at me. Yeah, they’re cool. They’re professionals. This is a walk in the park for them. So I’ll just chill by the podium for a bit. “Yeah, sure, I can wait for a few more minutes while people settle in.” What I wanted to say was “Yeah, sure, I’m scared shitless. Take all the time you need.”

Wow, I’m one of probably three people who could tell you what Betamax was, or actually tasted New Coke, or could recite the Big Mac song (two all-beef patties special sauce lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame seed bun!). And everyone’s in better shape than I am (can I run out and get a sledgehammer and knock the back wall out and add about another 20 feet of length to the room?).

Three 5-minute gestures? That’s not what you wife said. Better check. Hmm, looks like some people do want to do gestures. Yup, I’ll do 10 one-minute gestures!

Here’s where the magic begins. Here’s where I can never undo that fucking knot in less than 10 seconds. I swear, it’s not like I set out to tie a knot like I’m auditioning for the Coast Guard. *Awkward* This is totally, utterly surreal. There’s gotta be about 15 people in a room the size of my living room, most of whom are about 10 years younger than me, ALL of whom are in better shape, and it’s so packed, several are no more than two or three feet in front of me. And of course the ones I can practically reach out and touch are women. Why do I do this again?

Because it’s a zen kinda thing, as I finally free the knot, shed the robe, gently set it off to the side, and kick off my flip flops.

Damn! Even with the portable A/C clocking in at 68 degrees, I’m almost literally sweating my balls off, joy of joys. This is ridiculous. I’m the only person not wearing any clothes whatsoever, so why am I the only one who’s dying?

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m keepin’ the time in my head.” (Sweet, he seemed happy about that!). “Yup, got a timer for the longer poses too.” You learned your little lesson about forgetting your timer a few months ago, didn’t you? “15” minute pose my ass! Hell, I think my legs are still asleep from that one!

I like this podium. Not as hard as the ones at the art school, but not as soft as the ones at that other drawing group. Soft enough to be comfortable, but not soft enough to where I’m almost losing my balance. I can actually plant my feet down and do some strenuous poses without it feeling like I’m on one of those inflatable moonwalk thingies.

Break time! Damn, it feels so good to stretch out! Okay, I’m a bit nervous. Usually one or two people either compliment me or come up and ask me questions. (Oh shit! They hate me!) All right. Gotta suck it up. Another hour and a half and I’m a free man. Not everyone’s gonna love me. But I’m a professional, and I’ve got to finish the job.

Time passes. I’m really feeling my A-game today! I’m coming up with creative stuff and I feel like my poses are really, really steady. I know I’m my own worst critic, that even when I’ve been complimented on my statue-in-the-park ability, it feels like my muscles want me to buck like a bronco. But I’m pushing the envelope with some of my poses, and I’m holding steady. And my body’s finally adjusted to the room temperature. “Yeah, I can do a seated pose!” (Thanks for saying I’m tall!). “Do you want one long pose, or do you want another pose after the break?” (Okay, you’ll vote on it).

Ahhhhhhhh! So nice to sit down, and this chair’s really comfy. Love that they put a few pillows on it. Thanks for thinking of the model. You try sitting bare-assed on a metal stool for 20 minutes without moving and tell me how it feels. But this is nice! Time to get settled in, aaaaaaand we’re off! Uh oh… this particular pose with this particular cushioning is pressing on my sweet spot the exact same way it did that one other time. And Russell got a bit more animated than I would’ve liked him to. Granted, they didn’t say anything about it that one time (hell, they invited me back). Shit, they’ve already started drawing. Can’t adjust now. Welp, just have to hope for the best.

One hour left to go. Man, I could get used to these two-hour sessions. Start later, less work, it’s like modeling had an affair with French labor laws. This beats three-hour sessions hands down! Ugh, I’m getting that blurry thing going where half of my vision’s picking up the bright lights and the other half’s picking up the shading. Definitely gonna have to keep myself from nodding off. Don’t wanna fall asleep in the chair like last month (man, I’m glad I woke up before I fell over!)

Oh no. Nononononononono! I’m just dreaming. It’s not moving. It, it, it’s just the temperature change, that’s it! Yup, just gettin’ acclimated to the A/C kickin’ on. Doo dee doo dee doo! La la la la la la laAAAAAUUUUUUUUGH!

Fuck.

My.

Life!

Oh, god, they’re gonna think I’m some sort of horrible pervert! What the hell should I do! It’s not like I can break pose and look down and size up the damage *facepalm!* Half mast? Full banner? Damned if I know. All right, it’s the position, not my libido. I’ll just hold pose and if someone shits a brick, I’ll apologize. I’ve talked with other models about this before and, well, it just happens once in a blue moon. Everyone knows it can happen and it’s not a big deal and why oh why can’t I shut off my internal dialogue and why oh why won’t you just go away?!? FUCK! I bitch about how some models are so unprofessional they’ll expose themselves deliberately up on the podium. It’s a job. It’s not date night. Not cool! Am I a hypocrite or a victim? Okay, reality check. I’ve got my hands in front of me, and I’m sitting at an angle. No one can probably see anything anyway. Ahhh… I think this is about the 20-minute mark. Yup, the one where I lose all feeling from the waist down due to numbness and lack of circulation.

*Beep beep! Beep beep!*

Dear god, I am SORE! Damn it! Why the hell did I have to pick a checkerprint robe? I can never find which way’s up the first time! Okay, there we go. Mmm… time for some stretching and kneading of the muscles. This is so awkward. Everyone’s soooo close! I don’t like making eye contact because frankly it reeks of something some shitbag PUA would do, and this room is so small that I basically have to look aloof by staring up at the ceiling.

“Yup, I’m ready for the last pose? Did you all want the same pose or a different one? The same? Okay! Feel free to guide me if I didn’t get back into exactly the same position and you’re seeing something you don’t like.” Hmm… no one said anything. Cool. So tired. So very, very tired. My eyes are starting to lose focus, and that’s exactly when I start to feel sleepy. Only 20 more minutes. You can do this Jason!

*Beep beep! Beep beep!*

Okay, seriously? For once, I swear I will learn to stop fumbling with the damn robe! Well, time to go get dressed. Okay, first I swear I’m going to start bringing shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops to work so I can change into something more comfortable before I model. I hate getting back into a sweaty shirt and sweaty socks, I don’t care how many times I’ve done it. Okay, hair looks good, suit looks good. Do I have everything in my bag? Great. Anything left in the bathroom? Nope. Time to punch out and get paid.

Okay, I’m nervous. I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s not like they’re gonna charge me as I come out from the bathroom and give me a bouquet of flowers like I swept the Emmys or something. But they’re just sitting off to the side and making small talk. All right, time to do the whole eye contact thing. Are they happy? Are they unhappy? Do they want me back? Do they never want to see me again? Okay, this isn’t like my credit card statement where you just scroll down really quickly and hit the payment button.

“You got some REALLY great comments from the artists today!” she said.

(OMG really?!? Seriously?!? I mean, I know I gave it my all, but I was sooooo nervous!)

“Really? Why thank you! That really means a lot to me!” No bullshit. I’m totally flattered at this point!

“And we’ll definitely put you on the schedule for future sessions! We have a few openings in July, so I’ll send you an email tomorrow to see which day you want.”

Oh man! Not only did I pass the chemistry exam, I passed with flying colors, and got paid $50 in cold, hard cash. I gave it my all, and they wanted to have me back!

I can’t remember the journey home. I think I floated back. And I know I was definitely dancing to my iPod waiting for the Metro at Farragut West.