Of course, you don’t. So I’m a fashion and event photographer with my own business, and a few months ago I had to drive from LA to Denver to do the annual Beerfest for Yard House Restaurants. I’m a mellow guy I don’t even drink beer, and there I was schlepping a ten by ten portable photo booth, the lights, the cameras, the computers, my assistant David who’s been a friend for fourteen years, and we’re two Jewish guys, surrounded by 10,000 drunken, granola bar shiksas, who were either neo-hippies or neo-Nazis. It was hard to tell, and they were all over us. They wanted us, their hands were busy, and their mouths were landing in places we hadn’t yet certified kosher. But how much could either of us want a woman who reeked of beer and was wearing a cheese and pretzel necklace, complimented by a two-foot, cloth, beer-stein cap set on fake milk maid braids? For this we drove through the Old West on winding mountain roads, over rushing rivers, and through deserts to get to Denver? Well, it’s a tough job, but somebody had to do it.
My problem is that lots of women really like me, not just beautiful drunks, but also some wonderful but mixed-up women. Because I’m a successful man, quite handsome, with an interesting money-making business in such a down economy, and I’m a great listener and appreciator of women, my phone rings so much that the battery dies every day from overuse. I have women texting me at four in the morning after they’ve been with rotten dates, pleading with me for wisdom. That’s okay I do have a big heart. But it’s not getting me where I want to be. I’m looking for someone to cherish. I want someone who is as nice-looking and fashion aware as I am, as educated as I am, who cares about other people, politics, and the environment. Corny as this may sound, I want a woman who loves Judaism, who is spiritual, and who isn’t looking for Christian Grey. In other words, if you are sweet, smart, and spiritual, send me a message, but please no nude photos.