A long time ago I met this woman. Her picture – this photo – is all over the internet now, but then it was just the photo on her profile. She wanted to meet me because of some things I’d written about bdsm, so I met her in a bar I liked. It had stuffed, mounted animals on the walls, and various African bits and pieces strewn about. I waited, with a couple of glasses of Janz. 

She turned out to be beautiful. She has a lovely neck, as you can see, but there’s a pretty face on the other side of that photo.

But I disappointed her. It wasn’t a good time for me, just then, and I didn’t have my usual ease or confidence, or smell warm, and I wasn’t looking my best. So we talked for a while, and then she said she’d think about whether we’d meet again and do bdsm things together. A couple of days later she emailed me to tell me what I already knew, which was that she wouldn’t start a bdsm relationship with me. 

I replied to say that was fine, that it had been a pleasure to meet her, and that I wished her well.

A few months later, I noticed that someone else had stolen her picture, and was using it in her own profile. I considered alerting her, but I’d told her she wouldn’t hear from me again if she decided not to get involved, and I decided to stick with that.

Now that picture is everywhere. I won’t say anything more about the real woman in that photo, as she was back then. I don’t know anything about her now: I don’t even know if she’s still involved in bdsm.

But her photo is. It’s taken on a life of its own.