The Mortal and the Models

I have recently found myself in a friendship with a model.

A real, life, MODEL.

A male model.

One who is at least seven feet tall with mocha-cream skin and chiseled good looks.  He once posed as an alligator coming out of a lagoon and made it sexy.

Lucky for the Engineer, he is also a raging homosexual.  Is that offensive?

This said model is also in New York right now - except he has rented a two-floor apartment in Greenwich Village and I continue to live with a slanted floor and a cockroach named Mickey in Brooklyn.

First thing first:  this male model might also be the nicest person I have ever met.  Super genuine and sweet. Really down to earth (mostly).  He just happens to be uber gorgeous.

Models tend to hang out with other models.  So when he invited me to come over to his apartment for a wine and cheese night I should have either (a) said no thank you or (b) ran to the nearest salon for a blow-out and false eyelashes.

I did neither.  I showed up sweaty with Mr. Mop in tow.

Male Model was sharing the apartment with Female Model/Actress who is so pretty you can't take your eyes off of her. All willowy and big eyes.  You sort of want to hit her and kiss her at the same time.

And again, super nice.

Then came in two more models.  Then another.  Well, I don't know if they were all models but they looked like models.  I think I could grate cheese on all of their torsos.

I know I am cute. I am a pretty girl.  But I AM NOT A MODEL.

And nothing will make you feel less like a model than sitting in a Manhattan backyard with models.

#.  Their hair doesn't frizz in the crazy humidity.  Why?  WHY DOESN'T THEIR HAIR FRIZZ?  I have to pull mine up and back just to control it!!  Is there a secret model gene in their hair that makes it look effortlessly pretty and messy in that super annoying 'i just rolled out of bed' look??

#2.  They can eat and drink in a dainty way that suggests that they get to eat whatever they want and look hot while doing it. I dropped cheese on myself.

#3.  They don't seem to sweat or even get the teeniest glisten above their lip in the New York heat.  It's freaking 40 degrees Celcius!!  I have sweat dripping down my elbows, my cankles and between the roll of my belly button and hip.  I literally slid out of a cab the other day.  I am not lying.  I actually slid right out onto the NYC pavement.  Leaving a pool of sweat on the seat.  I am sooooooooo hot and not in the hot model way.

#4.  They all know how to pose for photographs.  I thought I posed well. I think I always look nice in photos.  But I am a trained sorority girl poser.  Chest out, mouth wide, head titled.  This is not  the way of Versace.  I was given a lesson in model pose.  Chest in, chin out and look as though you are in a shower.

Ummmmmm?  What?  All I have to say is when I am in the shower I am rubbing off last night's mascara and often have my mouth open.

#5.  They will make you realize that modeling is actually hard work.  See #4

#6.  They will be really nice that you can't hate them just because they are beautiful.

The lesson here?  Don't judge a model by their beauty.  Just don't take photographs with them.