These pictures deserve their own post, if only to show the progression of my photography relationship with Caitlin.
The first photos Cait and I took were just about two years ago at this point. We were a set-up friendship, and had never met in real life so our first encounter was when I showed up in LA ready to look for apartments.
Cait, of course, documented the whole thing. She has no qualms about taking pictures, asking people to take pictures, forcing you to take pictures even when you say, “no thank you,” in your most polite tones.
No qualms whatsoever.
As a result, we have dozens and dozens of horrifying photos from that first weekend together.
I’m not exaggerating when I say these were the worst pictures of my youngish life.
For one thing I was wearing a hat. This was during the black-out three days of my life I thought hats and I could work out, and now it’s recorded for all of eternity because Caitlin doesn’t get rid of pictures, she just uses them as blackmail later.
I know, kids. Look at how weird your mother was.
For another thing, the pictures were just…bad. The body language. The angles. We didn’t know what to do with each other both in the photos and in life. You could tell she was thinking, “Who is the weirdo in the hat?” and I was thinking, “Who is this weirdo in a hat?” and maybe it was the hat that caused all of the problems.
But probably not.
We took some getting used to, me and Cait. It took time for us to learn each other’s angles, if you will.
And so these recent pictures, these happy, effortless photos at Caitlin’s graduation, well, they mean quite a bit to me. They show how far we’ve come. They show how well we know each other.
I believe “ease in pictures together” is a significant marker in any relationship.
I just thought of that this instant, but I’m sticking to it.
More on this theory later!
There was a moment during Caitlin’s graduation where her mother turned to me and said, “Aren’t you so glad Cait didn’t go to USC?”
She continued, “You know, Cait called me when she started school and she said, ‘This roommate, Mom. It was meant to be. Pepperdine was meant to be.’”
At that point I full-on teared up. I watched Cait’s long blonde hair bouncing up and down in the ocean breeze and all I wanted was to go back to our little unfurnished Malibu apartment and start these two years over. Do them again and do them right and change almost nothing.
Except maybe document them more.
I know, kids. Look what a sap your mom was.