In 1998, I met a woman at synagogue. We started talking. I found her attractive, smart and accomplished. She had a PhD. She’d dated this rabbi I admired.
I started going out with this woman. After a few dates, I brought her over to my apartment. It was around September.
I showed her my website on Dennis Prager. As she read it, she started crying. “This is how you write about someone you love?” she said.
I felt strange. I thought my writing was funny.
We lay down. The neighbors were yelling. “You’ve got to get out of here,” said the woman. “You’ve got to move.”
A few days later, we hung out at the pool. It was the first time I saw her legs. They were flabby. There were no muscles. They were a big turn-off to me.
I decided to break up.
Despite my decision, or perhaps because of it, I started questioning her intensely about her life.
She’d set a rule for me, no photographing naked women for my website lukeford.com. No topless shots. No nudity.
So after I decided to break up with her, I went on a set and shot some topless photos and posted them on my website.
She called me that evening. “I guess you’ve made your decision,” she said. I agreed.
She was confused. Why had I questioned her so intensely if I was breaking up with her?
She went on to a long relationship with a friend. He later told me it was the relationship from hell.
