fic: What Your Photo Online Gets You
notes: inspired by Last Night at the Met and Humans of New York. also i hate the title but i usually do.
Danny wasn't expecting much more from Saturday night than a nice dinner and an elaborate production of Aida, but in addition to that, he and Lily end up having their picture taken for the Metropolitan Opera's style blog. Of course he thinks Lily looks astonishing and beautiful, but he always does, but he wouldn't have thought the two of them together were necessarily style-blog-worthy. Especially at the Met, where there seem to be a lot of people in nice clothes. He's wearing his dark gray pinstripe suit, with a maroon shirt and a vintage yellow silk tie, and Lily is dressed in tapered navy pants, a military-style fitted frock coat with gold braid on the shoulders and gold buttons on the cuffs, and red spike-heeled pumps. Her hair is in a ponytail with a purely decorative rhinestone butterfly clip in the back, just over the swatch of hair wrapped around the elastic to hide it.
The woman who takes their photo is a complete professional, and a week later, when Danny finally remembers to find the blog, he's amazed at how good she made them look. Well, he's amazed at how good she made him look, anyway. He shares the link to the blog with pretty much everyone he knows, including his coworkers. It seems like good advertising for the shop to have one of its salesmen photographed at the Met in one of its three-piece suits.
The day after he proves to everyone he knows that he really was photographed for the Met's style blog, he and Lily are walking her dog along Riverside Drive when they're stopped again by someone who wants to take their picture, this time a male photographer with a blog. And again, Danny wonders what's so interesting about them to an outsider, to someone who doesn't know them. He's just wearing jeans and his black Chucks and an old LL Bean barn jacket he found at a secondhand store, and Lily is in rust-red pants and a cream-colored fisherman's sweater. Maybe the guy thinks the dog is cute, because she's certainly interested in him.
He wants to know something about them, besides whether or not they'll let him put them on his blog. He doesn't seem at all fazed that they're a couple.
“What do you love about him?” he asks Lily, curious more than judgemental.
“The way he looks at me,” she says.
“What do you love about her?” he asks Danny.
How much time do you have? Danny thinks, but all he says is “Everything.”
And in a few days, when he looks up that blog as well, that's the exact caption under his and Lily's picture.
He calls to tell her, and she tells him in exchange that she heard from one of her friends who saw the photo on the Met's blog, and the friend thinks Danny is a hired escort.
“She said what?” he repeats, disbelief making his voice sharp.
“Isn't that funny?” Lily says. “What a ridiculous thing to say.”
“She thinks I'm a male escort? A, a, a date for hire? A - “
“I told her the truth, don't worry.” Her voice is calm and amused. Danny doesn't think it's funny.
“She thinks you paid for me!”
“I did buy you dinner.”
“That's not what I meant! Oh my god.” Does he look like a male escort? What do they even look like? He knows they exist - they have to, since female escorts do, and older ladies have needs too - but he certainly doesn't know any, and he doesn't think he'd be able to tell which young men at any given social function were there because their older female companions were paying for their company.
Is that the only reason why this friend thinks Lily might be out with a younger man? Because she'd called an agency and ordered one? Does she not understand that he was with Lily at the opera because he loves her?
“I told everyone about that picture,” he says. “I shared the link on Facebook.”
“I know.”
“Total strangers are going to think I was only with you for the money!”
“How many total strangers see your Facebook?”
“It's not just that. It's the blog. Total strangers see that.”
“You shouldn't care what they think.”
She's right. He shouldn't. And normally he doesn't. What does it matter what some rando looking at nice clothes on the internet thinks about his and Lily's relationship? People on his Facebook feed know he's not an escort.
...Could he be? Does he have the right look? Is he personable and charming enough? If Lily was any woman in her sixties who wanted a nice young man to accompany her to the opera or the ballet or any one of a number of functions, would he fit the bill? Is he good enough in bed to please an older woman?
Well, an older woman who doesn't know him, anyway.
And why is he thinking about this? It's not as if escorting is something he'd ever do.
“You're very quiet,” Lily says. “I shouldn't have told you.”
“No, it's ok. It's just... it's weird. It means someone doesn't think there's any reason for us to be together unless you pay me. She thinks I'm with you for the money.”
“Just for that one night.”
“Lily!”
“I'm sorry, I know you don't think it's as funny as I do. I don't care what people think about me, Danny. If Annette Montrose wants to believe I'd hire an escort to take me to Aida, let her think that. All she knows is that I was photographed at the Met with an attractive young man in a good suit. That's it. Let her make up stories if it makes her happy.”
“It doesn't make me happy. I want people to know I'm not with you for your money, and I'm not with you because you, you ordered me. It's not a business transaction.”
“I know, honey. I know. I laughed at her and told her the truth, and if she doesn't want to believe me, that's her problem.”
“Will she tell your other friends?”
“She might. No one whose friendship really matters to me is going to listen to her. My good friends know the truth, and as for my acquaintences, I no longer care what they think of me.”
Danny can practically hear her shrug in dismissal. He tries to shrug it off as well, but it bothers him because he knows the truth, and because there's a person out there who doesn't believe someone like him and someone like Lily could ever be in love. And if there's one person, there could be more.
He's not easily offended, but he thinks this might be offensive.
“Do you want to see a movie tomorrow night?” Lily asks, changing the subject. “I was meeting a friend for dinner but she had to cancel. You can take me out on a date.”
“Can I tell total strangers I'm your boyfriend and not your paid escort for the night?”
She laughs. “You can tell total strangers anything you want. You can tell them you're my dog walker or my peony supplier. You can tell them you're my favorite person to be photographed with.”
“Am I?”
She laughs again. “Of course you are, Danny. If we're lucky we'll run into someone else interested in street fashion, and get our pictures online somewhere else.”
They don't. No one even looks at them funny, and Danny doesn't get the chance to tell anyone that they're on a date, like a real date that boyfriends and girlfriends go on, and no money changed hands, and can't two people just be in love without anyone jumping to the wrong conclusions?
Lily suggests they take a selfie with his phone. They have to try four times before they get one they both like. Danny posts it to Facebook, because he doesn't care what people he knows think about him and Lily. And he'll get over the fact that one of Lily's friends thinks he's an escort.
Eventually.
Danny wasn't expecting much more from Saturday night than a nice dinner and an elaborate production of Aida, but in addition to that, he and Lily end up having their picture taken for the Metropolitan Opera's style blog. Of course he thinks Lily looks astonishing and beautiful, but he always does, but he wouldn't have thought the two of them together were necessarily style-blog-worthy. Especially at the Met, where there seem to be a lot of people in nice clothes. He's wearing his dark gray pinstripe suit, with a maroon shirt and a vintage yellow silk tie, and Lily is dressed in tapered navy pants, a military-style fitted frock coat with gold braid on the shoulders and gold buttons on the cuffs, and red spike-heeled pumps. Her hair is in a ponytail with a purely decorative rhinestone butterfly clip in the back, just over the swatch of hair wrapped around the elastic to hide it.
The woman who takes their photo is a complete professional, and a week later, when Danny finally remembers to find the blog, he's amazed at how good she made them look. Well, he's amazed at how good she made him look, anyway. He shares the link to the blog with pretty much everyone he knows, including his coworkers. It seems like good advertising for the shop to have one of its salesmen photographed at the Met in one of its three-piece suits.
The day after he proves to everyone he knows that he really was photographed for the Met's style blog, he and Lily are walking her dog along Riverside Drive when they're stopped again by someone who wants to take their picture, this time a male photographer with a blog. And again, Danny wonders what's so interesting about them to an outsider, to someone who doesn't know them. He's just wearing jeans and his black Chucks and an old LL Bean barn jacket he found at a secondhand store, and Lily is in rust-red pants and a cream-colored fisherman's sweater. Maybe the guy thinks the dog is cute, because she's certainly interested in him.
He wants to know something about them, besides whether or not they'll let him put them on his blog. He doesn't seem at all fazed that they're a couple.
“What do you love about him?” he asks Lily, curious more than judgemental.
“The way he looks at me,” she says.
“What do you love about her?” he asks Danny.
How much time do you have? Danny thinks, but all he says is “Everything.”
And in a few days, when he looks up that blog as well, that's the exact caption under his and Lily's picture.
He calls to tell her, and she tells him in exchange that she heard from one of her friends who saw the photo on the Met's blog, and the friend thinks Danny is a hired escort.
“She said what?” he repeats, disbelief making his voice sharp.
“Isn't that funny?” Lily says. “What a ridiculous thing to say.”
“She thinks I'm a male escort? A, a, a date for hire? A - “
“I told her the truth, don't worry.” Her voice is calm and amused. Danny doesn't think it's funny.
“She thinks you paid for me!”
“I did buy you dinner.”
“That's not what I meant! Oh my god.” Does he look like a male escort? What do they even look like? He knows they exist - they have to, since female escorts do, and older ladies have needs too - but he certainly doesn't know any, and he doesn't think he'd be able to tell which young men at any given social function were there because their older female companions were paying for their company.
Is that the only reason why this friend thinks Lily might be out with a younger man? Because she'd called an agency and ordered one? Does she not understand that he was with Lily at the opera because he loves her?
“I told everyone about that picture,” he says. “I shared the link on Facebook.”
“I know.”
“Total strangers are going to think I was only with you for the money!”
“How many total strangers see your Facebook?”
“It's not just that. It's the blog. Total strangers see that.”
“You shouldn't care what they think.”
She's right. He shouldn't. And normally he doesn't. What does it matter what some rando looking at nice clothes on the internet thinks about his and Lily's relationship? People on his Facebook feed know he's not an escort.
...Could he be? Does he have the right look? Is he personable and charming enough? If Lily was any woman in her sixties who wanted a nice young man to accompany her to the opera or the ballet or any one of a number of functions, would he fit the bill? Is he good enough in bed to please an older woman?
Well, an older woman who doesn't know him, anyway.
And why is he thinking about this? It's not as if escorting is something he'd ever do.
“You're very quiet,” Lily says. “I shouldn't have told you.”
“No, it's ok. It's just... it's weird. It means someone doesn't think there's any reason for us to be together unless you pay me. She thinks I'm with you for the money.”
“Just for that one night.”
“Lily!”
“I'm sorry, I know you don't think it's as funny as I do. I don't care what people think about me, Danny. If Annette Montrose wants to believe I'd hire an escort to take me to Aida, let her think that. All she knows is that I was photographed at the Met with an attractive young man in a good suit. That's it. Let her make up stories if it makes her happy.”
“It doesn't make me happy. I want people to know I'm not with you for your money, and I'm not with you because you, you ordered me. It's not a business transaction.”
“I know, honey. I know. I laughed at her and told her the truth, and if she doesn't want to believe me, that's her problem.”
“Will she tell your other friends?”
“She might. No one whose friendship really matters to me is going to listen to her. My good friends know the truth, and as for my acquaintences, I no longer care what they think of me.”
Danny can practically hear her shrug in dismissal. He tries to shrug it off as well, but it bothers him because he knows the truth, and because there's a person out there who doesn't believe someone like him and someone like Lily could ever be in love. And if there's one person, there could be more.
He's not easily offended, but he thinks this might be offensive.
“Do you want to see a movie tomorrow night?” Lily asks, changing the subject. “I was meeting a friend for dinner but she had to cancel. You can take me out on a date.”
“Can I tell total strangers I'm your boyfriend and not your paid escort for the night?”
She laughs. “You can tell total strangers anything you want. You can tell them you're my dog walker or my peony supplier. You can tell them you're my favorite person to be photographed with.”
“Am I?”
She laughs again. “Of course you are, Danny. If we're lucky we'll run into someone else interested in street fashion, and get our pictures online somewhere else.”
They don't. No one even looks at them funny, and Danny doesn't get the chance to tell anyone that they're on a date, like a real date that boyfriends and girlfriends go on, and no money changed hands, and can't two people just be in love without anyone jumping to the wrong conclusions?
Lily suggests they take a selfie with his phone. They have to try four times before they get one they both like. Danny posts it to Facebook, because he doesn't care what people he knows think about him and Lily. And he'll get over the fact that one of Lily's friends thinks he's an escort.
Eventually.