It was 2008 and I was living with my then-boyfriend in Los Angeles, sharing a ‘20s style duplex with hardwood floors and jalousie windows that leaked cold air during California winters. He was—and is—a photographer. We met on the set of a shoot I didn’t want to show up for on account of extreme sleep deprivation and general laziness. I remember the point when he reached over and pushed my chin towards the light in a certain way and I could tell, right then and there, that this was the person for me, at least for a time. No matter the duration, you meet people for reasons, and his was to push me towards another chapter of my life, which was out of a career modeling and into writing. Read More
