Occasionally, a friend will ask me to take pictures of one of her kids for a senior yearbook page or something like that.  I'm not a great photographer -- I'm just really good at shaming kids into doing things they clearly don't want to do.  So when my friend, Caryn Brake, asked me to take photos at her mother's wedding, I said no because the stakes were too high and there's no shaming people at their own weddings.

When Caryn insisted, I agreed, as long as I could bring a mutual friend, Jan Ferraro.  Jan is really creative, but she also has the decorum, focus, and brand new camera that give a fake photographer the confidence she needs to capture the most important day of someone's life on film. 

Yesterday was the big event, and in the morning, Jan called me to suggest that we dress up like professional photographers.  So it was black boots, black pants, white button-down shirts and vintage skinny ties (plus, obviously good hair and make-up).  Our ensembles went over really well with Caryn and her family.  And, of course, Jan was right there shooting away when my camera died, but was resurrected, during the church ceremony.

At the reception, a guest walked up to Caryn and asked her, in all seriousness, where she had found the lesbian photographers.  And after blacking out from excessive glee, she ran over to make us aware of the comment.  At that moment, everything shifted.  Jan and I were not only fake photographers, but also fake lovers.  And with our new romantic energy, I believe the quality of our work may have improved.  But how would I know?  What do I look like, a lesbian photographer?