Seriously, that was a close one. A close one for style. A close one for ever hoping to score another date again.

Following an eye exam today, I broke down and went shopping for new specs. Determined NOT to do this again, I brought my bags of money into the shop and forced myself to stay until they accepted them. I made a big mistake last time by not ordering the anti-reflective coating; but come on, doesn’t that shit sound like snake oil to you? (It’s not. At all.)

But just as I was about to get the hell out of the place with my dignity intact, I pulled a boner. “How about those Transition lenses?” I heard myself squeak out. Seventy bucks later (what a deal!) I was on my way back home.

Let’s review. You’ve seen the commercials; upper-middle class men and women smiling as their eyes are suddenly obscured by darkening glass. It’s mysterious, it’s sexy and I thought “it’s for me.” But then the doubts set in.  I’m 26. Not 60. And I’m also a photographer, someone who might have a problem if their lenses stayed dark when ducking out of the blazing sun and into a shadowy building. Enough! I called and pleaded to change my order.