OK, I admit it, I'm not a big hobbyist. In fact, most of my pleasure from this community comes by way of voyeur. Still, I find the purpose, mentality and honesty of these pages - and the individuals who participate often - refreshing in this cynical, superficially PC yet hypocritical world. This realization struck me today quite poignantly as I traded glances with an astonishing-looking sales girl working in an L.A. antique store (antique window shopping being one of my lunchtime pastimes). She was showing me a digital picture of a chandelier on her computer monitor. As she taps her keyboard, our bodies brush against each other inadvertantly. She doesn't pull away, nor do I. Only a few fleeting seconds of human contact, yet my mind races with visions of bodies melding together in an impromptu seduction, the light aroma of her perfume replaced by the sweet scent of afternoon sex. Then, just as quickly, I see myself explaining that I'm married. I promise to steal time for more clandestine trysts but future afternoons are hard to come by. My wife becomes suspicious. This beauty gets fed up, jaded, vows never to see me again. "I despise you," she tearfully admits, "and I told your wife everything." A sharp pang in my gut ends the fantasy and instinctively I back away from the shop girl's innocent touch. She asks for my business card so she can call me when the piece comes in. I tell her that I'll just check back in a few days. I can feel her eyes on me as I hurry out the store. In the car, it occurs to me. That's what I love most. The relationship between provider and hobbyist obviates the drama while preserving the fantasy. Value paid for value received. What could be more ingenuously humane?