Spring is at last in the air in New York City, and a couple of times in the last couple of weeks, I've seen a curious sight: two women, one sitting on a bench in some picturesque setting -- Cobble Hill park, busy East Village street -- and the other taking her picture. These weren't photo shoots -- neither the photographer nor the camera were of the professional variety -- but they weren't just snapshots on a fun outing either. The first time I saw it, I didn't know what what going on, til my wife clued me in: Match.com. The next time I saw it, I recognized it instantly -- once you know what the pattern looks like, it becomes obvious. And, like everything interesting about the social uses we are pressing out tools into, it was two parts technology to seven parts humanity. It was interesting that the photos were being taken outdoors -- the message seemed to be (at least interpreted from the Guy side of the aisle) "If you want to see my apartment, you'll have to wait til I invite you in, even if it's just on film." The other commonality was that at one point, the subject threw herself into a faux glamour-girl pose, acting out some of the tension of being photographed for anonymous and distributed judgment and channeling some of the images of womanhood that saturate our lives. And of course, the Vargas pose was a cue for both model and photographer to collapse into giggles. It was sweet, really, a new ritual of friendship for our little corner of the 21st century, when it isn't just models and performers who need to worry about mediated representations of themselves.