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(You know how some photos of yourself can make you cringe? My sum total experience is a meeting of eyes at a boring bar party and a B-minus date afterward.Imagine if one of those became a new international icon. quislings are hissing about her "wacky" dress is because she has a sense of style, and this city, simply, does not. If fate, Vernon Jordan, and Ken Starr hadn't intervened, who knows, maybe I'd be the only reporter in the world pursuing her.In Little Cayman, where the fun is in landing, not eating, the bad-tasting bonefish, normally the fish get thrown back. " a woman—the hostess, the birthday girl—called me Saturday night.But the fucking barracuda just hover, and wait, and wait. "Everyone is dying to hear about your date with Monica Lewinsky!I took that particular need and blended it with another one, stepping up to a group of three women who had been hovering near the table. " I asked, and one of them, the one with the smile that seemed to be about nothing in particular, dug into her purse and handed me one. It was a first date, one I wasn't sure would be followed by a second, and how was I to know that the woman on the other side of the table would set the presidency into seismic rumblings?
She may be guilty of poor judgment, but she never asked for this. It's still etched on my December calendar: the Saturday night of Joe and Danielle's going-away party at Stetson's on U Street NW. It was fine, paddling in my little eddy of indifference, waiting for others to approach me. I was lining up a side shot when she stepped up and dropped three quarters onto the table, the smile now seemingly offered more specifically for my benefit. So even though I like Joe just fine, I didn't put a lot of stock in his 12th-hand scuttlebutt. I got the same basic bio you did, though mine was spoken rather than in black and white in the Washington Post: raised in Los Angeles, a city she found fake because her "hair is brown and boobs are real." Parents divorced, dad a doctor, mom an author, seemed to be some family money floating around there, very close with her mom. I've had my share of dates with Really Important D. Career Women, and I've found it's easy to get the skinny on anything that ever happened to a woman from meiosis 'til the leak she took before dessert.You tend not to spend too much time contemplating Tim Russert's innermost thoughts when you're 100 feet under water, breathing through a narrow tube, soaring past the ocean wall in slow motion, staring at 200-year-old sea tortoises, parrot fish, and coral that have no concern for love or career.A week of no news, no television—nothing more than books and the company of a handful of divers and fisherman. C.; the weather in the Caymans was 80 and sunny, the diving was clear, and my tan was coming in even and had yet to peel.Soon enough, Doug was called back to his duties, and I had to start feeding the table quarters. Joe's misgivings aside, his girlfriend Danielle, ever the yenta, was eager to facilitate. We talked about some of her past relationships, though the president's name did not come up.
Between my former colleague Maloni and me, we could only scrape together three of the requisite four quarters. I didn't work her over for her opinions on Netanyahu, the emotional residue from her parents' split, any of that.Although I will admit to an odd weave of loathing and envy when I watch the blabbocracy breathlessly weighing in—Hey, I think, they don't even know this chick. A warm patch of water in an otherwise chilly ocean.