“I failed in a very important way in my personal life.” via CNN.com.
Eliot, baby. Sweetcakes. This is not an apology. This is not making amends. After all, we have it willingly or no, imbedded in our brains, fuckhead, that you had sex with a hooker with your socks on. Stylish, silk business socks? Little clocks up the side? Were they the kind that stay up by themselves (no pun intended) or did you wear little garters, Eliot. Cookie-baby.
Not that I want to know. I think that’s the point.
“I think one of the largest, most difficult tasks that he has is to control the outrage that is brewing in the public, sympathize with it and garner it, but use it to get good policy, not policy based upon anger …”
Finally, a smart thing. From your lips to Obama’s ear. (I kid you, your remark is but a rehashing of his, yes?)
I think you are caught upon the horns of a dilemma (again, NPI) in which you desire, and why not, to retain some professional demeanor, having done an incredibly asshat thing. People speculated all about the kinky needs of men—how I see it is: asshat. Humiliating yourself, paying what’s her name for a good wallop at taking yourself down: asshat.
Obviously, not the whips and chains sort. Or even the CEO-in-diapers sort. What kind of humiliation lurks within such quotidian behavior—and with a whore. A sex worker.
Oh, but you allow us to speculate. Did you hate your job that much? Your wife? Because I don’t for a minute think the sex was all that rewarding.
Nope. You will always be the poor sod who screws with his socks on. A figure upon which other men might meditate (not that they will.) A story we can’t really know—my, would that add to the knowledge women have of men, and vice versa. To the possibility of honesty between partners, to the possibility of sane families and healthy children. To, hell, the possiblity that you are building something real—I thought I caught a whiff of that in your words—in the home you kicked upside down and ruined.
If men just blabbed a little more. Tell it to Ladies’ Home Journal. Eliot. Tell us really why you fucked up.
