Kiss and Tell II: Hillary Rodham Clinton

I am no longer sleeping with Hillary Rodham Clinton.

When Mrs Clinton was in Uganda with her husband on a state visit, I was in the press entourage, there to cover the proceedings from an objective and impartial point of view.
The objective and impartial point of view they gave me was right in the back of the room, and so, standing only five-seven in my socks, it was obvious that I would not be seeing very much.
So, as the other reporters jostled and pushed for Bill and Yoweri’s attention, I was left to wander the grounds dejectedly, having given up.

I loitered outside and round the back, which is where I bumped into her. She had snuck outside to have a smoke.

“Gotta light, homeboy?” she asked. (That is how Americans talk.)
“For shizzle!” I replied. In Ebonics, an American dialect, it means For sure.

She was impressed that a person so far away from America was so conversant with its lingo and I was impressed by her large, heaving, voluptuous…. proximity to the seat of power.

It was supposed to be a one-night stand, and I didn’t expect to develop these feelings for her, but I couldn’t help it. That one night was magic. As we smoked a joint together in the moonlight, and talked after making love, I saw that behind the ironwoman façade lies a sensitive, caring, and deeply lonely little girl. And when I saw that girl, I fell in love with her.
However, just as I was about to tell her how I felt and present plans for me to come to Washington, get a green card and an expense account, perhaps sleep in the poolhouse, Bill walked in on us.

He was really pissed off. As you know, he doesn’t smoke weed.

Now she never returns my calls, and all my emails bounce. It took me a while to get over her, and I am not sure I am completely over yet.

I will always love you.