My Political Crush

I am in love with a complicated, charismatic man with a very high profile career. As such, I have to share him with audiences around the world, his constituents both local and across the globe, and wait hours on end just to have a little, as they call it in the business, "face time." So, when President Clinton made a stop in Iowa City to campaign for Hillary, I was beside myself. He was coming. To my city. No admission fee. I started planning my wardrobe immediately. I wanted to look classy but liberal; feminist chic. My boyfriend is a fervent democrat as well, and, though he'd never admit it, has a secret crush on Clinton as well. He got the night off so we could go see Bill together. I felt like a girl with two prom dates; one would pick me up and I'd meet the other at the dance.

After we parked the car, got frisked by security, and found a spot among the standing room only crowd in a ballroom adorned with "Hawkeyes for Hillary" banners, we joined the liberal buzz and waited for Mr. Clinton to arrive. He was 45 minutes late due to an early midwestern snow storm, but we didn't care. When he finally arrived, the crowd went wild. He was a rock star back in the days of MTV campaign appearances, and he was a rock star now, albeit a grayer, more work-worn version. I craned my neck and stood on tippie toes to see the podium while my 6'4" boyfriend snapped photos above the crowd.

For the next 50 minutes, we were taken back to the days of his State of the Union speeches. He spoke without notes, crafting an articulate argument for electing Hillary and demanding change for our country. In classic political style, he also led us down democratic memory lane, recapping some of his achievements in office. It was a brilliant combination of humility--"I'm just here to tell you what I know about Hillary" to the cocky, "Everyone knows I'm better than you, George Bush."

Because it was his last stop of the night, he promised to stay and shake hands. As the crush of democrat groupies made their way to the stage, my aforementioned 6'4" boyfriend cleared the way for me. I brought my copy of Giving, his latest book, and waved it in the air hoping to make eye contact. And we did! He raised his head (in recognition?) and beckoned me to the front with his large powerful hands. Oh my God, he is beckoning me to the front. People looked back to see who the President had selected from the crowd. I was Courtney Cox in the Bruce Springsteen video! My mind was racing, searching for just the right thing to say to my political crush. What could I say? "I really appreciate what you did for the Kosovars" or the standard Emily Post, "It's an honor to meet you Mr.President." I was almost within reach, flashing an expectant and giddy smile and passing my book to him, when a secret service agent stepped in front of me, grabbed my book, and said, "I need to take that please." But wait! I wanted a personal autograph! I wanted us to have our moment where I say my line and then he asks me my name. I wanted him to reach into his suit coat for a pen and inscribe my book with a personal message while I stood in deference. But Secret Service man left me flustered, so much so that when President Clinton reached out his hand, I pointed to the agent behind him and said, "He took my book!"

He took my book? That's what I had to say to the former most powerful man in the world? Not missing a beat, Bill shook my hand, smiled, and thanked me for supporting Hillary before moving on. I was frozen. I wanted it to be special, memorable. I moved away from the crowd, stood on a chair and searched for my boyfriend. I found him standing at the other end of the line, waiting for his turn with Bill.