She helped my husband get into the white house. She campaigned for us. She fought for us. But it wasn't for us.
It was for him.
We smiled and laughed and did thosefemale bonding things. It was nice to have someone in The Circle that I could talk to; girl to girl. She never really did say much and now I guess I know why.
Fitz is a good sport. I'll give him that much. I mean you would think that comparing their four years to our fifteen plus would pale in comparison. You would THINK that our previous children together would cause them to pause. At least one of them for Christs sake. But they didn't. Even. Pause.
Ah, but back to where credit is due. Fitz is my husband, but he doesn't love me. In fact he despises me. And I only laugh because this is my life. Really four years of a discreet tug and pull in the sheets here and thereshould pale in comparison tp over fifteen years of marriage. But in my world it doesn't and that is what's so damn funny.
Anywho this man who I practically had to drag into the white house hates me. In a plain and simple context he hates me. But he can pretend as well. Lord knows that man can put on a show. He sits there with me in interviews, smiling as we exchange our Cyrus produced banter. He looks into my eyes with a dull twinkle and I search. I look and dig and drudge until I can find a sincere point in his gaze. Anything at all. And it's there. I know because when I finally do see it, it's like the sun burning itself away; his passion is so intense. But when I do find it I know it's not meant for me. He's thinking of her even though he's looking into my eyes. Mine. His partner in life. The mother of his children. His wife.
But he pretends to think of me on those rare occasions when he has the audacity to look me in the eyes. And that is where his credit is due. In being a good sport even though as soon as the cameras stop rolling and the nation isn't watching he is going to crawl right back to her. Once my only friend. Once my dearest friend.
And she's no better.
But guess what world? When the camera is running I'm the bad guy. He has the affair and I have to apologize? He cheats on me with someone else for years and I do nothing but play the part of the dutiful wife standing by his side unbegrudgingly and I have to say sorry.
They want to know why I went on national television to "air our dirty laundry". Here's the secret. There was no political agenda or sweet deal on the side, because if there was Honey, I wouldn't be preaching to the choir. And I didn't do it to ruin his polls. I did it because I was angry and I had enough. If that reason doesn't suffice for a woman scorned then I don't know what will. So when I aired the dirty laundry it wasn't ours. It was his.
I'll say that I'm not proud of everything I had done up until then, but at least I can say the horrid things I took part in was for his benefit. For the benefit of my husband. What a swell thank you isn't it?