Campus Life

Squid vs. Whale

Baby, We Need To Bring This Extramarital Affair Out Into The Open.

We need to talk. The status quo has to end. We can’t keep sneaking out to the Four Seasons on Thursdays while I’m pretending to take my son to Little League. I’m an important person and the press have been stalking my SUV since last Tuesday. If we keep up this steamy love affair, sooner or later it’ll explode all over the papers.

I know this is difficult. It’s like we’re star-crossed lovers. We’ll have to make changes. No more suggestive e-mails, no more checking into hotels under pseudonyms. No more spending some time away from my kids on Father’s Day weekend.

It’s going to be hard, but lets face it, I can’t get caught. It would ruin me. I have my political aspirations to consider.

Not to worry though, I’ve got a plan that will let us keep “hiking the Appalachian Trail” for years to come. I learned it from watching Burn Notice. It’s called steganography. I looked it up on Wikipedia. It means “hiding in plain sight.”

What we’ve got to do is make this extramarital affair so obvious that no one will think we’re having an affair.

First we’ll have to form a professional relationship so no one gets suspicious when we’re locked up behind closed doors for minutes at a time. I’m thinking something with confidentiality involved. You could become my therapist, or, better yet, how about my lawyer? I could actually use better counsel. And your counsel will be passionate and professional.

Why don’t you enroll in law school? Yes, it will be years before you pass the bar, but after your 1L summer you can come work as my intern. No one will suspect anything when I ask you to bring in the Watermann file every afternoon at 4 p.m. And by Watermann file, I mean you mounting me on top of my mahogany desk.

After you pass the bar, we’ll have to keep the charade up. You’ll rise through the ranks at a prestigious law firm and sign me as your client. This will make things easier. Instead of illegally funneling campaign contributions to buy you nice things, you can just bill me. You’ll rack up plenty of hours while I give you my “power of attorney.”

Meanwhile, I’m going to craft a public persona so spot-free that no one will ever imagine me as an adulterous sleazebag. On the campaign trail next summer, I will keep mentioning that I’m an Eagle Scout. I will champion traditional marriage. I will parade my insufferable wife in front of crowds and kiss her with my mouth open. I’ll hide the fact that we’ve been living a sham marriage by taking her out on well-publicized romantic getaways and espousing the virtues of our interminable union. We’ll have another child to keep the press occupied. It’s going to be one of the toughest things I’ve ever done, but, baby, that’s how much you mean to me. I’ll rekindle the flames of passion with my wife if it means we can keep our forbidden love going just a little longer.

Until then we just gotta hunker down and let this media storm blow over. Why don’t you gain a few pounds and stop putting on makeup? Then no one will think such a handsome guy like me would be interested in a hideous axe wound like you. It worked for Clinton.