Pages from the
Diary of a Mad
Speaker of the House-wife
Me: never been married. He’s been married twice and is 23 years my senior, but a lot of fun. I call him my Pudgy Playboy. He is a rabid Republican and lavishes gifts from Tiffany on me. He’s a great debater and proposed by saying someday he wants to be the speaker at my house. He promised me a big white house. What to do? I think a cruise is the answer.
Should I worry? My Pudgy Playboy is 58 and I am 35. His daughter is my age! However, I really look younger. Oh, and he is still married –but, he doesn’t love her.
He romantically calls our affair a marathon one-night-stand. It doesn’t bother me that he walked out on his first wife. Really. He is so mad at that Bill C. and Monica.
My friends think I’m nuts. After our six-year tryst, he says he believes in open marriage, I don’t. I do believe in opening presents and he has a charge account at Tiffany’s. Am I shallow?
I married him and got him to like opera, golf and the Catholic Church. The golf thing was really hard. And now he doesn’t have a job. We’ve spent months going from Iowa to Florida interviewing for a job. I wrote a charming book about elephants (Republicans – get it?) to help pay the bill at Tiffany’s, the cruise and the tab at the salon.
The big problem is that he is 68 and maybe speaker at our house, but he is not a mover and shaker in the boudoir, if you catch my drift. Quelle drag.
I’m doing my part. I’ve gone to great lengths to affect the Nancy Reagan stare. Cindy McCain and I have the same hairdresser and dye-lot. Blondes do have more fun. Not to be outdone by Barbara Bush, I wear a single strand of real pearls. I don’t think kids need free lunch or books, they just need music – that’s how I plan to make a mark in history: Bach and Mozart: better than bread and milk.
I have to pack for Maine. I wonder if Martha will be home?
Cally Lou in Tallahassee
Page Larkin San Francisco Examiner at 50