That was Laura, but she's only a dream...

It was with a certain wistfulness that I read that Laura Bush was in town today. In fact, I couldn’t even finish reading the article which detailed her itinerary, because my eyes had grown too misty. I had to set down the paper, turn on the soothing music of The Cure, and stare at my walls for awhile. You see, not a lot of people know this, but the First Lady and I were once torrid lovers. The ardent flames of youth cool, of course, but I’ve found that the embers can still burn you. Laura-poo and I, her one-time sweet choogly-woogly, burned brightly for a time, so brightly that even today I feel the heat of her caress, the melting passion that once lit up her eyes when she gazed upon my nude body.

It was back when we both lived in Texas. Because my parents read this site, I’m afraid I can’t go into too much detail here, but be assured that our voracious desires often consumed us entire and left us spent and panting at the shores of glory’s golden gate. I’m speaking in metaphors, but you know what I mean. Looking back on it, it seems like the whole thing was fated to happen. After all, she was once a librarian, whereas I very much enjoy books. She is a tempestuous brunette, while I’m a poofy-haired one. She is married to an influential man, and I once had a nice long telephone conversation with Dr. Ruth. Kismet? I hardly believe in such nonsense, but still...

Oh! How it tortures me to write about this part of my life! How my longing still tears at the sinews of my little boy heart! Would you find me absurd if I told you that sometimes I wake in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and tears, crying out “Laura! Come back!”? Oh, spare me your pity, I have enough of my own to get me through my nights, my long and wretched Laura-less nights! What a capricious master life is! To give you so much and then strike you down just as you begin to feel that you deserve it! It’s enough to make a grown man clutch a pastel-pink teddy bear!

I can still remember the night it all ended between us. It was at an Austin-area Best Western. We had just finished our cigarettes and I could sense tension in the air. The conversation that still echoes through my ears went a little like this:

LAURA: We can’t keep doing this, Kevin-dear...

KEVIN: Sure we can. I’m getting a whole lot of Best Western points! And, besides, I love you, my lil’ pookie-wookie...

LAURA: What I mean to say, mon amour, is that I can’t keep doing this.

KEVIN: Bosh! Whatever do you mean?

LAURA: It’s...my husband. I can’t keep doing this to him.

KEVIN: Him again? Whenever will you leave him? I keep telling you, my glorious bon-bon of bliss, that he’ll never amount to anything...

LAURA: He’s governor of Texas! And you’re just some weird guy!

KEVIN: Yeah, but still...

LAURA: I’m afraid this is goodbye...

KEVIN: NOOOOOOOOOO!

LAURA: Yes, and please stop calling me.

KEVIN: NOOOOOOOO!

LAURA: Some things just naturally end...

KEVIN: NOOOOOOOO!

LAURA: Goodbye, Kevin. You were a gentle lover.

KEVIN: NOOOOOOOO!

And that was it. She was out the door. I went “NOOOOOOOO!” for a few hours longer, but I knew that she had made her decision. There was nothing I, a mere Democrat, could do. I paid the hotel bill, packed up my Datsun, left Texas and never looked back. Oh, sure, I see Laura on television sometimes, but usually I manage to stuff my fingers in my ears and change the channel before any real damage is done to my psyche. And then I hear she’s in town. Raising money for the foul Mark Kennedy.

Of course I didn’t go to see her. That would have been weird for both of us.