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I am a Northern Virginia female. Being a Northern Virginia
female has one great advantage. With the buffer of the Potomac, I
am able to observe, from a safe and respectable distance, the
phenomenon of the DC male. And what a phenomenon it is.
I, like any local, have had countless conversations about what DC's
city currency is. You know what I'm talking about. What makes DC
tick? In LA, it's beauty. In New York, it's money. And in DC, it's
power. Pure and simple.
A DC man could look like he's been dragged ass-backwards through the
Anacostia, thrown in front of a Senate hearing committee for five days
straight and then gone on a three week bender with the staff of the
Washingtonian, but if he's got a little black book with the cell phone
numbers of at least six Senators, he's got to beat the chicks off with a
stick.
Recently I figured it was time for a change of dating scenery.
Bartenders, baristas and musicians are my usual fare, and while a
casual relationship can be fun for a while, I decided to venture forth
into the world of DC "power" dating. Thanks to some friends on
Capitol Hill and an evening of mojitos, introductions were soon made.
My foray into DC dating was to be with a Booz Allen consultant.
(Incidentally, what the hell does that mean? Consultants, analysts,
project managers...what do these men DO, anyway? ) And did I hit the
power broker jackpot.
This guy was DC to the bone. Overeducated, well connected,
upwardly mobile. Mid 20s and already had a bleeding ulcer. This guy
didn't have friends, he had a network. There was absolutely nothing
he said, did or thought that didn't have something to do with work.
Parties were an excuse to exchange business cards. He would preface
introductions with "This guy's a total asshole, but he works for
Congressman Lahdida, so - - hey, dude! How's it going?"
I suffered through countless parties in impeccably decorated
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