The Sexual Culture in Washington, DC
CLScott101
SEX AND THIS CITY
The Sexual Culture of Washington Has Always Been Uniquely Predatory
By ANDREW SULLIVAN
Jessica Craig-Martin
Is the unique sexual dynamic of Washington D.C. a problem that we can solve
or is it the inevitable result of the town's demographic unique mix? Do you
think this dynamic is real or is it similar in other urban settings?
Like countless other Washingtonians, I came to the capital city as an intern.
The place is full of them. Each June and September, a new wave lands ashore,
just as fresh and vigorous as the last one. If you catch the G2 bus in the
morning as it wends its way from the dorm rooms and group houses toward
downtown or if you hop on the Metro toward Union Station and Capitol Hill, you
will see them in droves: dozens of former high-school presidents, khakis
everywhere, red ties and sensible red dresses, hair still wet from a rushed
shower.
They are one of the things that make Washington different. Most cities have a
variety of neighborhoods, old people, young people and every age in between.
But D.C. has a uniquely strange demography, skewed toward young interns in
their 20's and elder patrons in their 50's and 60's. The dynamic between them
is so old and so cherished that, like any of the city's famous monuments, it
eventually just blends into the background. Except, that is, when something
goes wrong. Famously, Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Ominously, Gary Condit
and Chandra Levy.
And both of these roles -- intern and pol -- can be lonely ones. Almost all
politicians have spouses and children, but they leave them hundreds or
thousands of miles behind and work long, stressful hours in a city that isn't
their home. And many interns, in a city completely new to them, with few old
friends and many new faces, easily lose their bearings. They aren't here long.
Many internships, like Chandra Levy's, are designed to last only a few months:
long enough to fall in love or make an impression but not long enough to settle
into their surroundings, to build a network of close friends who look out for
one another.
Sex is often the result. Yes, I know it sounds strange to think of D.C., Wonk
Central, as a place throbbing with libidinal promise. That's supposed to be
Miami or Los Angeles or New York. Washington politicians are obliged by ritual
to be pillars of family values, upholding moral duty. Nary a one admits to
being a libertine. But take a walk through the marble corridors of the Hill,
and you find something a little different. The place can crackle with sexual
energy. Young men in tight belts, hair gel and loafers scurry about in
repressed animation. Young women hover in and out of doorways, with the siren
charms of the young, pretty and proper. Among all this youth, equally repressed
lawmakers try to focus on the business at hand.
In this world, the intern-politician relationship can take on a charge straight
out of a Philip Roth novel. The intern may suffer from inflated dreams of
power; the pol may be flattered by a young ingenue's attention. One feasts with
the panther of fame and authority; the other, with the panther of youth and,
inevitably, desire. Both are isolated from their usual social networks. And the
city itself does nothing to calm these tensions: everywhere in this
underpopulated urban enclave there are niches for secret dinners and stolen
intimacy and excited cell-phone chats between lovers well into the night.
It is hard not to see Chandra Levy somewhere in all this. I didn't know her,
but I feel as if I have. In the Georgetown bars and Southeast D.C. dance clubs,
thousands of Chandras come and go, often blurring into one another, looking for
love in the wrong places and getting up early for yet another exhausting day
changing the world. Some of what goes on is truly depressing. I saw it time and
again: young women charmed by older men, bowled over by a power differential
that is hard to resist. I know one longtime Washingtonian who even referred to
each influx of interns, jokingly, as ''the flesh.''
And yet however predatory this impulse, it was often sadly reciprocated. The
''flesh'' were grown-ups, not innocent children, but they still seemed like
victims to me. Few young women, in particular, were in any real position to say
no to a persistent older charmer. Like everyone else their age, they were still
experimenting in how to be a grown-up -- only they had the extra liability of
experimenting in what amounts to an anonymous entrapment zone. In D.C., broken
hearts end up as ubiquitous as failed amendments. I've seen, and still see, one
class of interns after another who discover that their paramour was not really
that interested in her, that he was married anyway, that he was distancing
himself already, in expectation of the new batch to arrive. As a result, my
shoulder -- I was the safe gay confidant -- was sometimes wet with their tears.
Monica Lewinsky seemed notable for being so generic. Victim as well as
provocateur, she scored the biggest intern romantic coup of the century.
Chandra is not alien either. When pictures of her started appearing in Dupont
Circle and my own neighborhood, Adams-Morgan, I was struck by how completely
typical she seemed: the middle-class background, the family back home, the
internship, the romance, the health club, the heartbreak. In this constantly
churning city, I didn't at first suspect foul play. So many interns disappear
each year to some job somewhere else that the occasional crossed wire and lost
forwarding address seemed almost banal. She'll turn up, I said to myself. Only
later did this disappearance darken and did Chandra seem any different from the
rest. Call them Washington's own version of the ''disappeared ones.'' And yet
each year they return anew.
July 22, 2001
SEX AND THIS CITY
The Sexual Culture of Washington Has Always Been Uniquely Predatory
By ANDREW SULLIVAN
Jessica Craig-Martin
Is the unique sexual dynamic of Washington D.C. a problem that we can solve
or is it the inevitable result of the town's demographic unique mix? Do you
think this dynamic is real or is it similar in other urban settings?
Join the Discussion
ike countless other Washingtonians, I came to the capital city as an intern.
The place is full of them. Each June and September, a new wave lands ashore,
just as fresh and vigorous as the last one. If you catch the G2 bus in the
morning as it wends its way from the dorm rooms and group houses toward
downtown or if you hop on the Metro toward Union Station and Capitol Hill, you
will see them in droves: dozens of former high-school presidents, khakis
everywhere, red ties and sensible red dresses, hair still wet from a rushed
shower.
They are one of the things that make Washington different. Most cities have a
variety of neighborhoods, old people, young people and every age in between.
But D.C. has a uniquely strange demography, skewed toward young interns in
their 20's and elder patrons in their 50's and 60's. The dynamic between them
is so old and so cherished that, like any of the city's famous monuments, it
eventually just blends into the background. Except, that is, when something
goes wrong. Famously, Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Ominously, Gary Condit
and Chandra Levy.
And both of these roles -- intern and pol -- can be lonely ones. Almost all
politicians have spouses and children, but they leave them hundreds or
thousands of miles behind and work long, stressful hours in a city that isn't
their home. And many interns, in a city completely new to them, with few old
friends and many new faces, easily lose their bearings. They aren't here long.
Many internships, like Chandra Levy's, are designed to last only a few months:
long enough to fall in love or make an impression but not long enough to settle
into their surroundings, to build a network of close friends who look out for
one another.
Sex is often the result. Yes, I know it sounds strange to think of D.C., Wonk
Central, as a place throbbing with libidinal promise. That's supposed to be
Miami or Los Angeles or New York. Washington politicians are obliged by ritual
to be pillars of family values, upholding moral duty. Nary a one admits to
being a libertine. But take a walk through the marble corridors of the Hill,
and you find something a little different. The place can crackle with sexual
energy. Young men in tight belts, hair gel and loafers scurry about in
repressed animation. Young women hover in and out of doorways, with the siren
charms of the young, pretty and proper. Among all this youth, equally repressed
lawmakers try to focus on the business at hand.
In this world, the intern-politician relationship can take on a charge straight
out of a Philip Roth novel. The intern may suffer from inflated dreams of
power; the pol may be flattered by a young ingenue's attention. One feasts with
the panther of fame and authority; the other, with the panther of youth and,
inevitably, desire. Both are isolated from their usual social networks. And the
city itself does nothing to calm these tensions: everywhere in this
underpopulated urban enclave there are niches for secret dinners and stolen
intimacy and excited cell-phone chats between lovers well into the night.
It is hard not to see Chandra Levy somewhere in all this. I didn't know her,
but I feel as if I have. In the Georgetown bars and Southeast D.C. dance clubs,
thousands of Chandras come and go, often blurring into one another, looking for
love in the wrong places and getting up early for yet another exhausting day
changing the world. Some of what goes on is truly depressing. I saw it time and
again: young women charmed by older men, bowled over by a power differential
that is hard to resist. I know one longtime Washingtonian who even referred to
each influx of interns, jokingly, as ''the flesh.''
And yet however predatory this impulse, it was often sadly reciprocated. The
''flesh'' were grown-ups, not innocent children, but they still seemed like
victims to me. Few young women, in particular, were in any real position to say
no to a persistent older charmer. Like everyone else their age, they were still
experimenting in how to be a grown-up -- only they had the extra liability of
experimenting in what amounts to an anonymous entrapment zone. In D.C., broken
hearts end up as ubiquitous as failed amendments. I've seen, and still see, one
class of interns after another who discover that their paramour was not really
that interested in her, that he was married anyway, that he was distancing
himself already, in expectation of the new batch to arrive. As a result, my
shoulder -- I was the safe gay confidant -- was sometimes wet with their tears.
Monica Lewinsky seemed notable for being so generic. Victim as well as
provocateur, she scored the biggest intern romantic coup of the century.
Chandra is not alien either. When pictures of her started appearing in Dupont
Circle and my own neighborhood, Adams-Morgan, I was struck by how completely
typical she seemed: the middle-class background, the family back home, the
internship, the romance, the health club, the heartbreak. In this constantly
churning city, I didn't at first suspect foul play. So many interns disappear
each year to some job somewhere else that the occasional crossed wire and lost
forwarding address seemed almost banal. She'll turn up, I said to myself. Only
later did this disappearance darken and did Chandra seem any different from the
rest. Call them Washington's own version of the ''disappeared ones.'' And yet
each year they return anew.
http://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/22/magazine/22WWLN.html
GLC1173
>Washington politicians are obliged by >ritual to be pillars of family values,
>upholding moral duty. Nary a one admits >to being a libertine. But take a walk
>through the marble corridors of the Hill,
>and you find something a little different. >The place can crackle with sexual
>energy. Young men in tight belts, hair gel >and loafers scurry about in
>repressed animation. Young women hover >in and out of doorways, with the siren
>charms of the young, pretty and proper. >Among all this youth, equally
>repressed
>lawmakers try to focus on the business at >hand.
"Young men?" I'm just waiting for the first story of a married female
congresscritter and HER intern! (Maybe Dianne Feinstein or Barbara Boxer?)
<I>(Know a Gary Condit story involving the Hell's Angels? <a
href="mailto:edi...@netpath.net">Email this paper!</a>)</i>
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James A. Chamblee
> Is the unique sexual dynamic of Washington D.C. a problem that we can solve
>or is it the inevitable result of the town's demographic unique mix? Do you
>think this dynamic is real or is it similar in other urban settings?
Twenty-five years ago, before computers, thousands of clerks, mostly women,
came to Washington each year, primarily from West Virginia, Virginia, and
Pennsylvania. They went to work for the FBI, Social Security, etc. It was
paradise for young men.
Nowadays, there are a lot fewer clerks.
Donna Evleth
Dans l'article <20010722122129...@ng-fq1.aol.com>,
clsco...@aol.com (CLScott101) a écrit :
Connie, thank you so much for this article. It gave me a lot to think
about. I have not drawn any conclusions yet, that will take time. But the
issues are addressed firmly and clearly, which helps me with my own thinking
on the question.
Donna Evleth
>
GLC1173
>>Twenty-five years ago, before computers, >>thousands of clerks, mostly women,
>>came to Washington each year, >>primarily from West Virginia, Virginia, >>and
Pennsylvania. They went to work for >>the FBI, Social Security, etc. It was
>>paradise for young men.
>>Nowadays, there are a lot fewer clerks.
and replied:
>It's still a paradise for Barney Frank..
Wonder who HIS intern is?
As usual, Jim is somewhat right some of the time. It's just that D.C. is
now a paradise for OLD and MIDDLE-AGED men.