That phone call. That damn phone call. Doesn't Scotty know he's breaking my heart? After all I've done for him, after all we had together, he goes and tells everybody that the phone call "slipped his mind"? I feel so used, so degraded. What, he's some big shot now and he doesn't want the world to think he's flesh and blood just like everybody else? Well, I'm not gonna let him just walk all over me... um, figuratively speaking. I actually really enjoyed it when he did it that one time in Boca.

It all started so simply. Back in 2006 we met at a GOP conference in Aspen. Not one of those "official" conferences, but one of the down-low special conferences where we talk about our real plans and Dick Cheney performs his annual sacrifice to Baal. Scotty was so polite, so charming. Even after we had both finished off a bottle of Cuervo Gold together, he was such a gentleman. Silly me, I was kinda hoping he wouldn't be a gentleman, if you know what I'm saying. I only half-remember the night, but I'm pretty sure I clumsily got him to walk me to my room. We weren't even on the same floor. Ah, but he was a sweety about it. Even after I jammed my tongue down his throat then fell because I broke the heel of my shoe, he stayed calm and collected.

I admit, I really didn't know what I was doing. The next day I woke up with the worst hangover and I stormed down to his room to give him a piece of my mind. After I yelled myself hoarse he sat me down with a bit of the hair-of-the-dog he calmly explained to me that there were a lot of reasons he didn't return my advances the night before. First, we were both drunk and he didn't want us to do something we might regret when we were sober. And then I'll never forget what he said to me. He looked into my eyes and he said, "Sarah, if any woman in this world could do it for me, it'd be you. But I've got to face the fact that the fairer sex just doesn't appeal to me."

Well, I wasn't gonna take that sitting down. I was determined to administer Sarah Palin's patented cure for a case of the home-teams. Yeah, I'm talkin' five CC's of pure, freaky lovin'. You hear that, Massachusetts? You've got a straight-flying senator thanks to yours truly. From that fateful morning, Scotty and I had something special. Oh, but it now seems so long ago. We both got so busy with our careers, especially after that whole McCain thing, and we just didn't have enough time to give us the time we deserved.

But I just couldn't stay away. When I heard Scotty got Ted's seat I thought it was the right time to open the lines back up. Who knew? Maybe we could have rekindled that book-burning bonfire. Then when I finally picked up the phone I get some secretary telling me that "Mr. Brown is indisposed at the moment" then just hanging up. He never called me back. Now I hear that he's been gallivanting around town with some tart intern named Peter. My spies tell me everything has stayed platonic for now, but I know the way Scotty works. He'll be falling off the wagon and right onto a big pile of not natural any time now.

Damn you, Scotty Brown. I would have given you the moon.