Chapter 54 #2
AROUND MIDNIGHT, MARY came down to the kitchen to find Dot still there in the dark, the only light coming from her laptop.
“Can’t sleep?” Dot asked.
“I was doing some proofreading for this brief the firm has to file tomorrow in Manhattan. The partners are still up working, so I thought I’d stay up with them.”
“They’re so lucky to have you,” Dot said.
“I’m just a first-year associate. Nothing special.” Mary waved away the flattery. “How’s the brainstorming going?”
“I finally told Fletcher to call it a night. His ideas were too bro for me.”
“What’s your gut telling you?”
“Okay. Good question.”
Dot put two hands around her big ceramic mug and took a sip of hot peppermint tea.
“Well, here’s what I really think. Since she’s a state senator and only recently in national politics, there’s a sense that no one really knows her.
She’s overly protective of her privacy. I mean, I get it.
But it’s too much. I think it’s held her back.
People want to get to know her. The real her. ”
“You mean she needs to show a little more leg?”
“Something like that. But no, not like that.” Dot imagined their candidate wowing everyone with her beauty and nice figure. That wasn’t exactly what they were going for here. “We might need to save that move for the weekend before the election though.” She laughed a little at the thought.
“It might make my dad take a second look at her.”
“Yeah, but he still wouldn’t vote for her.”
“True. Okay, go on.”
“I think she needs to let her guard down, let people hear from her in her own words what she’s like beyond what they see on the screen.
They know she’s tough and beautiful and intelligent, even funny.
They know her dad was in the military. They like her two dogs.
And Democrats know her platform—that she’s for bringing back jobs, helping regular folks afford to live the American dream, and making sure kids are learning to read and write so they can have a fighting chance in an increasingly competitive world job market. ”
Mary leaned in for more.
“But if we’re thinking of independent voters, like some of our neighbors here, they barely know her name.
And if the GOP is going to flood the airwaves with a bunch of lies about her personal life and make it sound like she’s weird or a .
. . a . . . a slut or whatever—well, that’s going to stick in their minds. And in their algorithms.”
“I’m with you so far,” Mary said. “So, what can you do?”
“I have an idea, but I don’t know if anyone will go for it.”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay. Here goes: What if she created a dating profile that revealed all sorts of interesting details about her—not for her to get a date for the weekend, but something that shows she wants to have a committed relationship with the country.”
“Sort of like, ‘She’s just like us.’ I like it. Go on.”
“We could have her be vulnerable, open. Someone with big dreams and desires. Someone you’d want to get to know—to have as your friend, your neighbor—or even your president.”
“Looking for a long-term relationship?”
“Right. And because a candidate has never done this before—created a dating profile as a campaign push—she’d get a bunch of stories written about her. It could go viral. Well, that would be the goal, but you never know what’s actually going to work.”
“It’s clever.” Mary sat a moment, her lips pressed together as she mused on the idea. “I love that no one has ever done this before. It’s fun and creative. Think she’ll go for it?”
Dot looked out the big picture window toward their backyard, the oak tree lit by the moon, its branches swaying slightly in the wind.
“It’s a risk—but we need to swing for the fences here.”
“Nice baseball reference.”
“Oh, that’s about baseball? I thought it was hockey,” Dot joked, and Mary rolled her eyes.
“Enough. Let’s call it a night.” Mary led the way up to their bedrooms.
As Dot drifted off to sleep, she imagined what she’d write for the candidate the next day.
“This better work,” she thought. “We need a win.”
THE NEXT DAY, Dot sat back on the bar stool at the kitchen counter and twirled a long strand of her hair. She scrolled back through her draft dating profile once more before sending it to Kitty and Fletcher for reaction:
Hi—Reporters at The New York Times think they know something about my personal life that make voters think I don’t have what it takes to be President of the United States. Let me assure you, they don’t.
Instead of responding in the press, I wanted to speak directly to you.
So, here’s my first ever dating app profile—let me know what you think:
Name: Lucy Lopez, 44
Location: Georgia
The first thing you should know about me is . . .
I love America. I always have. I’m the oldest of three daughters.
(Firstborns, represent!) For the last six years, I’ve served as a state senator in Georgia.
My legislative track record is all about good-paying jobs, excellent educational opportunities for children, and making sure the American Dream is achievable and affordable for all.
I have found my purpose and fulfillment in public service—it suits me perfectly.
A few things about my background . . .
I grew up in a military and immigrant family. My dad fled Cuba when he was a teen and lived with his aunt and uncle in Atlanta. He never saw his parents again—they were executed by the government after participating in a protest.
My dad joined the Marines at eighteen and retired from the military after serving this country for nearly forty years. My mom’s parents came to America from Puerto Rico when she was a small girl. They didn’t have a lot of money, but they had a lot of love.
My mom graduated from high school and then worked as a hotel housekeeper for years. She was a wonderful mother. Each of her children still thinks they’re her favorite.
My parents’ love story taught me . . .
My parents met on a blind date when my dad was stationed at Camp Pendleton in California.
Neither of them wanted to go on that date, but it was love at first sight.
They married three months later, and then my dad deployed.
I was born while he was away. My favorite photograph is of him holding me on the tarmac when he was home on leave—the first time he met me.
My parents have a great love story. Unfortunately, I have not found my soul mate yet. But I keep my heart open in the belief that one day I, too, will find the love of my life. Just like they did.
While that search continues, I am open to a strong commitment—one with this country. I want a long-term relationship based on mutual trust, respect, patriotism, faith, and joy. I want to fully dedicate myself to America for the next four years.
What makes me different . . .
I am not a creature of Washington, D.C. I have experience that mirrors that of most of our country, and I believe we live in an exceptional nation.
America is bold, free, strong, and a beacon of light in this world.
I believe that we all deserve a leader who is fully committed to our great country.
One who isn’t beholden to the richest of our country.
One who fully understands the dire situation at our nation’s schools and is determined to make tough changes to policies and to surge resources so that every child can read and write at grade level.
If you like what you’re reading . . .
If chosen to lead this great nation, I promise you my full and undivided attention. And if you’re looking for that kind of relationship, too, double tap to like this profile—and I’ll see you soon.
Pet personality test . . .
P.S. I love dogs (but if you need me to like cats to get your vote, I’ll get a cat). Here’s a picture of my two best buddies, Javier and Jaime. Don’t you think they’d make great White House pets?)
After the last read, Dot added the line about the pets. The candidate’s dogs had been popular on social, so why not use them to get a little attention? And maybe garner some sympathy after this Times hit piece came out.
She took a deep breath and sent the email to Kitty and copied Fletcher. Pippi had been sitting on her lap while she typed.
“I hope they like it,” Dot said to the small dog, and then she sat and waited for their reaction.
A few minutes later, Dot’s phone rang. It was Kitty video calling her.
Dot considered her casual dress and no-makeup look and wished she’d at least thought to brush her hair and throw on some under-eye concealer that morning.
Pippi hopped off her lap at the interruption and went to find a quieter spot.
“Hi, Kitty.” Dot was nervous to get feedback. She didn’t need to be.
“Dot! This is genius. Did you come up with this?” There was a hint of disbelief in Kitty’s tone. Dot decided to dismiss it and take the rare paise.
“Yes, it was my idea last night.”
“It’s so good.”
“Thank you! I just felt like voters don’t know the real her and this might be a way for her to break through.”
“Well, I love it. Love it! It talks past the story without reacting to her ex-boyfriend. And it really could go viral.”
Dot felt the rush of creative satisfaction that had led her into communications in the first place.
“Okay, hang tight,” Kitty said. “I’m going to run it by her.”
Dot gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll be here. And”—she looked down at her old T-shirt—“dressed.”
Kitty laughed lightly and ended the call before Dot could say goodbye.