Sleeping with Obama

I've been having lots of vivid dreams lately. Last night's installment of these lucid narratives involved my having an affair with President Obama. This dream was notable for a couple of reasons. On the most base, superficial level because for the first time in my life we have a president who is both attractive enough and smart enough for me to even imagine such a physical engagement. In a deeper sense, however, it gave me a window into the power dynamic inherent in any sexual relationship, especially (I can only imagine) one with an elected official.

While the sex part of the dream was less than interesting (even boring), what was particularly compelling were the dynamics of communication. My life intersected just as it is (children, work, spouse, degree, yoga obsession all intact) with the president's (at least as I envision it), though there was an understanding among his staff, the media, and his circle that he would have a "mistress." Even Michelle Obama took it as a given (she was more Jackie Kennedy than Eleanor Roosevelt in my dream), and we even exchanged knowing glances at one point.

After our initial meeting, Obama and I decided that we would get together again in two days, but he called a day early insisting that we meet that day instead. This change in plans meant that I had to re-arrange my schedule, bring my daughter and make up a spur of the moment lie to tell my spouse. I wasn't necessarily irritated by this, nor was I thrilled at the possibility of seeing Obama. I was mostly seduced by the intrigue--of being "the other woman" to the president.

Interestingly, when we met he also brought one of his daughters (it's unclear to me which one) and there were some dyfunctionally sweet moments of the two of us tucking in our daughters (in separate suites, of course). Afterwards, he told me about his daughter's fear of being labeled overweight and I asserted my expertise as a gender studies scholar, citing Joan Jacobs Brumberg's books on the body ("Fasting Girls" and "The Body Project"). Despite my less powerful position in the relationship, I took the opportunity to advocate for women and girls, telling the president that legislation should be put in place to empower women (the details of this are now fuzzy). I was confident as we spoke and excited about my new connection to this power. Yes, I thought in this dream state, I will continue to fuck the president if it means more rights for women and girls.

Then I woke up. In the aftermath of this interesting dream, I began to wonder why I never found extremely powerful men attractive. In high school I hated the football players, dating gay men who weren't yet out (to me, their peers, perhaps even themselves), artist-stoners, and losers such as Todd Manley, who is now in jail and "famous" for having 18 DUI arrests (http://www.wkyc.com/news/news_article.aspx?storyid=1844). Unlike Obama (at least what we know of him), most of the powerful men that I've come in contact over the years have been abusive in some way (literally and in, as artist Jenny Holzer writes, the "abuse of power comes as no surprise" sense). While I've never been raped, the closest I ever came to being violated in that way by a peer came when my friend Greg (who was friends with football players, but not one himself), refused to get off of me when we were making out because, he said, "You know you want it." I often wondered why he stopped and if his status in the power hierarchy of high school (though the incident happened in college), his being one step below the football players, played into it. I'll never know, I never asked and didn't speak to him again, though I did run into him at my tenth class reunion where he seemed surprised that I stopped calling him after our "date."

My Obama dream makes me wonder why so many of my straight women friends have opted for artists, outcasts, and other creative types in adulthood. Like Michelle Obama, we're all smart, attractive superwomen. Unlike Michelle, however, most of my friends wouldn't take their spouse's last names, nor would they settle for the role of first lady to the country's number one man. Part of this may be that you have to be willing to tone down yourself and your politics in order to work within the system. Perhaps it really would take a presidential mistress to bring radical feminist ideas to the White House.

As was the case in my dream, the irony is that the mistress would have to fuck the president to be heard.