To feel bad for Smith (“the mean reporters staked out her home!
”) is to assume she didn’t anticipate the consequences of her actions, which further implies she must be either stupid or bad at her job or both. Spitzer is an Upper East Side–bred billionaire real-estate heir with degrees from Harvard and Princeton. He lives at 985 Fifth Avenue, three seconds from the Met.
Megan’s Rich Dad wasn’t your ninth-grade best-friend’s boyfriend—he might have been “forbidden” by your ninth-grade social circle, but not by society.
By contrast, Megan’s Rich Dad was off-limits so unambiguously and so absolutely that it might have engendered dual feelings of elation and despair.
Elation, because that Lingering Look made you feel a little bit like an adult, and despair, because Megan’s Rich Dad and guys like Megan’s Rich Dad were—like curfew-less nights and going to college—guarded by that most invincible of minotaurs: time.
She is not a 31-year-old foreign-national who met a stranger in a bar, fell for him, and was shocked to discover that this stranger, Eliot Spitzer, turned out to have a checkered public persona.
Smith, who was more aware than just about anyone else of the potential press scrutiny, tabloid lampooning, and character castigation that would trail any new girlfriend of her ex-boss.
Knowing this, she made a choice: to date the man she wants to date and ignore the noise.
As other, non-patronizing, non-misogynistic, non-hypocritical adults, the polite thing to do is respect that choice.
Eliot Spitzer is a total catch and kind of a babe and I’m going to prove it.
First and most importantly: Lis Smith, Spitzer’s girlfriend and Bill de Blasio’s rumored pick (or formerly rumored pick?
) for press secretary, does not deserve pity, nor does she deserve judgment and contempt.
She is a 31-year-old woman who has excelled in her chosen field, which is political communications.