My fiancee and I went to the White House to an Illinois-only party, which was the only one Barack was attending. Barack had his Blackberry and I had my new iPhone, so I struck up a conversation with him at a long, rustic wood mess hall table. Everyone at the party was clicking beer glasses in toasts over the table and Barack put his arm around my waist and leaned in to make a toast, but his hand moved up, unbeknownst to him, so that he was groping me. I was going to tell him but I didn’t want to embarrass him. Later my fiancee and I took a tour of the White House on our own and saw Barack downloading an iPhone app that would allow him to monitor his daughters as they slept, to make sure nothing bad happened to them. Later in our self-guided tour, we overheard Barack in his study, drinking Scotch and watching what sounded like porn. He heard us in the hallway, changed the channel came out and offered to show us around. We declined, saying, “You’re tired, just rest. We’ll show ourselves around.” (I wasn’t bothered by the porn. I thought, the man probably needs to unwind.)
From a 28-year old female writer in Chicago, January of 2009.