"You could tank my campaign. Sure. Easier than ever now," he said without the slightest bit of concern. She didn't worry him, then again few things did. "All you'd have to do is go to the press with a truthful account of today's strange dealings. My fellow Republicans would come to my defense, you'd be defamed, but in the end that would be the beginning of my descent into an inevitable Newt Gingrich style resignation. And any time I would try to rise like a phoenix from the ashes -- or more aptly, Jesus on the third day -- retold stories of this day would kick me right back down into the political grave; but I'm not afraid of that."<br/><br/>"Enough Americans wouldn't like you that your mere recruitment to a campaign would be an albatross around its neck. You'd get no reference from me, and therefore you'd remain an unknown quantity to be avoided due to your perceived propensity for drama." He took no joy in explaining it, but she'd asked, "It'd be a career ender for us both. And I know you care about your career or you wouldn't have done the grunt work you did for so long to get the promotion you received today -- the one you were owed. This isn't a 'flirting with the boss, have a pat up the ladder' quid pro quo. You earned it. I wouldn't insult a woman of your social media savvy and natural skill -- you are definitely a twenty-first century political operative. I know you can't be converted to our side. I know you'll never agree with the kind of policies I endorse, but we need each other in spite of our differences."<br/><br/>"Maybe... it's a metaphor for this date?"