And suddenly, the general public thought they knew who I loved and who loved me, and they were just certain that everything about my real life was, well…steamy.
Then there was John Kennedy Jr. Now, a girl can’t date a Kennedy, particularly that Kennedy, and expect to hold onto any sort of privacy. We did pretty well, really. By the time he and I were romantically involved, I was a little savvier, and of course he was the master. Each “scoop” the press landed was actually planted by John or myself (or in a few isolated situations, by his Uncle Ted who was out to destroy us).
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