Dinner with Donald Trump

Photo Credit: Gage Skidmore Flickr via Compfight cc

It was a chilly evening in NYC. My husband and I were invited to have dinner with my then”new agent” (one of many, indeed the worst) at one of the city’s hip new restaurants.

In those days, I had calmed down considerably. It took a lot for me to go out and mingle with the masses. A dinner on display, which is exactly what it would be, made me cringe.

Even married, a woman in the fashion industry is always on exhibit. It is part of the game. Looking good, in the right places. With luck, you are the one who is magnetic enough to suck the energy right out of the room and attract the art director, movie star or business mogul.

The night in question, we met the agent (thieving scumbag) at the latest swanky joint. After being whisked through the desperadoes that were standing behind the velvet rope, we were directed to the VIP section of the restaurant.

There they were.

Asshole agent, Recent Italian Divorcee (Playboy- he had just taken one of my fellow models literally to the cleaners) Donald Trump, and his girlfriend Melania.

I almost did a quick runner out the door. Yuck.
Not my kind of dinner companions.

The agent was thrilled. He jumped up to introduce us, referring mainly to Trump as if he was one to honor and respect.

I said;

“Sit down already. I know these guys. Hey, Donald. Pleased to meet you, Melania. And you, Tomaso, didn’t you just get divorced?”

Nervous chuckles from idiot agent. My husband was probably nervous too. I knew a lot of people in those days, still, do, frequently forgetting to mention who’s who in my little black book drives him crazy.

The Donald.

I met him in 1988. I was fresh off the plane, fresh new meat.
We met at a party thrown by my agency.
I will never forget him. Pinched lips and all.
Notoriously gregarious, Donald was always in attendance when there was a fete where models could be counted as a dime a dozen.
I remember him cruising the crowd. Surveying the landscape. I knew from day one that he was a womanizer.

He used to throw parties at his place in Mar-a-largo in Palm Beach. He would have buses charted that would ferry models to and fro from Miami.  Frankly, most models will attend the opening of an envelope. Poor, attention starved and up for a thrill, models make perfect party fillers.

No, I never attended one of his parties. EVER.

From the moment I laid eyes on him, he gave me the creeps. But I did see him throughout the years.

Christmas parties, model parties, art shows. I knew him when he was married to Ivana, screwing Marla Maples (literally and figuratively),divorcing Ivana, buying the air space above the Tiffany Store in NYC, naming his new baby daughter with Marla, Tiffany.
Divorcing Marla, dating Melania …. oh god, that guy was always slithering around.

Melania, I must say she was a pleasant surprise. Articulate and down to earth. I was impressed with her, beyond ecstatic that she was sitting to my right. Donald was to her right. The Playboy Tomasso to his right, the scumbag agent to his right, my husband holding them all in place, like I was at the other end of the horseshoe booth.

When my husband left the table to use the men’s room, the Donald, reached right over his date and her dinner plate. His puckered insolent mouth suggested that I leave my husband behind, because, well, Tomasso, the recent divorcee, really had the hots for me. We could all go back to the penthouse and have some fun.

It was at that point I threatened to remove Donald’s left eye with my fork. What a rude man.

It was also at that point that Donald was put in the same category as O.J. Simpson, in my mind’s file of douche bags.
I knew O.J. And guess what? O.J. suggested the same thing.
Both of these “men” had dead eyes. Evil eyes. Hungry eyes.

For them, women are snacks.

Donald did not grab my “pussy” that night or any other night, but what he did do is confirm the fact that some men in power are just as scary as psychopaths.

The fact that HE is running for president and garnering votes from women is beyond me.

I know that look. Those lips. That stupid finger. This is a game he is playing.

Do not get on the bus.

If you do, you will just be one of the many nameless individuals that he will chew up and spit out, without a second thought.

Pussy Grabber.

Donald, you are a ruthless predator. A prime example of what is wrong in the world.


Julie Anderson

Julie Anderson is the Creator and Publisher of Feminine Collective. Julie was inspired to create this safe place for women to share their secrets, desires, triumphs and pain as the antithesis of what mainstream media offers women today. In her column Pursuit of Perfection, she explores the importance of rectifying the balance of inner and outer beauty through essays, poems and articles on self-esteem, shame, family, and self- acceptance.

9 thoughts on “Dinner with Donald Trump

  1. Susan P. BlevinsSusan P. Blevins

    THANK YOU JULIE for that super article. I am going to post it to my FB page (if I am capable). How any woman in this country can vote for him after his shameful behavior I do not know. Glad they didn’t shake hands after the last debate because who knows where his hand had been! And Hillary should not be confused with Bill…SHE is the one running for president, not Bill (referring here to the reply from Lyn). And no one can call Bill a nasty, angry, vulgar, coarse, common, revolting man anyway. Way to go Julie. I love your stories.

  2. Kendra Richards

    Julie you are yet another very credible woman confirming what a piece of work he is… wish it were on tape so he couldn’t weasel around the truth again. Especially when Melania goes on TV and says that is not the man she is married to… he wouldn’t act that way. Apparently he did before they got married and right in front of her. Ugh… no words for this and not even slightly surprised!

  3. Lyn Gingel

    Great article. My problem is that there is some woman out there who can tell the EXACT same story about Bill Clinton. We can say all we want that ‘he’ is not running for office. I try to leave the rose colored glasses off. They are two for one and that if fine….except….Bill is like Donald. Less overt but a predator of sorts.

    I get it Donald is a douche and UNFIT to run for an outhouse let alone the white house….yet here we are as a society (many of us) picking one predator vs the other.

    Sorry, I’m note voting for know predatory scum. Regardless of which one it is.

  4. Margret AveryMargret Avery

    I love that you threatened to remove his left eye with your fork – bravo! I met him once at a party and he was charming to everyone in that evening….a role he liked to play in the NYC scene. Now NYer’s want his name removed from buildings as he has shown his true colors. I personally cannot tolerate listening to him.

  5. Paul Empson

    Yes … I remember that dinner very well , especially when Julie told me the move DonTheCon made when I went to the men’s room . I think we left within 10 mins from that as I was about to lose my cool . Talk about uncomfortable .
    Great article Julie . Keep em coming . Xx

  6. Mary Rowen

    Julie, I’m proud of you for giving him a piece of your mind both in person and here, in writing. I totally understand why many women would be afraid to do that–and I don’t fault them because of his power–but you are a hero.

  7. Rachel Thompson

    A scary meeting, no doubt. Yet somehow, people will deny your meeting with him even though you’re one of the few who interacted with him in a true way. Why is that — because you’re a woman? Huh. Shocker.

    Thank you, Julie, as always, for your honesty.

  8. John Michael AntonioJohn Michael Antonio

    Wow Julie. It comes as no surprise that he is exactly the scumbag that we all think he is. As always, your writing is compelling, passionate and a pure joy to read. Thank you for sharing your stories about this most vile snake of a man. Wednesday November 9th can’t come soon enough.

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