You're a senator. You know things. That suspiciously gorgeous foreigner wants to know those things.

Once upon a time, you were a shinny young up-and-coming star of your party, enchanting your constituents with your charisma, your energy, and your in-touchness with the issues that they really cared about. Now, almost three terms later, you laze through committee meetings, spend hours soapboxing on issues that don't matter but your base is plugged into, and you partake in all the women who want a piece of one of the 100 members of the world's most strategic gentleman's club.

You'd be surprised how many of the women who want you are from other countries. Weird coincidence, huh?