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It included chapter and verse about my intimate sexual activities, along with transcripts of audiotapes that chronicled many of my private conversations. True, this wasn’t the first time I’d been stigmatized for my affair with Bill Clinton.

But the epic humiliation of 1998, when her affair with Bill Clinton became an all-consuming story, has followed Monica Lewinsky every day.

She tried leaving the country, and she tried finding a job.

We were discussing the tragic death of Tyler Clementi.

Tyler, you will recall, was an 18-year-old Rutgers freshman who was secretly streamed via Webcam kissing another man.

It would also prove, so I hoped, to be a gateway to a more normal life. I’ve had to become adept at handling any number of reactions in social situations and job interviews.

I moved between London, Los Angeles, New York, and Portland, Oregon, interviewing for a variety of jobs that fell under the umbrella of “creative communication” and “branding,” with an emphasis on charity campaigns. Now she was not only wincing but also clearing her throat. I get it: it must be disconcerting to sit across from “That Woman.” Needless to say, I didn’t get the position.

The ease, the speed, and the distance that our electronic devices afford us can also make us colder, more glib, and less concerned about the consequences of our pranks and prejudice. In 1998, when news of my affair with Bill Clinton broke, I was arguably the most humiliated person in the world. More degrees.) I decided to turn over a new leaf and attend grad school.

Having lived humiliation in the most intimate possible way, I marvel at how willingly we have all signed on to this new way of being. Thanks to the Drudge Report, I was also possibly the first person whose global humiliation was driven by the Internet. I moved to England to study, to challenge myself, to escape scrutiny, and to reimagine my identity.

In my own case, each easy click of that You Tube link reinforces the archetype, despite my efforts to parry it away: Me, America’s B. For several years I tried my hand in the fashion-accessory business and became involved in various media projects, including the HBO documentary. (The last major interview I granted was 10 years ago.) After all, not lying low had exposed me to criticism for trying to “capitalize” on my “notoriety.” Apparently, others talking about me is O. I turned down offers that would have earned me more than million, because they didn’t feel like the right thing to do. My professors and fellow students at the London School of Economics were wonderful—welcoming and respectful.

Over time, the media circus quieted down, but it never quite moved on, even as I attempted to move on. I had more anonymity in London, perhaps due to the fact that I spent most of my waking hours in class or buried in the library.

One of the unintended consequences of my agreeing to put myself out there and to try to tell the truth had been that shame would once again be hung around my neck like a scarlet- albatross.

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