Politicians in Washington are like movie stars in Hollywood. They're everywhere, they're always shorter in person -- and yet, everyone is still totally impressed.

As a government major at Georgetown, I was a shameless political groupie. I tracked the rarest of species in our nation's capitol -- the young, unmarried, good-looking politician. Actually, I only found one. The year before, he was one of People's 50 Most Beautiful People. Like a teenager with a crush on Brad Pitt, I taped the photo to my desk, where it stayed (embarrassingly) for 8 months.

f course, I never expected we'd actually meet.

But one evening, out to dinner, I spied him at the table next to mine and boldly introduced myself. I was 21; he was turning 32 that evening. A junior in college, I had never dated a guy older than 24, let alone one with such a formidable resume: Ivy League school, law degree, a prestigious political family, and -- oh yeah -- an office on Capitol Hill with two dozen staff members.

I didn't realize it then, but I had already fallen into the insidious "he's better than me" trap. By putting him on a pedestal, I was unconsciously telling myself that I wasn't worthy. In the coming months I would realize how misguided this mindset was.

Our five-minute intro turned into an entire evening of flirting as he invited me along as he celebrated his birthday. We went from the restaurant to a swanky hotel bar, where he asked for a birthday kiss -- and I practically fainted from excitement.

When he said goodnight late that evening, it never occurred to me he would call again. But I was wrong; he called the next week, and the week after.

The concept of him being interested in me was so shocking that my normally healthy self-esteem couldn't get to my brain! Unnerved by talking with him on the phone, I would prepare little "cheat sheets" so I wouldn't blank on conversation topics. (Who does that??) I would compare myself constantly to him: He makes six figures, I get an allowance. He meets with world leaders, I stopped by my professor's office yesterday.

Again and again, I fell short in my own mind. Of course, I'm not the only woman to find herself involved with a man whom she views -- either consciously or unconsciously -- as "superior" to herself. He doesn't have to be a movie star; I've watched beautiful, confident girls reduced to awkward, desperate messes wondering why their boyfriends -- the star of the basketball team or a rich doctor or anyone else who generally intimidates them -- would ever want them.

I was pretty far along that road when he asked me on a weekend ski vacation. I lost five pounds, bought a new pink ski suit and compulsively planned out every outfit. Then we got there -- and he couldn't ski...

Out there on the slopes, he wasn't a hotshot politician, he was just a guy. A guy with no coordination. Later, watching C-Span together (although I'd really rather watch Oprah), he got the Kuwaiti ambassador's name wrong -- and I corrected him! Suddenly, I began to see beyond the image to the real person, who wasn't so intimidating after all.

And when I took the big man OFF campus, I realized that I... well, I just wasn't that into him. Sure, it was an ego boost to date a prominent A-Lister. But beyond that, we didn't have much in common.

The irony didn't escape me. All this time I had been building him up in my mind and underestimating my own qualities, forgetting that no one can be in a good relationship with an idol -- it has to be equal. And if you don't have self-respect, how can he respect you?

The whole thing made me laugh. After all, I had asked myself so many times, "Why does he want to be with me?" when I should have been asking, "Why do I want to be with him?"