Former New York mayoral candidate Anthony Weiner is a seemingly endless supply of content, always ripe for the Internet. GQ's Marshall Sella has a lengthy article featuring an interview with the man himself about his post-campaign life.
We went ahead and pulled the best parts.
As ripe as Weiner is for the Internet, it supposedly cost him the election: "I will say this," he said, saying this: "I have no desire to walk into a bar and pick up a woman. I love my wife. "And maybe if the Internet didn't exist?" he added. "Like, if I was running in 1955? I'd probably get elected mayor."
He won't answer whether his marriage to Huma Abedin will last: "One thing I'm grateful for is that now I'm under no obligation to answer anything like this," he said. "But we've had a very rough time. It causes me a great deal of pain in the way she gets reported and the way she gets discussed. Her treatment in the press has been rough. It pains me because I deserve it. She doesn't. I duck it as best I can," he added, "but her reputation has become the Woman Who Married an Idiot and Stuck with Him. More of it rolls off my back, because that's the way I am constitutionally. She's more sensitive. I'm just an empty, soulless vessel, so it doesn't hurt me as much."
Here's the most humanizing thing about Weiner you'll ever read:
Things were getting back to normal. It had only been a week—and the end of a campaign feels like driving a car into a wall—but he was again able to take Jordan on little morning walks and make him breakfast. "He always used to yell 'Da-da-da' from bed," Weiner said, "but the campaign interceded, and then it was 'Mama' in the morning. And I thought, 'Fuck. I lost my one little thing I had.' But now he's back to calling Daddy in the morning, so that's good."
His mom speaks!: Fran Weiner seemed a little dazed by the hubbub [at the election night party], but she was happy to tell me about Anthony as a boy. "He was always eager to please," she said. "And charming, very engaged with people." This was making all kinds of sense, so I asked Mrs. Weiner what sports he'd liked as a kid. She said he liked hockey, but then added something curious: "But he wasn't obsessive about it."
Weiner knows his strengths: "Maybe I don't have the greatest connection with the emotional shit going on," he'd tell me, "but when it comes to looking at a problem in the city and how to fix it, that's where I'm at my best. That's where I'm good."
He denies he was trying to self-sabotage by sending out so many sext messages: "I've heard that," Weiner replied, nodding ... "Thought about it quite a bit. No doubt the obstacles in my way were obstacles I created. But I don't think so. I just didn't think of it all as a capital offense. And I rationalized it. I thought, 'This person's my friend. Why would they turn on me?' But it isn't about harm I've done to the world—it's about harm I've done to my wife. So rationalizing it is asinine."
Weiner's pet cat is missing an eye: Exactly one week to the hour after his concession speech, Weiner was stretched out on an off-white sofa in the Park Avenue South apartment where he, Huma, and their 20-month-old son, Jordan, live. His one-eyed Persian cat, Shaka, was lying near but not next to him.
He thinks he was "important" while a congressman: "Congress just isn't a good job anymore," he'd told me before the primary. "I was… I was okay at it. But why? Because I was a good talker about stuff, a good arguer about stuff. Not to overstate, but I was a pretty important member of Congress because I'd figured out the outside game pretty well. But if someone goes to Congress for thirty or forty years nowadays? They're doin' shit. They're doin' nothin'."
Weiner's wife was "traumatized" by the campaign: "I feel bad saying this," he said calmly, "but I was really fried [election] night. It was such a taut moment, and the campaign was coming to an end, and I had tried not to lose my composure in what might be the last political speech of my life. My family was there. Huma's been kind of traumatized by this whole thing. So I was just completely frayed at the edges. But I knew immediately it was a mistake."