The front page of the New York Post’s Sunday May 28 edition looked, most likely not accidentally, more like a website home page. Gridded, squared-out stories, each dangling some sensational bait.
The cover also doubles as a media Rorschach test. If you could click only one of these web-like print boxes, which one would it be? Here at Fishbowl HQ, we’re burned out on Cosby, lukewarm on Hamptons jet-set melodrama and as far as A-Rod is concerned, congrats to him, but we already knew about that.
So, we went with “I Was a Saudi Arms Dealer’s Pleasure Wife:”
Our relationship ended in the summer of 1982, although there was no written contract to rip up. It was an amicable split and we kept in touch by telephone for years. In 1989, I founded the surfing- and snowboarding-inspired clothing line Roxy and became a successful business owner.
I continued to have an affection for Adnan [Khashoggi]. I missed him and thought about him all the time. The last occasion we spoke was over the phone in 1988 when I was a single mother after my first divorce. He offered to send a plane to pick me up in California and fly me to the King of Morocco’s Palace in Monaco, where he was staying. I didn’t go because I had a jealous boyfriend. That’s my biggest regret. I should have gone, even just to say thank you for [paying for] my education.
The article is a fascinating sneak peek at Jill Dodd’s forthcoming June 6 memoir The Currency of Love. Khashoggi is now 81 and remains based in Monaco. Dodd is 57 and, well, you’ll have to click through “Box #2” for the update on her.
Post reporter Jane Ridley does a good job of capturing the complicated and, yes, sometimes liberated layers of this tale. At the time, Khashoggi had many women like Dodd on the side in addition to his wives.
For Dodd, it all started in 1976 when she answered an ad in the L.A. Times for a “fit model.” Within a few years, she was appearing in high-fashion magazines like the French editions of Vogue and Marie Claire.