Four years ago, Jessica Cutler was a 26-year-old Senate aide with a hugely popular secret sex blog. Under the pseudonym “The Washingtonienne,” she chronicled her extraordinary sex life, which frequently involved sleeping with D.C. power players who paid her for sex.

Cutler was quickly outed by Wonkette blogger Ana Marie Cox (now a contributor to The Daily Beast), and her story turned into a massive Washington scandal. She was fired for “inappropriate use” of Senate computers, sued by IRS counselor Robert Steinbuch (who she identified on her blog as “RS”), and given—on the bright side—a book deal reportedly worth $300,000. She also went on to pose for Playboy. Her novel, The Washingtonienne was optioned for an HBO pilot produced by Sarah Jessica Parker.

I used to get a thrill every time people got all worked up about what a ho-bag I was.

Now, the Washingtonienne is settling down. This Monday, Cutler got married in a quiet ceremony at New York’s City Hall to Manhattan lawyer Charles Rubio. Her father and sisters were in attendance. Below, Cutler blogs about how she went from slut to housewife in eight months, and why she’s finally decided to let go of her past.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

My boyfriend Charles and I decided to get married late last night/early this morning. We have been dating for seven months. Like any other woman, I am so excited, I want to tell everyone! If I could, I'd shout it from a mountaintop, but I don't have a mountain, I have a blog. Unfortunately, no one reads my blog, so I had to call people.

"Are you sure?" was the typical response. Not surprising, given that we did not start our relationship under the most promising of circumstances. Without getting too explicit, I did everything a lady who is looking for a husband is not supposed to do: I met him at a bar and slept with him on the first date. It was sort of a blur; I was wasted.

Needless to say, I was a nightmare to date, but once our relationship stabilized, I felt comfortable being nice to a member of the opposite sex again.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

We spent the better part of the day in bed, Googling "city hall weddings new york city" on our laptops. We learned that getting married in New York is a surprisingly simple process. It's so easy, I can't believe I haven't been married before! (I have been engaged four times previously, but I'm hoping the fifth time's a charm.)

We chose to get married at City Hall mostly because I'm a cheapskate. Also, if we had the wedding in a church, my side would be full of dealers, cons, and 18-karat pimps, and his side would be all lawyers. No wedding should look like Central Booking.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Charles formally proposed today, which was totally unnecessary (I'm completely d-whipped), but he did it anyway.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

A freelancer emails me about covering our wedding for the New York Times. (Why am I always so surprised whenever anyone reads my blog?)

I get an uneasy feeling about media interest in our wedding. As if getting married wasn't stressful enough without reporters/bloggers/anonymous commenters weighing in on our impending marriage. But isn't it every New York bride's dream to be in the Times’ "Vows" section? Not mine, really, but who the hell do I think I am to say no? Still it sucks to wake up in the morning and have to worry about what shitty things people are saying or making up about you. It's something I don't want my future husband to have to deal with.

It turns out to be a non-issue since it turns out that classy Times readers don't want to read about my tawdry love life anyway.

Monday, November 17, 2008

We set the date and sent out the email invites today. I wanted to elope, but Charles really wants to have a party for our friends. (I would prefer just to go to bed afterwards.) I have an aversion to deposits and head counts, so we plan on flash-mobbing some place that would otherwise be dead on a weeknight. The bartenders will either love us or hate us.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

A friend of mine who edits an online magazine (not The Daily Beast) asks me to start up a sex column again. I agree to write something, but since this editor's taste trends towards the "dating horror story" variety of sex column, I worry that Charles may not approve. For the first time, I actually have to worry about what someone else thinks. I don't want to write about him, nor do I want to bring up any exes, who have always served as gold mines of material for past columns. I have conflicting feelings of lameness and warm fuzzies: I'm only worried because I really do respect him.

Monday, November 24, 2008

An item about our engagement runs quietly in the Washington Post's gossip column. It seems I'm more interesting as a hooker than a housewife, since none of the blogs picked it up.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Spoke too soon. It seems like everyone is allowed to be an asshole on the Internet except me. But to Gawker's credit, someone actually emailed us for comment. (Which I appreciated, although I could do without being held up for criticism.)

An item about Charles ran on Above The Law, at the absolute worst time of year. Every attorney at his firm is hanging on tenterhooks waiting for the bonus announcements. It's his first rough day on the Internet, and one of many for me.

Friday, November 28, 2008

The Friday after Thanksgiving we got our marriage license, and a preview of the environment in which we'll be married on December 8. We're nervous, but we go through with it. I get hot and start fanning myself with our application.

Later that night, I email my editor friend to tell her I'm having writer's block and cannot finish the column I promised. Although Charles tells me that I can write about whatever I want, I realize that I don't want to write about anything at all. Sex writing is a corner I painted myself into, and I would feel much better about doing it if I were somehow qualified, or if I had actually chosen it as a career.

I originally started writing about my sex life because it was fun subject matter. But instead of writing about sex in a realistic, honest way, I began writing about it to provoke and horrify people because it seemed to generate interest. I used to get a thrill every time some stupid thing I wrote got published or linked to. Then people would comment on it, get all worked up about what a ho-bag I was, and my friends and I would crack up over it. It didn't really bother me if my future husband (who was only theoretical at the time) would someday disapprove and freak out. Because if I had thought about those things, I wouldn't have been able to finish my novel!

For the last few years, I've had a difficult time getting past my past. But finding someone who could accept it made it possible for me to accept it, too.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Wedding day.

Luckily, my husband is not easily freaked out. But I agreed to stop making hooker jokes.

Jessica Cutler is author of The Washingtonienne: A Novel, by Hyperion Books. She has also written for The Guardian, The Washington Post, Playgirl, Capitol File, and Wonkette.