ASHLEY Alexandra Dupre is a good girl. And to prove it, she once left her overpriced Manhattan rental apartment for an expensive recording studio, before grabbing a bite at an insanely pricey restaurant. Then, rather than toss out the leftovers, she kept the half-eaten food for the homeless!
“She has the biggest heart,” gushed a rapper friend called “Logan,” defending Ashley on several TV shows.
“She’s a human being,” echoed a pal, “Mysterious.”
Now, we are getting a clearer picture of this young lady of the evening, the last in a line of babes and C-cups for whom the governor of the state of New York threw away his career, risked his health and maimed his marriage in search of what his madam ominously called “basic” sex.
In the version she’s putting out, young Ms. Dupre is the victim.
Ashley was born – where else? – in South Jersey with the last name Youmans. She chose the flashy surname Dupre, which sounds like a throwback to a burlesque peep show, in order to launch a music career.
“I am all about my music, and my music is all about me,” she gushed, idiotically, on MySpace.
But music won’t pay Manhattan rent.
So before age 22, she developed a second calling as a prostitute, a job that, presumably, does not require a great deal of conversation.
I like to think of Ashley as she exists in her personal Web log. Reading it is like gazing through the sheer curtains of Ashley’s mind, jammed with her personal philosophy about love, “relationships” and thoughts deeper than a client’s pockets.
“If you are in a relationship, and it is ‘doing absolutly [sic] nothing’ for you, makes you feel bad about yourself of situations, just causing unessesary [sic] drama, and ruining things that you may actually care about . . . why would you want that in your life?”
She wrote, “Surround yourself around people that [sic] are making moves, and doing what ‘they want and love’ with their lives, positive energy . . . that’s what life all about . . . living.”
I feel a tear coming on.
Two alternate pictures are emerging of Ashley. In one, she’s a survivor – of abuse, homelessness and drug abuse. This, of course, was before Ashley was nearly forced against her will to command $1,000 an hour to escort rich men from their clothes.
In another version, she’s a spoiled brat whose stepdad bought her a Porsche that she wrecked. So she ran away from home at 17.
For this, Eliot Spitzer lost everything.
Ashley and Eliot deserve each other. One is mentally challenged by accident of birth.
The other is that way by choice.