There’s a special place in queer lore for the unbothered, the unbowed, and the unequivocally bold. Madonna writhing in a wedding dress, Elton John wearing sunglasses inside—Aidan Maese-Czeropski, better known now as the Senate Twink, may not yet be canon, but he’s certainly auditioning.
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In what can only be described as C-SPAN meets Call Me by Your Name, Maese-Czeropski, a 25-year-old former aide to Sen. Ben Cardin (D-MD), took his job dissatisfaction to cinematic heights—filming a sex tape in Hart 216, one of the most historically significant rooms in the Capitol. That’s the same room where James Comey spilled tea on Russian election meddling and where Ruth Bader Ginsburg was sworn in. But as of 2024, it’s also where Aidan said, bluntly, “Yeah, I’m going to entertain myself and f–k in a room.”
And he did. The video leaked from a WhatsApp group chat, naturally. Soon enough, Twitter, Reddit, and group chats across gay America were lit up like a drag brunch mimosa tower.
“I became catatonic. My brain shut down,” Maese-Czeropski told New York Magazine, reflecting on the moment his private act went public. “But I don’t regret f—king in the Senate.” It’s the kind of scandal only a bored millennial bureaucrat could manufacture: equal parts disillusionment, desperation, and a sprinkle of digital-age naiveté.
While Washington gawked, Maese-Czeropski fled. He backpacked through Southern Africa, Portugal, and the Canary Islands, eventually landing in Australia, FaceTiming his way through redemption arcs like a sun-kissed expat influencer.
“It’s hard to say that I learned a lesson,” he admitted. “In some sense, I f—ked in the Senate because I was miserable and wanted a way out.”
The tragedy—if we’re calling it that—isn’t moral decline but millennial burnout. Maese-Czeropski wasn’t embezzling taxpayer dollars or leaking national secrets; he was, in his words, “bored out of my f—king mind.” Picture a queer Hamlet in khakis, surrounded by stacks of policy memos and no exit strategy, whispering: “To nut, or not to nut.”
Still, the consequences were swift. Fired from his position, publicly shamed, and briefly hospitalized after the tape leaked, Maese-Czeropski endured a wave of backlash. Capitol Police investigated but filed no charges, citing no criminal wrongdoing—just a “likely violation of congressional policy.” (Translation: tacky, but not technically illegal.)
Yet what could’ve ended in obscurity found second life online. Enter: Senate Twink Official, Maese-Czeropski’s new OnlyFans account. “I’m going to make bank off this name,” he declared. This is gay resilience, rebranded for the creator economy. Why wallow in scandal when you can monetize it?
The real gag? He’s not wrong. In a world where straight men from The Bachelor casually pivot to softcore fame, why shouldn’t a twink from the Senate cash in on his 15 minutes and a few shaky cam angles?
“I know so many people who’ve f—ked in the Senate,” he teased. “I could throw people under the bus to water out my own scandal.”
But he hasn’t—yet. Because for all his defiance, there’s a tinge of classic gay survivalism in Aidan’s arc: make it outrageous, make it iconic, and never, ever apologize to the establishment. Instead, call it “performance art.”
And while some have called him “washed up,” Maese-Czeropski doesn’t seem too pressed. “I just needed time to process the scandal,” he explained, before launching into his full frontal redemption narrative. Whether he’s reclaiming his agency or just getting better lighting this time, it’s his prerogative.
So, is he a cautionary tale or a queer anti-hero? Depends on who you ask. But one thing is clear: Aidan Maese-Czeropski didn’t just break the rules—he rewrote them, in a lube-slicked pen, on Capitol Hill parchment.
Source: Intelligencer