Dating in the Age of Trump

It’s like a game of Guess Who? in this political climate.

It was seemingly going so well. My last boyfriend—a nice Jewish boy who I met in the wild—and I had been happily dating for about four months. Joe Biden had dropped out of the race and Kamala Harris was energizing the Democratic party. Then one night at dinner he mentioned that his parents were “true independents.”

Puzzled, I asked, “How do you mean?”

“I mean, we don’t talk politics because I can’t get into that with them, but they have voted both sides for years and, well… I don’t think they like her views on Israel.” 

All I answered was, “You mean, they think your gay son—their grandson—would be safe and happy if this election goes sideways?” 

He responded, “I’m just not going to worry about it.” 

“Listen, I have to tell you,” I said. “It’s a good thing that our kids are grown and we don’t have to do things like Bar Mitzvahs or graduations with your parents, because they’re dead to me if they don’t vote for Kamala.”

He began to push back, gently, “I’m not even going to ask them, Abbe. It’s too crazy making…”

I cut him off. “I’m not kidding.” 

That relationship continued another four months before I called it off, and now, looking back, I’m surprised it even lasted that long.

According to a poll that ran in Newsweek during the last election cycle, one in six Americans has ended or considered ending a relationship because of political differences. The only thing that surprises me about this? That the number is only one out of six. You voted for Trump? Hope he really gets you off, because there’s zero chance that I’ll be doing any of that for you.

For those of us who are navigating midlife and dating, add “political stalemates” to the growing list of criteria to be managed as we consider who may or may not advance to the next round of Love Life Survivor. It’s one thing to negotiate things like will you/won’t you date someone with kids still at home; it’s an entirely different thing to negotiate will you/won’t you date someone who believes that kids come in only two genders. 

We are living in high stakes times, and for me, if you’re not a democrat, you’re a dick—and these days, some democrats are even questionable (ahem, Chuck Schumer). Unlike other times in my life when I’ve enjoyed a bit of mystery going into a first date, these days I’m sussing you out in our first conversation.

During the first Trump oligarchy, I mean, term, I met a guy online who seemed to have a ton in common with me, including a deep interest in ‘80s New Wave bands, and finding the best BBQ or cheesecake or what have you in whatever state we are in (a connection over music or food is the best lube I can think of). On our first date, he mentioned that he was the kind of guy who always followed his instincts (again, I like a strong opinion) and that’s why he knew “that criminal bitch” would never be president. I stood up, left a $20 on the bar, sweetly said, “You’re a douchebag,” and walked out. Luckily, his “instincts” told him not to follow me. 

In another survey from last summer, the dating app Coffee Meets Bagel (CMB) polled around 1,400 of its users and found that 83 percent would consider ending a relationship because of different political views. Most lefties on CMB, 89 percent, believe political alignment is at least “somewhat important” when choosing a partner, while only 68 percent of Republicans did. Ahead of the election, 65 percent of CMB daters—including 77 percent of women on the app—wouldn’t date someone who supports Donald Trump. Political compatibility mattered more to the women surveyed (writer’s edit: duh), with 37 percent saying they would refuse to date someone with differing political views, while only 15 percent of men reported the same.

But what about female friendships? Are we willing to be friends with people who have different political views? In episode 3 of White Lotus this season, a more-than-vaguely uncomfortable conversation occurred over dinner with the three old pals reunited for a girls’ trip, in which it was revealed that one of them now attends church and most certainly voted for Trump.

I won’t ruin the rest of the episode for you, but I will say that had I been at that table, I’d have found it hard to keep chewing my food with my mouth closed. In my own life, within the group I refer to as my “Pussy Posse“—my closest gal pals from college—there are two screaming liberals, one semi-uninvolved friend who is navigating some big family challenges, and another whose husband is conservative (she is not) who she simply cannot “get into it“ with anymore. On more than one occasion, I’ve felt myself get almost pissy with her—my darling friend who married someone that I feel has sold me down the river for his bank account—but we have simply stopped discussing it. I love her and as long as she’s not drinking the Kool-Aid, I’m staying out of it. 

But back to how to avoid dating the devil or his dipshit disciples. Online, you can approach dating during an apocalypse in a few different ways. I’m not currently using any apps, but when I was on Bumble a couple of years back, I had my settings locked and loaded on “Democrats/liberals” only. Even then, there were still some bad, bad, BAD apples that ended up in my basket. But that screener was at least better than when I also allowed “apolitical” potential suitors to step right up. More than once, I’ve been advised that some people say they are apolitical on dating apps because they simply don’t believe in the current system—on that, I’m cool. The current system is a nightmare. But I’ve also found it can be a covert code for cuckoo bird political beliefs, like thinking RFK Jr. belongs in charge. 

A few years ago, I was online and matched with someone who identified as apolitical but seemed great. We had lots in common: both Jewish, loved our careers, really liked new adventures but also enjoyed our tried-and-true favorite restaurants and jaunts. We decided to chat on the phone and instantly began jousting and interrupting each other over which was the best old-school Italian joint in Gravesend, Brooklyn. He grew up going to a beach bungalow community and maintained a membership there! I was already envisioning caftans, kitten heels, and sunglasses à la Liz Taylor by the pool.

And then… on another phone call he mentioned he had a meeting at his daughter’s high school because he was concerned with a friendship she had developed with a “troubled friend.” I must have replied, “Oh, I’m so sorry. High school years can be tough,” which gave him carte blanche to explain that the “trouble” was that the friend was identifying as trans, was changing pronouns, was talking about top surgery, and he didn’t want his daughter near “that kind of sickness.”

Excuse me?

“Yeah, you know, this is all a lot of propaganda. I mean, you don’t see trans people in the Midwest, just the coasts. LA and NY liberals are behind it.”

I hung up the phone. He texted me, just as I was blocking him, “Hey, did you lose power or something?”

Actually, you asshole, I was, in fact, HARNESSING my power of Go Fuck Yourself. 

But what about if, like me, you’re not online dating? While I usually find the apps to be a fun adventure (I’m serious—two of the men I’ve met online over the decade have gone on to be great partners), I don’t have the stomach for any more scrolling than I already do with the news. So how do you spot a Trumper in the wild? Here are a few ideas of what you can say to figure out if they are True Blue or Drop Dead You’re Red:

• “I’m so glad you asked for my number and great chatting. Have to jump off for the night, my girl crush Maddow is coming on MSNBC now.”
  
• Is a holiday approaching? “I’ll be out of town at my crazy parents’ place in Florida but at least everyone is a democrat so no fighting over that at dinner.”
  
• Or just be a straight shooter. “Hey, it seems we have a nice vibe, so I have to ask, how are you staying sane these days? Is the news cycle keeping you awake at night?”

Maybe it’s the circles I run in, in person or online, but thankfully, I’ve had very little nonsense ever since Bungalow Boy. The exception being my demon lover of several years who I finally had to cut free when he told me that QAnon had a couple “interesting” theories. Um, WHAT?! Yup. We lying in a hotel bed, utterly spent after some seriously perfect fucking, when he mentioned that he was curious if JFK Jr. would in fact reappear and join the Trump revolution. After realizing that the mind-blowing orgasms we had both just experienced had not in fact short-circuited his brain, I hesitantly said, “Tell me more?”

He went on to say that “some people” have drawn conclusions, based on some false allegations that the Kennedy and Trump family somehow share blood; that JFK Jr. is not dead, but biding his time until he is needed to step in and help “save” America. I pretend this conversation never happened as I like to occasionally masturbate to the memory of this relationship. 

To avoid any of this utter nonsense in the future, maybe I’ll just start using this as my opening line when I meet a new potential date: “Hi, my name is Abbe and I’m a proud member of the one in six Americans club—maybe even the president.” 

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