In August, I went on six dates in one week. I had decided that I was ready to look for a partner. Enough of this dating unavailable men a half-decade younger than me. They’d never seriously consider a relationship with me, my two children and our needy dog. No. I wanted to find an equal. A man who wouldn’t feel the need to step in and rescue me. I didn’t need rescuing.
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Translation: I am brain damaged and I want a rich extremely handsome man that will die in 6 months and leave me all his wealth.
But two weeks later, the election happened. Once it was clear that Donald Trump would be president instead of Hillary Clinton, I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to gather my children in bed with me and cling to them like we would if thunder and lightning were raging outside, with winds high enough that they power might go out. The world felt that precarious to me.
Translation: I am a whiny, sniveling bitch that cannot deal with life.
I’ve lost the desire to attempt the courtship phase. The future is uncertain. I am not the optimistic person I was on the morning of Nov. 8, wearing a T-shirt with “Nasty Woman†written inside a red heart. It makes me want to cry thinking of that. Of seeing my oldest in the shirt I bought her in Washington, D.C., that says “Future President.â€
Translation: I am fat, lazy and no man in their right mind would look at me, let alone date me. It ain't my fault so damnit!!! It is all Trump's fault!!!
There is no room for dating in this place of grief. Dating means hope. I’ve lost that hope in seeing the words “President-elect Trump.â€
Translation: Nobody asks me out anymore for the simple reason I have driven every man that has shown a modicum of interest in me away with my liberal moonbattery drivel. Pimps won't even talk to me. It is all Trump's fault!!!!!
