When someone asks about my worst hookup, I have plenty of options to choose from, but I inevitably end up telling the same story. It’s the one where I started arguing with a Trump supporter and then, before I knew it, I was waking up the next morning in his bedroom.
There were flags everywhere: Ronald Reagan's face was emblazoned on one of them, “Don’t Tread On Me” made an appearance on another. I say it was the “worst” not because the sex was bad, but because, well, see above.
This was in early 2016 before the Trump presidency. So while I found a lot of his comments abhorrent, hooking up with his supporters wasn't quite the moral conundrum to me that it would become a few months later.
To my own surprise, we kept hooking up and—despite the fact that our political opinions were diametrically opposed—it didn't feel weird. When we texted, we'd naturally argue about politics. When we met up in person, that pent-up anger would turn into frustration, which would turn into a sort of competitive tension that resulted, inevitably, in sex.
I knew we'd never be anything more to each other than a hookup, but I didn’t care. The sex was hot, and all that witty banter about tax codes, emails, and border walls was the foreplay I never knew I needed.
I assumed it was a onetime experiment, but shortly after we ended things I started sleeping with yet another Trumpster who I was inexplicably attracted to. This was after Trump had secured the nomination, but in my defense I was still pretty certain we were going to elect Hillary Clinton, so I could ignore the fact that this guy wore MAGA hats.
But once again the thrill of the election and the friction of our differences made the passion so much more palpable in bed. So I let it wash over me, filling me with a desire to prove him wrong—or maybe to just be on top of him.
As much as I don't like the idea of sleeping with people whose values are clearly the opposite of my own, I can’t seem to stop, especially since the election. Knowing that the guy I’m with is on the “winning” team just forces my annoyance with Trump and his supporters turns into depression, anxiety, and frustration, I still get an odd sense of vindication after sleeping with one of them.
And it’s by no means just a way to feed into that whole “What if I can change him?” cliché. I don’t need any of these Trumpsters to actually like me. It’s merely because I’ve discovered that crazy political tension also makes for great sexual tension.
https://www.glamour.com/story/hooking-up-with-trump-voters-essay
