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, I’m sorry to say, 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’s family wore MAGA hats. Harder to ignore was his conviction that if Clinton won, we would automatically go to war—with which country, he couldn’t say, but he was certain that a woman president would lead to war because…emotions, maybe? I have no idea. He was ill-informed, sexist, and loved to start arguments with me.
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 pushed aside his ingrained bigotry and instead let it wash over me, filling me with a desire to prove him wrong—or maybe to just be on top of him.
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