The Trump Chump

Though I wasn’t immediately attracted to Anthony when I first came across his profile on Bumble, I do have an insatiable gravitation towards intelligence, and being that he went to Harvard I figured he would at least be a promising candidate for (finally) some intriguing conversation. *Right swipe*.

Anthony and I settled into a high top table at an intimate cocktail bar in Yorkville, and I was pleasantly surprised to find him more attractive in person. I asked about how his day went and we both offered up the customary generic responses and gave the waitress our drink order.

“So let’s get right into the political thing. What is your take on all of this? Who do you support?” He asked immediately.

I stand by the general rule of not talking about politics, religion or exes on a first date, but for fear of seeming unyielding, I decided to indulge him with a slightly vague opinion of my political views.

“I don’t support Trump or Hillary. Gary Johnson would be my pick. I know he will not win but it is a step toward doing away with the whole ‘dual party’ system that I don’t think is beneficial.  So is your family still in Chicago?” I replied attempting to move the conversation from a potential political debate.

Anthony then climbed high atop his soap box and proceeded to shove endless political jargon down my throat about how Donald Trump is the appropriate candidate to ‘make American great again,’ and how I am doing my country a severe disservice by wasting my ballot on someone that is polling below 15%.

After I finished my first (and only) Elderflower martini, Anthony suggested we grab a bite to eat. Not wanting to spend another minute  being bombarded with his ultra-conservative bureaucratic opinions, I told him I had already eaten.

We exited the bar and I grabbed my cell phone to summon an Uber.

“I live 10 blocks south of here so if you are taking the tunnel would I be able to jump in the cab with you?” He asked.

“Yes, that is fine,” I said.

It was at that moment that it occurred to me the that Barack Obama was in town at the UN and the traffic was positively horrendous all week.

“Actually, I forgot about the General Assembly at the UN. It will probably be at least an hour cab ride so I will probably just jump on the 6 train.”

“OK,” he said. “I will just come with you.”

Slightly irritated that I had to continue engaging him in conversation for yet another 15 minutes, we made it to the train station. I swiped my metro card and entered through the turn style to wait for my proverbial escape chariot.

“Oh, my metro card is out of money. Do you think you can just swipe me in?” He asked.

“You don’t just want to refill your card? Aren’t you going to need it to get to work tomorrow anyways?”

“No I actually have to work up in the Connecticut office all week so I will be carpooling with someone.”

Annoyed, I surrendered my metro card to him to evade hearing him speak more than I had to.

Thankfully the train came promptly and I was free at last.

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