How Donald Trump Cost me a Boyfriend

trump-frowningIt’s been almost a year, so I figure it’s safe to write about this dating mishap. I had tentatively dipped my toe into online dating after a long absence and some unsatisfactory experiences. One of my first dates was a local man who was a few years my junior. We met for lunch at a popular restaurant and had a good time.

We kept in touch and made plans to meet a few days later at an evening work event I was hosting. Then we’d go out for drinks afterwards. The event was on November 9, 2016, the day after the presidential election.

During the day, I had a lot going on at the office. My date emailed me a few times, saying his grandson ended up needing unexpected surgery in another city, and his daughter wanted him to go along with her for support. He wasn’t sure he would be able to make it back in time for our date.

I knew he had a grandson, but he never mentioned he was ill. I was understanding and told him not to worry about trying to make it back in time. I wished him and his grandson the best.

He replied that he’d let me know his logistics as the day progressed. After a few more brief exchanges, he emailed me, saying that he wouldn’t be able to make our date because the surgery took longer than expected. Again, I sent my good wishes and said I hoped we could get together some other time.

That evening, after the event, a group of us wanted to go out and have a post-election debriefing/support session. None of us were Trump supporters, and like much of the nation, we were in shock at his election. I got home from that late and depressed, with no energy to turn on my computer and check for messages from my wayward man friend.

The next morning, I dragged myself into work and checked my email. It contained a nasty note from my date. I don’t remember the exact wording, but it was something snarky about my lack of communication skills and that he no longer wanted to date me.

It was bad enough having a president elected that I didn’t like, but now I was getting dumped, too!

Both things caught me off guard. Not to mention the irony that I am a professional communicator who was getting dumped for my lack of communication skills. 🙂

Although I had doubts about the veracity of his claim of a sick grandson, I gave the man the benefit of those doubts and, after taking time to collect my thoughts and rein in my feelings, apologized to him for not “being there” when he needed someone during a stressful time, and I explained my situation.

But I also thought it was a rather knee-jerk and severe punishment to break up with someone you just met because they weren’t attached to their email at all times. So I told him I would no longer be contacting him, either.

Despite all this, the person I’d really rather blame the whole thing on is Donald Trump. If he hadn’t been elected, I wouldn’t have needed a group therapy session, and thus might have had more time and energy to be attentive to my date.

So you can add my love life to the list of things the president has dismantled since his election.

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Another Dating Horror Story: The Johnny Carson Show Suit

“Johnny Carson Tonight Show 1965” by NBC Television. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

My most recent post, a dating horror story, received a lot of views, and comments from my Facebook friends. I decided to stay on this topic for one more post just for kicks –not because I am perfect. I’m sure I’ve had my share of dating gaffes, although I can’t recall any. Probably because I have blocked them out of my mind to maintain my shaky self-confidence. (Smile.)

This dating story happened many years ago when I was in college. Johnny Carson was the King of Late Night Television and Stephen Hawking had just published “A Brief History of Time.” You may not think these things are related, but they are — at least in the mind of my college student date.

Our first dinner was winding down and my date told me he had read Stephen Hawking’s book. It inspired him to develop his own theory of time, which he assured me was even better than Hawking’s. In fact, it was so good that my date was sure he would be invited as a guest on the Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show. He even knew what suit he would wear on the show – a brown one, I believe.

Of course, the dear boy was just trying to impress me. (I don’t think he was even a science major.) However, bravado is one thing, and grandiose delusions are another. We did not go on another date.

As far as I know, nobody else has bested Mr. Hawking’s theory of time. But it was nice that my date knew just what to wear if he ever became famous. We should all be so prepared!

We Only Shoot the Things We Love

A male wood duck. Image credit: “Brautente 2008-03-21 065” by BS Thurner Hof – Own work. Licensed under GFDL via Wikimedia Commons.


Dating horror stories – so miserable at the time but so fun to reminisce about after the dust has settled. And so fun to read. Here’s my contribution.

I met a man and after a few weeks visited his house for the first time. His place as well-cared for and impressive – until I got to the den. The walls were covered with taxidermied ducks. Now, I’m okay with hunting. I realize that meat needs to come from somewhere, and that hunting is sort of a dying art. But I soon discovered my date was hunting for a whole ‘nother reason.

His reason came to light when I couldn’t help but comment on the wood duck he had among his collection. Now, male wood ducks are like the Mr. Universe of the duck world. As you can see from the photo, they’re beautiful. They’re also rather rare in these parts. They nest in large holes in trees on the water. They don’t hurt anybody. And as faithful readers of my blog know, I have a thing for birds.

I made some sort of comment like – “Oh, and you’ve got a wood duck. They’re so beautiful….”

“That’s why I shot it,” he said.

Immediately, an irrational part of my woman dater’s brain thought: If this is what he does to things he finds beautiful, what will he do to things he loves? Heat-seeking missiles, maybe bombs? It reminded me of a quote from the poem by Oscar Wilde (“The Ballad of Reading Gaol”), “For each man kills the thing he loves…”

Of course, I know that there’s a big difference between killing a duck and killing a human, but try telling that to my primitive brain.

That relationship didn’t go very far.

The Planet Where They Don’t Give Christmas Presents

"Mars Hubble" by NASA and The Hubble Heritage Team. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

“Mars Hubble” by NASA and The Hubble Heritage Team. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

I wrote this poem about two years ago after a break up with a manfriend. I performed it at a public reading earlier this year. I didn’t know it going in, but the reading was judged. I was just performing the poem for practice. Although I didn’t win, if there had been an applause-o-meter on the premises, I would have won the popular vote based on that.

Caution: this entry contains mild profanity. Read at your own risk. It’s really best not to make me angry. I get my revenge in the most dangerous way: through poetry.

The Planet Where They Don’t Give Christmas Presents

This planet is mainly populated by men
who think it’s OK to date a woman for ten months
and NOT give her a Christmas present.

What is the name of this planet?
Planet Idiot.
Planet Asshole.
Planet I don’t want to live on this planet.

The inhabitants of this planet often
don’t want to spend New Year’s Eve
with their ladyfriend.
Or introduce them to their families.
Or sleep over at her house.
Or play with her dog.

I don’t want to live on this planet.

©2012 Marie Zhuikov