I have like, 3 or 4 other blog posts I’m working on, but I
felt it necessary to acknowledge the shit show of the century (in case you’ve
been blissfully oblivious to the severity of the situation at hand, Donald Mother-Fucking Trump was elected
president of the US last week, and the whole world is going mad). Also, I spent most of post-election day naked
in someone else’s bed, and that seemed post-worthy in and of itself.
The 2016 presidential election is finally over. No matter what your political standpoint,
we’ve all been waiting for this day; for the fucking political campaign ads to
stop, for the bickering, the arguing, the name-calling, the stupidity and the
madness to end. For some of us, however,
it feels as though the madness has just begun: The United States of America has
elected Donald Trump as president of the nation. What in the actual fuck?
Seriously though, what the fuck?
I mean, WHAT. THE. FUCK.
I voted last week Tuesday, like any self-appreciating
citizen would do. And then I went to
class, relieved that, for three hours, I would not be subject to any political
posts on Facebook, that I would not have access to the polling data as it came
through. But it was still in the back of
my mind, that, while discussing Professional Ethics in the Helping Professions,
voting was still ongoing; some states were beginning to close their polls, and
information about which candidate was leading in which state was trending. But I didn’t want to think about it, even
though it came up in conversation during break, and again at the end of
class. Luckily, I had solidified plans
with a friend to grab drinks and could avoid the noise for a bit longer.
However, while the company was brilliant and the drinks were
fantastic, discussion of the election inevitably emerged, and it wasn’t looking
good for us dirty liberals. Eventually, three of the
four girls I was with left, and I realized that I did not, under any
circumstances, want to go home and sit there, watching the madness unfurl. And while I love Scott, I was not in the mood
to go home and have an intellectual conversation regarding the plight of the
nation. No, this night was meant for
drinking.
As we were leaving the bar, I told the friend I was with
that I wasn’t ready to go home, that I wasn’t ready to face reality. She would have stayed to hang out, but had to
get up early and take on real responsibility, like most folks do. “I need friends in the restaurant
industry, who stay out late and don’t have to get up early!” Then I mentioned the Alcoholic, and that
maybe I could message him. She
encouraged me to do so, and I did. Shit.
This is the sort of logic that can only come from a couple of strong
Manhattans.
He invited me over, so I picked up a couple of bottles of
wine and headed to his place. He was
drunk as shit and high as a kite when I got there, but despite that, it was
good to see him. I hadn’t seen him since
we broke up back in April, and hadn’t even talked to him in several months, so
we had a lot to catch up on. He told me
the same story five times in my first 20 minutes there ("Did you know I went to San Francisco? You were supposed to come with me."). Still, I liked the comfort of being with
someone familiar. Standing in his
kitchen (well, I was standing, he was
wavering), he smiled and said it was good to see me. Then burst out with, “God DAMN, you’re
sexy!”
He never asked why I had contacted him, he just went with
it. Probably he was just as lonely as I,
and savored being in the company of someone who gave a shit. He mostly talked about himself, but I didn’t
care. He bugged me to pull up the
election stats, and at that point (maybe 12:00, 1:00 in the morning) it was really not looking good. We were both rooting for Hillary, for better
or for worse. He kept demanding that I
refresh the page, like somehow that was going to change the reality of the
situation.
Despite the political talk, and his drunkenness, we managed
to reignite our spark. I know he was
inebriated, and probably would have fucked anything that walked into his
apartment, but I was flattered that he was still attracted to me. He could barely stand up straight, but kissed
me and told me I was beautiful and that he had missed me. And I fell for it. What can I say? I’m a hopeless sap. We drank a bottle and a half of the wine and
eventually made it to bed.
And then I woke up Wednesday morning, to a text from a
friend that simply said “No.” The
Alcoholic woke up also, and demanded that I check the news. There it was: Trump won- his big, fat, ugly,
smug face taunting me as I read the headline.
I was in shock, disbelief that this was real life. The Alcoholic kept yelling “Fuck!” and we
both just looked at each other, helpless and hopeless and pissed right the fuck
off. How??? Why?
How??? We were both upset, but
what could we do? Instead of accepting reality, we went back to sleep. And
then fucked. And drank more wine. And fucked again. And avoided dealing with the world, or
any real responsibility, until he had to work at 5:00.
After dropping him off at work, I drove home to clean up and
then ran to the store to buy groceries.
Cooking puts me in my “happy place,” so I intended to lose myself in my
own culinary bliss for the evening. I
still hadn’t processed anything- the election results, hooking up with the
Alcoholic. I couldn’t. Nothing made sense at this point.
So now, for the past week, I’ve been trying to piece things
together. Every day, the news is more
and more grim; learning about all of the hate-fueled aggressions being acted
out across the country, and hearing that Trump intends to fill his office with
some of the most despicable human beings in the country have left me in a
perpetual state of despair. I want to do
something to change what is happening in the world around me, but I don’t know
what to do and I don’t know where to start. I had thought that, once the election was
over, we could go back to being a country of civilized individuals and come
together, as a nation, to repair the damage done over the past few months. But instead, I fear for everyone I love; for
my parents, who may not get the opportunity to enjoy their retirement; for my
lesbian, black, disabled friends, that they’re being bullied, now that hate has
become the norm; for my sister and other empathizers who have been feeling
completely and utterly broken for the past 10 days.
On top of all of this, I’m dealing with my own personal
issues regarding the Alcoholic. Over the
past year, he crossed my mind frequently, and several times I had contemplated
texting him just to see what’s up. But I
always stopped myself from doing so, because that would just be plain
dumb. I don’t need him or his drama or
his drunkenness in my life. But… maybe I WANT it! I didn’t really realize how
much I missed him until he was standing (or wobbling) in front of me. Spending the day with him last week, it was
comfortable to talk with him, kiss him, call him “baby” like I did when we were
together. I never said that I wanted to
get back together with him- in fact, it really wasn't discussed. When he was drunk, he told me that he didn’t
want to rush into anything, but then when he was sober, he asked if I was going
to marry him and have his brown babies.
So… I got nothing. But good god,
he’s gorgeous. And lost. And you know how I’m a sucker for the broken
ones.
Regarding the fate of the country, I’m trying to keep a sort
of naïve optimism about the whole situation.
It’s like we’ve been given a medical diagnosis: “The bad news: it’s cancer. The good news: it’s treatable, and will
likely be gone in four years.” But the
initial shock, I have cancer, is
distressing. And the “healing” process is
going to be slow and painful, and we’re going to all have to pitch in and medicate
ourselves with kindness, uplift one another, and support the good guys, and
peacefully protest the bad guys, and donate money and time to causes that are dear to us, and
love one another because we all deserve to be treated with compassion.
You guys, the bottom line is, we’re not going to die.
That’s one thing I feel pretty confident about.
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