Commentary: My Date From GOP Hell

I felt like a prisoner in Camp American Arrogance. Anytime I tried to defend my point of view on anything—by using hand motions, trying to appeal to his greater sense of compassion, etc.—he’d roll his eyes and ignore me, then turn to the game playing on TV and then check out my legs. It made me feel like one of the women on Fox News that are having serious debates about important news stories, but have to show a lot of leg while they do it.

All this on a Saturday night.

At the end of the date, we walked to his Mercedes and he smiled as if we’d just had a great time and romantically opened the door to let me in. As he drove and talked about the car’s superiority at length, I’d had more than had enough. I started my escape, opening the door before he had even stopped in front of my building, in a classic move I’ve developed over the years, where my leg is hanging from a moving vehicle so that I am ready to jump out as soon as the car stops. It’s risky and you should only do this if you have amazing balance, which I do.

And that is how I said goodbye to my fire-breathing, gay-hating, global warming-denying, “date.” 

Every girl has had at least one date from hell, but you can always learn something from it. And what I learned is that if this is how Republicans reach out to Latinos, they will never never make elefantes out of the majority of us, who vote Democratic or Indpendent. That, and it’s the worst way to try to get laid. 

This piece is a reflection of the author's views and does not reflect the views or opinions of Latina Media Ventures.