We already knew that adjudicated rapist criminal fraud Donald Trump is bad at everything, so it was no surprise to learn from Stormy Daniels that he was cringingly awful at sex.
While she’s not done testifying—her cross-examination by Trump’s team will continue tomorrow—Stormy’s description of her blessedly brief encounter with Captain Mushroom has done plenty of damage already.
His bungled attempts at seduction included greeting her dressed in “silk or satin” pajamas. Daniels testified that she openly mocked Donny Thin Skin immediately by asking if he’d stolen them from Hugh Hefner. She told him to change, and when he did, it was down to an undershirt and boxers.
What happened after that sounds a tad date-rapey, because while he didn’t threaten or “forcibly penetrate” her, Daniels said she felt like she might black out despite not having any drugs or alcohol in her system. It was all over in a matter of seconds, and he didn’t use a condom.
But it was the revelation that he told Daniels that she reminded him of his daughter, Ivanka, before they had sex, that has us all vomiting in our mouths. “You remind me of my daughter, let’s fuck” is the least sexy thing I can think of hearing.
Just, eeeeewwwwww.
“You remind me of my daughter” shouldn’t really be associated with anything that gets anywhere near incest, but then again, Trump is a disgusting rapey bucket of predatory shit.
As soon as I heard that, it reminded me of a brief chat I had with a guy on a dating app when I was still in my 40s and trying to find a boyfriend, a time I refer to as “The Optimistic Years.” I have a fairly steadfast rule to not date any man who has the same name as my father (Michael), stepfather (Fred), ex-husband aka “The Wasband” (Jason), ex-boyfriend/irreplaceable love of my life (Kelly), or either of my sons (Jack and Ben). I realize that leaves out a major segment of the male population, but also I live in Portland, where my personal dating pool is a half-empty thimble of rancid standing water with a few cigarette butts floating in it, so I’m not missing out on much.
But ANYWAY, this one time there was a really great-looking guy with a very funny profile. He checked all the boxes for me, except his name was Jason. The Wasband. Ick.
I mentioned it to a friend who told me to get over it, maybe he had a nickname or something. So I swiped right and we matched immediately, which means he had already swiped right on me. This is an important detail.
I messaged him and said something like, “Hi, so you have the same name as my ex-husband, but your profile was so great that I won’t hold that against you.”
He replied immediately. “That’s so funny! Especially since I have a daughter named Tara.”
And that’s when I lost my ladyboner. It was bad enough that he had my ex’s name, but the daughter thing was way too gross for me. He had seen that my name was Tara and was fine with it. Who wants to call out their own kid’s name in bed? Just, no. We never met, the end.
So yeah, on top of everything else we can call Trump, he’s a full-on Freudian nightmare. Does “Freudian Fascist” make sense? I just like alliteration.
Shifting gears, I have fully embraced my Tortured Poets Era, listening to TTPD on an endless loop (it’s playing at this very moment). I don’t know if there are any other Swifties reading this (announce yourselves if you’re there!) but along with teaching the world how to correctly pronounce “Puth,” she’s once again delivered a couple of new titles to add to my ever-growing iTunes playlist called THEME SONGS.
“Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” is me in so many ways.
The other one is “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart,” which knocked me sideways when I first heard it because no one ever knows what another person is carrying while they present their shiny happy smile to the world.
'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit
They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did
Lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die
He said he'd love me all his life
But that life was too short
Breaking down, I hit the floor
All the pieces of me shattered as the crowd was chanting, "More"
I was grinning like I'm winning, I was hitting my marks
'Cause I can do it with a broken heart
I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day
I'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague
I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art
You know you're good when you can even do it
With a broken heart
I can’t explain why this is me because it would involve sharing things that are no one’s business. Just trust me when I say it’s so me, it belongs in my Top Ten Theme Songs Of All Time. Maybe even the Top 5. Because at the very end, she says “I’m so miserable! And no one even knows!” in a self-deprecating laughing-at-herself-through-tears tone that I know about all too well.
This #SwiftieOver50 has been in awe of Taylor’s lyrics for a full decade now. When I heard “Blank Space” in 2014 as I was trying to navigate dating, a woman a full 20 years younger than I am fully nailed the entire bullshit mess in a simple couplet:
Find out what you want/Be that girl for a month
I remember thinking, How does she know about that at 25 when I’m only learning about it now at 45?
Someday, I’m going to meet Taylor Swift and give her a copy of The Sound of Settling because I want her to direct an episode of the eventual streaming series my readers have been demanding along with the sequel. Have you seen the “Fortnight” video? She has a director’s eye. I loooove her.
Friends, WE ARE MANIFESTING. So if anyone out there can help out with that, I’ll dedicate my next book to you. Not even kidding. If you can’t, just sharing The Sound of Settling on your socials could make a difference. You never know who might see it! I’m exhausted! Let’s go!
Apropos of something, but not much, back in my days of being a bit of a cad who could not settle, I realized one day that I had dated multiple women named "Barbara." These were not at the same time, of course.
Thinking it over, they had nothing in common other than the name. It was not a generational thing either, since one was fifteen years my senior (she insisted on being called "Barbie," which I was less than enthusiastic about) and one was about five years younger. I have been unable to establish a pattern, other than that I was dating too many women.
We live in a time and place when names are largely meaningless and almost random. Gone are the days when folks might have descriptive names like "Mangas Coloradas" or "Bertha Bigfeet," instead, if you come across the name "Stu," you really know nothing else about them.
This said, I can understand your rule about names. I can see how this might get awkward or spooky.
If I trust in you, oh please
Don't run and hide
If I love you too, oh please
Don't hurt my pride like her
'Cause I couldn't stand the pain
Lennon was 24, McCartney was 22.
Agree with everything yon said.