A couple of months ago, I met the most perfect man. Is that an overstatement? I mean, can one man be more perfect than another? That would make the other less than perfect, wouldn't it? Ach! He's got me so confused!
Fireman Jeremy had eyes so blue, you could fly an airplane in them. He was such a gentleman, too! He always opened doors for me, and he never complained when I burned the steak tartare. And oh, those buns of steel! I could just eat him up!
Not the buns of steel, obviously - a girl could break a tooth trying to take a bite out of that! I'm, uhh, not being weird about it, either: Jeremy had a plate put in his ass in his early 20s on account of a tragic beer pong accident at university. Try eating that, and you'd be getting a cease and desist letter from your orthodontist!
So, uhh, yeah. When we started dating, he would say things like ICES was taking policing immigration a little too far, and sinking foreign fishing boats was taking the war on drugs a little too far, and withholding infrastructure funding from Dumbopratic states was taking political revenge a little too far. It seemed to me then that we were politically on the same page (P for "progressive"). I would soon find out that we weren't even in the same library!
A week and a half after we met, I caught Jeremy reading Alex Jonesenforrahit's InfomercialWars. He said it was just "to research the opposition." Okay. Maybe. But a couple of days later, when I suggested it would be romantic if we got flu shots together, he sneered that somebody who really cared for him wouldn't ask him to put vaccine poison in his body.
When we were out shopping a few days after that and I complained about the price of asparagus yogurt, Jeremy said it was Joe Bidenhisbeeswax's economy, that President McDruhitmumpf was doing his best to fix it and we should cut him some slack. Just yesterday, Jeremy spent 23 minutes explaining to me why the United States needed to own Greenland, lock, stock and smoking walruses, and all I had said was please pass the poached broccoli!
Oh, Amritsar Tech Answer Guy! Could the buns of steel have been a lie?
Yo, Moms Mabely (ask your Grans),
I hate to be the one to break it to you, but sometimes you just have to rip off the bandage and swallow it quickly: you've been a victim of stealth MVGA.
Put yourself in Fireman Jeremy's position: all the hot MVGA babes have been hired by either the McDruhitmumpf administration or Foxindehenhaus News; those who haven't are often married to social media influencers. What's a lonely MVGA fireman to do? If he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life worshipping busty blond goddesses in fashion magazines just before falling asleep, he has to look for potential partners outside the MVGA base.
MVGA firemen may not be the brightest bulbs in the burning Christmas tree, but they know that if they are up front about their politics on the first date, they'll never get a second date. After three or four or 17 such experiences, with fashion magazines beckoning, they'll start to nod politely when a new date talks about what's going wrong with human rights, and they'll laugh respectfully when you compare Stephen Siewnottmillertyme to Nosferatu.
Of course, they cannot keep the deception up for very long. The conflict between what they're agreeing to and what they actually believe creates what psychologists and hot dog farmers refer to as cognitive dissidents. Cognitive dissidents throw polemical bombs at progressive beliefs, reducing them to a hot steaming pile of fluorescent green poop sticks.
My advice? Get a dog. A Dumbopratic one.
The Tech Answer GuyFirst off, eww!
Second, why did you answer my question? It was meant for Amritsar. You know, the female advice columnist who deals specifically with questions about relationships?
Mabel Melatonelocine
What can I say? Some advice columnists don't understand the concept of boundaries!
Send your relationship problems to the Alternate Reality News Service's sex, love and technology columnist at questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Amritsar Al-Falloudjianapour is not a trained therapist, but she does know a lot of stuff. AMRITSAR SAYS: Getting yourself a Dumbopratic dog might not be a bad idea. A poodle, perhaps, or a chihuahua. Stay away from rottweilers - fascist bastards!