I've become obsessed with this election.
I won't tell you whom I'm supporting - just assume I agree with you so you can get through reading this.
I stay up late reading every new article and poll; my Twitter timeline reads like the water cooler at every major newspaper and not-so-major online rag; I listen to five different political podcasts on rotation; and I watch more cable news than your grandma.
There's only one area of my life left to get the political filter:
I want a partisan boyfriend.
If any guy wants to date me before Nov. 8, we need to agree about this election.
I'm not advocating for this, I'm merely confessing to it. To those in an interparty relationship, I tip my hat to you. You have your priorities straight.
Well, one of you does.
In general, I don't think ill of the opponent's supporters. Everyone has different needs, perspectives, and opinions, and I respect their views.
I'm just not taking my clothes off for that view.
So until Nov. 9, I'm friend-zoning the other team.
I need a break from the constant contentiousness, and it's so much easier if we're on the same page.
Plus, what's more attractive than a man who already admits you're right?
We can exchange eye-rolls over the slanted coverage and share a laugh over all the same memes.
Forget Netflix, I want to CNN and chill.
We'll watch the debates cuddled under a cozy blanket, and he'll hold me during the scary parts. Then, when it's over, the mood will be set - either by the thrill of victory or the frisson of the impending apocalypse.
And my partisan boyfriend won't criticize that hyperbole, because he'll be right there with me.
True love is being heavily biased in your partner's favor.
I'm not the only one who feels this way. Many dating apps have offered photo filters and stickers to let you announce your fierce partisanship - but in a fun way!
My friends who don't want to turn their selfies into campaign propaganda instead mention their affiliation in their bios.
I also have friends who subsequently took it out of their bios because they received too many hateful, trolling messages from fans of the other candidate.
Women on dating apps expect to be harassed with lewd sexual come-ons, but partisan insults?
Please, have some decency.
Just as we may irrationally apply bad traits to those who disagree with us, I irrationally project good qualities onto those who share my views. I find myself googling my favorite pundits and reporters' marital status.
Just my luck, my political crushes are gay or married. All the best pundits are taken!
(Actually, one is single, and I hope he has noticed my pointed liking of all his tweets.)
Recently, one of my friends helped host a fund-raiser for our candidate. I went to support the cause and take advantage of the target-rich environment for finding the ideologue of my dreams.
I dressed as hot as is acceptable for the politically conscious. I aspired to look like Scandal's Olivia Pope during sweeps week.
Through my political beer goggles, all the men there were attractive. They seemed smarter, more sensitive, and more thoughtful than most. I knew they respected me and my opinions, and I appreciated that. What better foundation for a relationship than shared goals and worldviews?
And, wow, donating to a political campaign? That showed they cared about others and had disposable income. I was impressed.
And I hadn't even talked to one yet.
Knowing we had at least one thing in common, I was more outgoing. I struck up a conversation with a well-dressed, sophisticated man standing by the cheese plate. We got to talking about campaign strategy.
And at some point, through my fog of preapproval, I noticed he was lecturing me. He seemed to think he knew exactly what our candidate should do. He asked me only rhetorical questions to set up his next point. And he didn't ask my opinion at all.
I guess he thought he didn't have to.
I practiced my debate-podium smile as he speechified, but I was thinking he didn't look sophisticated as much as he looked too old for me. He seemed more capable of pedantry than insight. I wondered if he was ever going to stop talking.
Where's a good moderator when you need him?
Eventually, I escaped to the bar.
Nov. 8 can't come soon enough.