Ah, Valentine’s Day. For many singles, it’s time for well-meaning loved ones to pester singles about dating. Time to suppress aching feelings when walking past Tiffany’s. Time to slurp pink punch and stumble home alone.
As a rather happily single New Yorker, those things don’t worry me. You see, I’ve become pickier about men. Surrounded by liberals here in the home of hipster Brooklyn and Occupy Wall Street, as a conservative with years of dating lefties, I’m unabashedly declaring my freedom.
“You unromantic cur, how dare you discriminate against someone for their political beliefs?” collectivist America shouts. “You’re shutting yourself off to the magical, unknowable algorithmic elixir of love! Good riddance!”
Here in the Big Apple, I meet conservative guys who say they’re shot down by liberal women over politics. Conservative author S.E. Cupp gives lusty details of a young Manhattan man (an amalgam of several people) who fails to seduce a woman who “can’t get off under a poster of George W. Bush.” Yes, that’s weird you have his visage in your room, but buck up, Dubya fan! You dodged unsexy pillow talk about why one-percenters are the devil and how Che Guevara is a hottie.
Obviously, not all liberal women are that hardline (including many close friends of mine). And there’s no point stereotyping liberals as non-showering, socks-with-sandals, wussy granola types. That’s as lame as stereotyping conservatives as gun-obsessed, uncreative, heartless jerks who enjoy tossing orphans into the streets.
