Originally written during Donald Trump’s first presidency, this personal essay inspired my book, Love in the Age of Trump: How Politics Is Polarizing Relationships. Revised October 2026.

I grew up believing that love conquers all, but in this current political climate, I fear that Donald Trump has destroyed romance as it once existed.

I’m a dating coach in the business of love, so I’ve seen firsthand the strain on people’s relationships, including mine, when Trump 1.0 ran for and eventually became president.

During his first campaign, I found myself on the opposite end of the political spectrum from the man I thought was the love of my life. He was on the right, and I was on the left.

Initially, this didn’t alarm me, but over time, the division began to tear us apart.

Once upon a time, two decades ago, we lived the fairy tale.

We fell in love at first sight. Several years later, we went our separate ways. I wanted a wedding ring, and he wasn’t ready. Eventually, we married others and lost touch.

Then in 2015, both divorced, we found our way back through Facebook chat, proving that a love so strong could never die.

We began sending each other digital versions of photos neither of us had tossed away. His were stored in an attic, while mine collected dust in a garage. Nervously, we agreed to meet and instantly realized the spark was still there.

“We have the greatest story,” he proudly announced to my girlfriends when we reunited. I felt the same.

When his curated mix of love songs arrived in the mail, two hearts reunited, and we resumed our romantic journey for a second chance at love.

After a decade and a half apart, we were, admittedly, different people with dissimilar lifestyles. I was an urban girl living in Los Angeles who frequented the desert city of Palm Springs. He was living in a post-divorce rental home one hour north in Ventura County and thrived in the mountains of Idaho. Geography wasn’t an obstacle, and as a couple, we seemed to coexist in each other’s favorite places with ease.

Blissfully, we started to merge our lives, with music as our backdrop. My boyfriend accompanied me to the Walt Disney Concert Hall to watch Gustavo Dudamel conduct the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Looking handsome, he wore an Italian sports jacket, with his sparkling hazel eyes matching mine. I went to the Stagecoach Country Music Festival with him, wearing my Stetson cowboy hat. We posted photos online from both, looking deliriously happy.

“I’m sorry I never proposed to you back then,” he said one evening. My heart instantly started to race. Was he about to get down on one knee with a ring?

Apparently not yet.

Although my boyfriend had a history of commitment issues, our renewed love was growing stronger as we created new memories together. That was until the heated election season rolled in, when, seemingly out of nowhere, our relationship began to fray, and our perfect world abruptly started to crumble.

“I can’t take another four years of Clintons,” he mumbled while pouring himself a martini.

“Don’t tell me you’d vote for Trump,” I yelled, losing my appetite.

Once a registered Democrat, during our time apart, my boyfriend had shifted his support to the conservative side. He also hated the fact that Hillary Clinton was running for president.

Throughout the campaign, people were taking sides, and the effects began to permeate the bedroom. Couples were splitting up in “you’re fired” style. The great political divide was crushing relationships, including ours.

In a time of angry accusations of “fake news,” I was living in an all-too-real, fake relationship hanging by a thread. I was in deep conflict, believing we were the poster couple for eternal love. I didn’t want to let our story die, so I buttoned my lips when he brought up his anti-liberal views and rolled my eyes when he praised “The Donald.”

When election coverage became a 24-hour reality show, that’s when I noticed his attitude and values contrasted sharply with mine. I believed in gun control and Obamacare, and he was proud of his gun closet and supported the “big, beautiful wall.”

I thought we could just agree to disagree as my parents did, but it was clear our relationship was in jeopardy.

“Turn off the TV,” he firmly said as I watched the Democratic debates. Real Time with Bill Maher was off-limits. I asked, “Really? I can’t watch one of my favorite talk shows?” Instead, we settled on romantic comedies on demand, curled up together, as a truce.

I felt the polarizing conflict between love and politics continue to grow. As a woman with a big, public voice, I remained quiet just to keep the fairy tale alive.

Although I didn’t force my viewpoints on him, my boyfriend verbally attacked me and called me a liberal feminist. I tried to understand why I would accept being in a subpar relationship where my opinions didn’t matter.

One month before the 2016 election, we officially became a long-distance couple. My boyfriend moved to Las Vegas, and I stayed in Los Angeles. With 300 miles between us, and Trump looking over my shoulder, it was challenging to stay connected. I visited him to see the Rolling Stones in concert. He came my way for Stevie Nicks.

Then Donald Trump surprised us both by winning the election.

Shortly after the election, with tensions still high, he escorted me to a Hollywood party where both of us arrived dressed in purple, representing unity during a combative time.

On Inauguration Day, his eyes were glued to the television, and I couldn’t bear to watch. My boyfriend was as excited about Trump being sworn in as he’d be if he scored an eagle on his favorite golf course.

Then I asked myself, can our love survive Trump?

Here I was, with a man who believed our country’s new leader would make America great again, while I checked Trump’s daily tweets, now a primary source of news, watching my blood pressure rise. It was clear my guy didn’t want a girlfriend on the left, and I couldn’t express my feelings freely.

Still, a few weeks later, on Valentine’s Day, my beloved did not disappoint. He curated the perfect 48-hour love fest, and the cloud of politics never made it to the bedroom.

A true romantic, he drove four hours and brought me one dozen long-stemmed red roses, hand-picked from his favorite florist. We later dined at an ocean-view table at Shutters in Santa Monica, where we had reunited two years earlier. Together, we posted photos of us on the beach on social media and still felt in love.

It was our last night together as a couple.

 Three days later, we called it quits. Since my boyfriend had moved out of state, I tried to convince myself distance caused the split, but it was differing politics and the associated party values that slowly killed us.

He initially suggested taking a break, but I knew “break” was just half of the word “breakup.” It was over.

Our president became my boyfriend’s new hero, mirroring the commander-in-chief’s beliefs and behavior. He wanted to consider an open relationship, while I wanted a loving, monogamous commitment.

It crushed us, but much to my surprise, I wasn’t devastated.

During the time our country became so politically divided, we had changed. My emotions went from sad to mad. Eventually, I started to feel empowered, and my voice reemerged.

After our romance ended, I decided it was time to look for someone on my side. Luckily, I quickly met a political junkie who lived in town, online on Match. He listed himself as liberal in his dating profile, which was enough for me to click the reply button.

Our first dinner date was at a harbor-view restaurant in the Marina. A good sport, he drove over an hour in heavy traffic from downtown LA, looking distinguished in a business suit and tie. I felt immediately at ease.

Did you vote for Trump?” he asked.

“No,” I quickly replied, and we both sighed with relief.

My new date told me he wouldn’t date a Trump supporter, and it was a dealbreaker for both of us. As we talked about our nation’s challenges, we clicked.

I admired my brilliant date for helping Dreamers and for his belief in stronger gun control laws. We talked about Obamacare, tax reform, net neutrality, and immigration issues plaguing sanctuary cities.

Call me a sapiosexual, but his intellect was an aphrodisiac, and our conversations lasted for hours. The floodgates opened, and in time, so did my heart.

Who knew that shared political leanings and Saturday Night Live monologues could top a mutual desire for dark chocolate?

Because we were in sync, we advanced to a second date, then a third, and eventually lost count.

Talking about politics in Trump’s America became vital to me. I worried about our country, but I didn’t regret reuniting with my former beau. While I realized our deep history and unconditional love brought us back together, it was a huge relief not to have that burning “what if” question circling in my head.

However, love is conditional, with politics now residing atop the dating totem pole. As disappointed as I was with our president, I had him to thank for this realization.

And I learned a valuable lesson when my love life got “trumped.” I spent close to six years watching Bill Maher’s monologues in the arms of a man who appreciated my strong voice, and I am forever grateful to have been heard.

Julie Spira
Author, Love in the Age of Trump: How Politics Is Polarizing Relationships