Is this allowed?
On dating a conservative in a polarized world
In December 2022, I was walking home from a first date, sending a voice note to my friend.
“I really like him! But he’s conservative. Can I date a conservative?”
It turned out the answer was yes.
This is unusual in both of our social circles (which, when they come together at a party, can create some beautiful unspoken friction and unexpected friendships). I assumed I would be ostracized for my choice — maybe everyone is lying to me, but most people don’t really seem to care. If they do, it doesn’t change how we interact all that much. If they are quietly stewing well, I think that’s on them.
People do ask, “How does that work?” and mostly, I don’t have a great answer. It works because it just does.
But maybe this is why: my identity is no longer built around my “personal politics”. I am a writer and a comedian; my chief interests are free speech, humour, beauty and creative freedom. I have political beliefs, but they are not part of how I identify myself to the world.
When I met my boyfriend, I was on a Charlotte York style mission for The One. I knew what I wanted and I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t want a family and a monogamous marriage.
Almost any explicitly left wing single man I met or dating profile I swiped past did not scream “dad material” and most very explicitly screamed “polyamorous!”
When I was deep in the trenches of identifying as a Leftist, I had the standard “no cops, no conservatives” disclaimer on my profile. Not really due to a genuine preference, but as a signifier, a signal to members of my tribe, should they come across my profile, that I was left wing and cool and had the right (left) politics. But it never really yielded what I was looking for. Left wing guys have broken my heart many times. A man is a man is a man.
When I began taking my art seriously, and then again when I began taking my search for love seriously, politics ceased to be the organizing principle of my life. I still have principles and convictions, but I do not organize my life or relationships around them.
We are fairly unusual in our relationship, at least by the standards of today — politically different, but sharing a religious faith. This was the case for most couples in the West in the 20th century, but has become vanishingly rare. Politics is the new religion. So dating someone from across the aisle is unfathomable, or assumed to be extremely high conflict, a difference usually only emerging after the couple has fallen in love and lived through the last ten years of political tumult.
But I already knew where he stood by the end of the first date. And I felt sure that this was someone with whom I could talk for hours, who’d recently watched and enjoyed my favourite movie (Annie Hall), who loved New York and expensive cocktails and living in a city as much as I did, who drew me in and intrigued me. There is something otherworldly and mysterious about that early chemistry. What exactly is it that absorbs you in a person, distracts you while you’re watching a movie at the theatre or trying to send emails, eating all your other tasks and duties.
There’s something freeing about spending time with someone you already know you disagree with on certain topics — instead of worrying about saying the wrong thing or violating the in-group orthodoxy, I was thrilled to discover we agreed on things, the unexpected common ideas and passions of political misfits on different sides of the political spectrum.
I love disagreeing with my boyfriend about politics.
In matters personal and domestic, we align closely. Our taste in arts and culture, while different, have plenty of overlap. And in the matter of practical choices and day to day values (where to live, what to cook for dinner, how we should spend our money, where to go to church) we mostly agree. We both love libraries, rapid transit, used bookstores and the joy of living near a good local coffee shop, a public park and a few good restaurants — kind of what I assumed the imaginary leftist boyfriend would care about.
In a way, I did get my “The One” the way Charlotte did — in finding romance and true intimacy with an unexpected person.
Hi! I think we used to follow each other on Twitter lol? Anyway, your Substack popped up in my feed.
This topic is so interesting to me and immediately reminds me of a job I had before covid. I stuck out as the only leftist in a fairly conservative place (with a few liberals). Growing up, I associated conservatives with people who are against my very existence as a gay man. But that didn’t matter to them. In fact, my coworkers and I often agreed about the issues and just differed in how we thought to address them.
Your comment about the known differences taking the wind out of potentially saying the wrong thing rang true for me too— and I was often pleasantly surprised when I found something we agreed on. The lack of pressure to toe the line was freeing in a way. I also previously was very upfront about my politics online and while I do still hold my values dear, I am much more willing to engage with people beyond that echo chamber and I think I am better for it.
I feel like therapy is the new religion... more so than politics in my little corner of the world. I have so many friends who in their late thirties have gone down all kinds of therapy holes, from CBT, to EMDR, guided mdma or hallucinogen therapy, reiki, etc. and came out the other side evangelists for all types of dumb shit.