Hi there. I should probably introduce myself. But I gather you're not here to go through formalities. Neither am I really.  To wit, some red meat…

I just went on a date with a woman who works for the Obama campaign. I decided I was going to vote for McCain about six months ago, after reconciling my disappointment at Biden's dismal ousting from the Democratic primary. This is generally not a good thing to bring up on dates. But tonight I was bored so after half an hour of small talk and wanly inquiring about life canvassing for Obama, I let fly my socio-political heresy. I'm voting for a senile warmonger who believes in corporate greed, cronyism, xenophobia, sexual repression, and the abolition of women's rights. You want to go back to my place?

I was kind of hoping this would be my way out of the date. It's funny, you can spend so much time and energy emailing with someone, flirting in text, imagining how great they are, and within five seconds of meeting them be totally turned off and ready to call the whole thing off as a big misunderstanding. Is there a polite way to summarize that reaction and just hit the eject button after giving it an earnest go for a half hour? Probably, but I can't do it. I'm too passive. I don't like the idea of letting someone know that I'm not attracted to them. It makes me squirm.

In a more efficient world people would intuit the lack of sexual energy being exchanged on a first date and be able to mutually agree it's time to part company. Attraction isn't about a mutual exchange of sexual energy, it's about imbalance. The more aloof and disinterested one person is, the more fixated the other becomes. I've been on plenty of dates where I was on the losing end of this equation for one reason or another, so when I realized that I wasn't listening to what L was saying anymore but staring blankly at her cheeks while composing an email in my head I knew it was time to get out.

I thought making the McCain confession would settle things. The conversation would turn icy and subtly confrontational. L's eyes would narrow, looking more critically at my clothes in between sentences, and in a few minutes we would both be ready to get the check. Instead she demurred and told me some hootenanny about how she used to be a Republican and didn't actually know all that much about Obama in the first place. Hmm. This can't be the same person that off-handedly told me McCain was Satan incarnate ten minutes earlier. So I ramble on and on about political disengagement, populism, and ESPN. I can feel myself getting limper as I traipse down this line of thought, confusing myself at the end of each inconclusive point.

We wound up talking for another hour. I felt wholly confused. I just wanted to go home. It's not that I didn't believe what I was saying, I just wasn't saying it to have a genuinely meaningful exchange. I guess L liked me and was interested in hearing what I had to say.

I finally pulled myself together enough to throw out a limpid excuse about it getting late and still having some work to do. We walked outside and had a good long hug. L lingered, she wanted me to be the first one to turn around and leave. She wanted me to hug her a second time, to lean in and kiss her. Being aloof and disinterested can be surprisingly compelling. Being pliable and inquisitive isn't quite as affecting. So I plucked up my courage, turned on my heel and walked away. "Give me a call sometime if you want to hang out," I offered, wondering if the words sounded genuine. I wonder if she'll ever call.

Meanwhile, Biden appears to be the frontrunner for Obama's VP spot and my faith in my own politics is shaken to the core. It only takes a handful of seconds to decide, and then decide again.