If They’re Voting For Mitt Romney, Don’t Have Sex With Them

Folks, we’ve all been on one of those dates where you find out you’re sleeping with the enemy. They like Grease and you’ve always been a Grease 2 kind of person — which sounds like crazy talk until you give into its wacky charms and Maxwell Caulfield’s smile. They’re a Britney, and you’re more of a Christina. They are Team Aniston and you just can’t help but like Angelina Jolie, even though you think that if she looked directly at you it might turn you to stone. Sometimes opposites attracting can be sexy, and you’re turned on by the fact that they love dubstep, which you don’t think is music; go rollerblading unironically; or are one of those people who still thinks that Crash deserved to win Best Picture. (Unheard of, I know.)  You might argue about the gay cowboys for a while, but in the end, you don’t know how to quit them.

However, this is election season, and things are different if their “little quirk” is a Romney/Ryan bumper sticker. You need to stop paying attention to dat ass for a moment and pay attention to dat electoral map. If you’ve seen the poll tracking numbers, you know that Romney and Obama are in a dead heat, which makes me nervous — because I’m too lazy to move to from my couch, let alone to Canada. Against my better judgment sometimes, I love this country, despite its adoration of Two and a Half Men, bacon ice cream and Adam Sandler, who America swears is funny. I will fight for it, even when it threatens to take Michelle Obama and Hilary Clinton away from me and makes me remember that there’s someone in the world called “Tagg Romney.” (I’m sorry, dude, that name sounds like a gay porn star or a bad off-brand cologne for bros.)

We need to win this thing — for Michelle and Hilary — and we can do that by simply cutting off all Romney voters from the ways of the secular flesh — possibly forever, if need be. Trust me. If every non-Romney voter in America promises to never again hook up with, have a casual sexual relationship with or even go to first with a Mitt supporter, our swing states will go Blue in a heartbeat. No one wants to give up that Liberal nookie. Do you think Ann Romney, Michele Bachmann or John Boehner even know how to spell Kama Sutra, let alone perform it? Just because the man’s last name is Boehner doesn’t mean he knows the first thing about how to use it.

So, whatever you do, don’t play rumpy-pumpy with the GOP. Don’t do it in the rain, on the train, in the dark, in a car, in a box or with a Fox News correspondent. Or if you want to take this Mean Girls style, don’t have sex with a Romney supporter, because you will get pregnant and have few options for your reproductive or sexual health. Don’t have sex in the missionary position, don’t have sex standing up, just don’t do it, OK. Promise?

Look, I know it’s hard to make such assurances. As Game of Thrones informed us, winter is coming, and half of us are trapped inside by Hurricane Sandy Bullock. We have needs that need to be met. We are young, girls just want to have fun, let’s get it on, and blah blah blah. You can use any song lyric excuse you want, but Pat Benatar (almost) said it best: love is a battleground state.

We have a week until we vote for the leader of the free world, until we decide whether or not we want to replace Barack Obama with Lucille Bluth, and during this time, I need you to think of Patty B and shag responsibly. Shag not just with your aching loins; shag with your conscience; shag with your brain; shag with the thought in the back of your head that your sexual actions could help determine the fate of the globe. You are like the Kofi Annan of getting it on, and the world needs you to be brave right now. Ask yourself: “What would Kofi do?” or “Would Kofi tap dat ass?” If the answer to the latter question is no, you need to channel your inner RuPaul and sashay away from that hot mess of intercourse. No sex is worth your political dignity.

If still you find yourself tempted by his Grand Old Penis or want to get in her magic underwear, there are a number of things you can think about for instant bonerkill. Binders full of women. The 47% of Americans who are, apparently, filthy, no-good freeloaders. Brownface. Corporate personhood. Airplane windows. Women in binders. When you’re having sex with a Romney voter, it’s not just so wrong it’s right. It’s so wrong it wants to take away your civil liberties and replace them with corporate tax breaks, Wal-Marts and Chick-fil-A sandwiches for everyone. Sure, you want to eat chocolate off his naked torso, but do you want to eat the bigoted poultry of a Romney presidency for four horrible, no-good, very bad years?  You don’t, and neither does Lorraine. Think of poor Lorraine. Think of the horses and bayonets. Think of Amercia, and you’ll remember there’s nothing sexy about Mitt Romney.

If you still need help not getting there, watch that Ann Romney SNL skit on repeat until you laugh so hard you pee a little bit. Now go clean yourself up, put on your sweats and watch some Parks and Recreation with your head held high. Your boner may be dead, but your self-respect will live on another day. You have done your country proud.