The Girl Of My Dreams (Or So I Thought)

The other day I picked up an Uber passenger, this story is about her.

I pulled up to her work, waited outside a couple of minutes, then saw her walking towards my car. And ohmygod, this was one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen.

I fell completely in love with this girl within the first five minutes of the car ride. Her long blonde hair waved in the wind from the rolled down windows. Her bright green eyes glimmered in the sunlight. Her pearly white smile, so big and so genuine, lit up my world.

She told me about how she had just moved down to the area after graduating college. Told me her career aspirations. And it turned out we had a lot in common. It was magical. It really, really was.

The car ride was long, but not quite long enough. I pulled up in front of her house and it appeared that our encounter was over.... but, maybe not. We had been flirting a lot on the ride...so, I decided to ask for her number. She gave it to me with a big smile. The ten digit code spilled into the air and blessed my phone like holy water.

We said our goodbyes and went on with our day. But I couldn't stop thinking about her. I dreamt that night about her smile, her eyes, her voice, her smell... her booty.

I waited two days and then sent her a text. We got to talking and ended up scheduling to meet up for dinner that night.

Blah, blah, blah. We ate dinner. Got some drinks. Hit it off. Went walking down the street. And then I drove her home.

We pull up to her house. She turns to me and asks, "want to come inside?"

The double entendre floated around in the air.

"Yes."

As soon as the bedroom door closes behind us: boom! We start going at it like a couple of animals on the discovery channel. I won't go into detail, but things uh....things got pretty sexual.

Fast forward a bit.....and play.

So there we were, mid wrestling match. I look over and see a red hat sitting on top of her dresser. I look up at her, her eyes closed and head back, then I look back over at the hat. There was some white writing on the front of it.

I squint my eyes so that I can read the small letters... "Make America Great Again."

Fuck. This angel is a damn Trump supporter.

I look back up at her. I study her perfect cheek bones. Her cute little nose. The euphoria in her face. Her breasts bouncing up and down.

How can such a beautiful creation....be a Trump supporter?

My moral phone begins to ring off the hook. Should I stop this match with one of my most beautiful opponents in recent history? Or should I ignore the call and continue the fight?

This is so tough. She is so freaking beautiful....but she supports Trump. After all, I am so strongly against Trump. I cannot stand what he stands for. He is somebody that is so evil and so destructive that it strikes fear into my bones... Should I really continue with somebody who supports a man like this?

I make my decision.

And the decision is......fuck morals. I decided to mute the phone and throw it out the damn window. See you later phone! I have a match to finish up.

In case you wondering, I did come in first in the wresting match. But don't worry, she ended up coming in second, third, and forth... if you know what I mean!

Just kidding, I'm the only one who placed....that's what she gets for supporting Trump.