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My courtship with Trump.com

What you are missing if you are not on the president’s email list

In early June, I received a message from Donald J. Trump. How curious!

I have never asked to receive any messages from Donald J. Trump. I’m as free of potential algorithmic suggestions that I might want to receive his attentions as they get, I would have thought. Not on twitter, either. But, you know … Russians?

I think I might have opened it. I was not impressed with its html. I deleted it.

Shortly thereafter, I heard from him again. He wanted to meet up.

Almost immediately thereafter, I got an invitation. From his .com.

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NOW I was impressed! The dude had a full-on publisher’s sweepstakes up and running! And I could play for ANY AMOUNT!

I considered throwing him .76 cents. But I couldn’t find my credit card.
Maybe if I played tomorrow, I would still have a chance?

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He didn’t see my name. So I reckon he asked about me.

That was on June 8th. After that, I received, on average, three emails a day. Because I guess Donald just kept asking after me. I decided to play hard to get. Sure enough, the next week, I got VIP access. FOR FREE!

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Pretty soon, he was showering me with gifts and opportunities.
All of which I turned down. THAT got his attention:

yes. the 100 club.

On June 12th, he got some other people to woo me. A regular Cyrano, he is. Except he wasn’t Cyrano — he was the other guy. The one who didn’t have a way with words. Anyway, he told Eric to reach out. And then Lara.

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There might have been, yes

I didn’t actually know who Lara was, but her message,which I opened, seemed creepy, in a Ghislain Maxwell way:

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At this point, I decided to put the emails in a special folder. In case I needed evidence. I let Lara know that there had, indeed, been a mistake. I responded that I thought Donald was coming on too strong. He apologized:

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But let’s face it — he’s incorrigible. One day only, my ass.

Check out June 16–18. I was struck by the mix of intimacy and amnesia.

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I couldn’t help myself and I opened the one with the secret.
It seemed sort of like a ransom note:

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I don’t know why, but I just went full David Lynch on him.
I wrote back: MAYBE I ALREADY AM….

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Eric doesn’t know me at all.

For the next several days, it was like nothing weird had happened.
It was all attachments, fundraising, Don Jr. catching up on his admin….

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auto-tune that shit

I really didn’t have time for his urgency.
You remember mid-June? There was more important stuff going on.
Sometimes he alluded to the news.

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But more often he wanted to talk about stuff that was decidedly NOT news.

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Fake news.
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Um. She totally did.
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Admittedly, I was curious about those flowers for Barry. I still don’t know what they signify. I don’t think of Donald as putting much stake in symbolism. But what the message seemed to indicate was that he was feeling like the other guy is getting more ass than he is.

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So instead of an invitation, he just straight up sent a ticket:

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(it wasn’t, actually)
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ew.

Ok, look. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I seem to be under the delusion that these emails were actually meant FOR MY EYES ONLY and that I really did stand on the threshold of VIP and PATRIOT status.

Nah. I know how it works. I wrote personalized emails for a living once!

But I thought that those of you who have not had the mixed pleasure of seeing the Donald in digital fundraising mode might be reassured by the pre-school quality of his overtures.

(Though even as I write that, I think how on earth could that be reassuring?)

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wake me when its November
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Don Jr. did the math for us

And for those of you who have, in fact, donated — say $5 on the 600% match day — I thought you should know how very non-exclusively the president is behaving in choosing his special status pals.

Cuz he and I started this thing more than a month ago and I recently told him I was kind of into Sleepy Joe … and he is still hitting on me.

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not your bae-se, Donald.

Written by

Work in progress. dancerdaughter.com

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